Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Time And Time Again ❯ Memory of the Waters ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
A messenger approaches.
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.26.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 296 | Status: Completed
A messenger approaches.
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.26.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 296 | Status: Completed
AU, OOC, violence...supernatural themes, violence...slash, gore
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS!
This is based off Silent Hill, of which I do not own but worship. ^_^ Chapter titles are borrowed from the titles of SH2 and SH3 soundtracks...both of which I RECOMMEND if you’re into that sort of music, and both of which I do not OWN in any way.
Chapter Two:
Memory Of The Waters
“Hi, Virgil.”
“Hey, Rich.”
It was no longer unusual to see the black teen flying, held aloft by a sheet of metal. Richie had known Virgil Hawkins long enough to accept that his gift over electricity was natural, just as his ability over intelligence. He looked up from tinkering with an iPod to see Virgil adjusting the blue Nike jacket he was wearing as he slid the worn cellphone back into his bag.
Virgil was handsome enough with his smooth skin, his dreads, and the easy way he wore his clothes. He wore the blue jacket over a white shirt, dark cargo pants and what looked to be Alonso Mourning shoes with neon blue piping. His one strap backpack was slung low on his back, bulging with whatever treasures he chose to carry around with him. He was also wearing another backpack.
The black teen had found him sitting on the balcony of the penthouse, fiddling with various projects he had in his messenger bag. Richie was cold, bundled up in a green and white striped scarf tucked into his hooded sweater. He was wearing a dirty brown vest with that, along with a pair of loose fitting carpenter jeans and worn boots. His messenger bag was always slung over his body, tucked on the chair he sat on. His blond hair was askew and messy with his goggle resting, as it always did, on his forehead. Virgil had helped him pierce his ears years earlier, the silver hoops barely visible over the scarf.
Virgil scanned the morning’s revealing of Dakota–the sun was hidden behind dark storm clouds, and a sharp wind was blowing. His dreads blew across his face, and he reached up to hold them back with annoyance. The cackle of his energy was sharp in the stillness of the city. He leapt from the disk he was perched on, catching it as he killed the charge. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the bag full of canned goods from his back. Both of them walked back into the penthouse.
Richie took it, Backpack examining Virgil with its mechanical eye, inquiring questions only Richie could interpret as the black teen scoffed at the condition of the penthouse.
“Shut up, Backpack.”
“Moving again?” Virgil asked. “Somebody take over your home again?”
“A couple of guys. I dunno.”
Backpack abandoned its inquiring, focusing on the canned goods Richie was dumping from the bag. Once he saw the wrapped candy, he gave a cheerful chirp. Virgil sat at the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He looked over as Backpack continued to eye him suspiciously, scuttling to a defensive crouch in front of its owner. Smirking, Virgil lifted a hand, emitting a couple of sharp blasts at Richie’s head.
The blond teen immediately fell into a protective ball, Backpack reacting quickly; it shot up to match the height of the incoming blasts, taking the two hits with obvious strain. Metal protested, but it held as Backpack released a laser gun from its back, firing back at Virgil with the captured energy. Virgil laughed in delight, absorbing the recycled energy with ease, hands up in surrender.
“Cut it out, Virgil!” Richie snapped at him, straightening from the floor. He flung the half-eaten candy at the teen, catching him upside the head.
“Ow. Just testing the thing.” Virgil rubbed his head, then watched as Backpack continued its diligent defense, swaying with his every movement. Keeping itself between its owner and him. “I give, I give. I was just playing. Call it off, man.”
“No. Its doing its job.”
“I was just kidding! C’mon!”
“No.”
Virgil sighed, keeping hands in view as he once again sat down. He eyed Backpack as it continued to eye him, motionless with his stilled movements. Richie continued looking through the canned goods, frowning as he eyed one expiration date.
“I spent the night at the arcade,” Virgil said with another sigh, flopping backward on the bed. He heard Backpack scuttle to accompany this movement. “I’ve beaten every game there is. I’m so sick and tired of playing all the same games. I’m so sick and tired of doing nothing. That’s all I do, lately! Sleep, look for food, look for water, look for survivors–play with survivors, play games, scour everything for new clothes...it’s gettin’ old, man. Soon, I’m going to be so bored that I won’t know what to do with myself!”
Richie tuned him out, rummaging through his own messenger bag for the can opener he had. Once finding it, he opened the can to get at the fruit inside. He then paused as a thought came to him. Dumping the food out onto the carpet, he eyed the empty can with contemplation.
“Don’t you get bored, sometimes? I mean, it’s BORING! There ain’t nothin’ to do,” Virgil said. “I’m not so scared of the things we get around here. I can beat them all. They all fall down to my powers, so it’s like–lost motive. Easy level. It fuckin’ sucks. Plus, all them people that wanted at me got all intimidated and don’t chase after me, anymore.”
Virgil had tried to save the city–his powers had come in handy. But he, too, was overwhelmed by the bitter and backlashing response the surviving public handed to him. He was fully expected to be God at that moment, and while he’d tried hard to be what they’d wanted–he’d given up. He, along with Richie, had been only thirteen at the time.
Lifting his head, Virgil studied the waterstained ceiling, hearing Backpack questioning Richie. Well, he wasn’t sure if the thing was questioning, as all his sounds seemed the same to him, but the irritated blond gave a snappish negative. He sat up, a frown on his face. Seeing that food had been dumped out onto the carpet, he heaved a heavy growl. He plopped down onto the floor, digging up the fruit and shoving it into his mouth. He eyed Backpack with suspicion, the lone eye staring right back at him.
“I hate your thingy,” he said with his mouth stuffed. “It’s so annoying.”
Richie had long tuned him out, and didn’t reply as he began digging things out of his messenger bag. Once pulling out a set of wires and a cellphone, he smiled happily and sat down to work. Virgil frowned at him, watching him take the can apart. He plucked off the remaining fruit from the floor, then crossed his legs sluggishly to pick at his nails. Silence was heavy as Richie focused on his project and Backpack kept its vigilant watch on Virgil.
Virgil shifted to stare out the window, resting his elbows on the window sill. He overlooked all the desolation to stare at the clouds. It had been three years since he’d met Richie at the ranch. The other teen had been just as angry as he; bullied, overweight, and a total introvert. Richie had lashed out at his pushy parents by disappearing for days; hacking into accounts and stealing money to provide for his habit of invention. He would spend long hours arguing with anybody that dared speak to him, making him into a nuisance that pushed people away. He would skip school, bored by the learning process; feeding his yearning for acceptance and understanding with food.
It had taken awhile, but Virgil had eventually earned the other’s trust. The pair had been sticking close together ever since. Well...as much as they could. Virgil preferred exploring the area and doing his own thing; Richie was the same way, only he preferred to be grounded and left alone to fiddle with whatever invention he had on his mind. Being teenage boys, there were always conflicts that popped up between them from time to time–some of which ended in blows and mean insults that kept one away from the other for days. Stress on their young lives, difference in ideas, and factors of survival also made it hard to stick together and compromise for a common cause.
Virgil wondered if there were others out there, like them, that were wondering what to do with their lives. Living by the edge–fighting off other survivors and creatures. He startled at the sound of gunfire erupting in the distance–Backpack was scuttling over him and the window sill to post itself on the side of the building, scanning frantically.
He looked back at Richie, who had that goggle over his eyes–staring off at something Virgil couldn’t see.
“Some people fighting off Ghouls,” the blond muttered, shifting the goggle off his face and returning his attention to the invention he had in hand.
Virgil looked away, relaxing. Gunfire continued, and he wondered if he should intervene. Help them.
It was then that he recalled his father’s vigilant attitude toward helping others. Robert had been working in a community center for youths when Virgil was sent away. He wondered if his father had somehow died fighting to help others. It somehow eased some of that pain by thinking that way.
Gunfire died, replaced by faint screams. It always bothered him when he heard the obviousness of a losing battle; those anguished screams, screams of torture and fright. Screams of triumph and sick satisfaction over blood and gore.
He shuddered, leaning his forehead against his forearm. The demonic creatures would only stop their assault when human bodies lay splattered messily–it was never a clean death.
He turned, sitting with his back against the wall to watch Richie tinker with whatever it was he was playing with. It took him awhile, but he started to think that the blond was making some sort of bomb–
Richie set his tools down, testing the weight of the former can. Then he tossed it to Virgil when he saw that the teen was ready. Virgil caught the can, his hand glowing purple as he charged the object with his powers. He then tossed it back to Richie, who added a few adjustments and looked at the finished product with an approving expression.
Virgil never understood half of Richie’s inventions, but he had a gist of what they were from time to time. Backpack was, understandably, one of his greatest.
He watched it scuttle toward its owner, crawling up the back of his legs to settle on his back–like a huge metal bug. It gave Virgil the shivers as he stood, dusting off his pants.
“I’m going to the fire station on Fourth and Glen,” Richie said, adjusting his messenger bag. “There were people hauling things in there the other day.”
“Food?” Virgil asked, hope alighting in him.
“I don’t know. Want to check it out? Plus, I have a few traps here and there that I want to check.”
Virgil shifted his backpack from his back, looking in the front pockets. He withdrew bottles of spices and nodded, putting them back. “Let’s check out the fire station, first.”
* - * - * - * - *
The pair of them kept close to the shadows, keeping an eye out for both creatures and man. The fire station was just another desolate structure in Dakota; the windows were boarded over, the front door covered in barbwire and broken glass. All the other doors were boarded shut. Virgil glanced around while Richie headed toward the back entrance, Backpack chirping noisily from his back.
“There’s no one around,” Richie called out to Virgil, finding the back door. Despite its appearance of being chained shut, he found the opening latch, pulling it back with a grunt and then kicking off from the doorframe. The door opened with slight resistance, Virgil hurrying over to help him. Both of them peered into the darkness of the fire station, noting that the hallways were free of dust. There was obvious use in the area, both of them walking in and pulling the door shut.
The darkness was strong until Backpack shifted, releasing a spot-light from its dome walls. The retractable arm settled over Richie’s shoulder for support.
“Don’t use them here, V,” Richie warned Virgil of his powers. Virgil nodded, sticking to his side as they made their way from the hall and headed into an office area. Virgil was little surprised that things were so neat and clean; he was used to the lack of use, the abandonment.
Various hand drawn maps of the city hung on the walls, rolled up tight on cleared tables. But the pair weren’t interested in all of that. If they had investigated, they would have found photos of Virgil sitting amidst plans other survivors had made up for his use.
They found the main Engine room, bypassing all the containers of weaponry, clothes and shoes to find a large box of canned goods; most of which were preserved meats and fruits in glass jars. Both of them hurriedly began gathering armfuls of the most freshest foods, wanting to take what they could before anyone could show up. Virgil found a heavily dusted fireman’s pack, dumping out the contents within to push his canned foods into the depths. Richie added his share, and the pair continued to fill up the pack until it was full.
Virgil found another pack, and they filled that up as well. Once satisfied, the pair grabbed their stolen goods, leaving the fire station amidst caution and glee. Both of them made their way among the shadows once more, keeping an eye out for anybody around them.
“This is great, Rich!” Virgil about squealed, digging into one pack for a jar. He paused in mid-step to open the lid, the fresh scent of meat hitting the both of them. He dug some out with his fingers, holding the jar out to Richie. Both of them began shoving the food into their mouths, chewing with appreciative sighs and murmured praises. “Tastes like venison.”
“I haven’t had deer in so long. I was getting sick of dogs and rats.”
“When you’re hungry, you’re hungry. Man...I thought these were all hunted out,” Virgil said with a pleasured sigh, shoving more into his mouth. “These people must have gone far to hunt.”
“They come into the city near the Hills. They probably trapped them there.”
When an enraged shout caught their ears, both stuffed what they could into their mouths, looking back to see a group of men running at them. Their furious faces and obvious intent made both teens gasp.
Startled, Virgil dropped the jar, both of them making a run for it. Their packs were too heavy for them to run properly, their actions clumsy as they maneuvered their way through long lines of abandoned cars. The men were armed and angry, closing in on them quickly.
Just as Virgil was going to suggest flying, Richie pulled out the can that he’d worked on earlier, tossing it on the pavement between them and the men. A loud bang! exploded throughout the area, ringing off the silent buildings. The flash emitted lit up the entire area, casting black shadows that seemed more ominous than they were before. The group stalled, crying out in surprise.
Both teens sniggered, rounding the end of the block. From there, Virgil retrieved a car hood from one of the long lines of cars. It was easier to fly than it was to run.
* - * - * - * - *
Virgil flipped the light switch on, the basement lighting immediately. Richie pulled his heavy pack from his back, Backpack immediately posting itself near the basement window to watch for intruders. Both teens pulled out cans of canned meat from their respective packs, eating in silence. The basement was one of their hideouts; outfitted with a cot, some random treasures, tv, DVD player and DVD’s, and a few game consoles that had escaped burglary of their parts. A stereo system took up one wall, and Virgil eyed his friend suspiciously as he realized parts were missing from the tape deck. Richie sent him a challenging look in response, the pair tensing for a few moments.
“I’ll let you live for today,” Virgil decided.
Richie rolled his eyes, snorting.
“I was thinking of going into Metropolis,” Virgil said, grinning as he wiped his hands on the floor. Then, frowning at the dust he collected, he searched the room for something to wipe on. “Just to get out of here, for awhile.”
“Still looking for those superheroes of yours? I’m telling you–they skipped out before the invasion happened,” Richie muttered. “All of them did.”
“I stand by my theory, man. That Madelyn created a whole different dimension–separating the bad from the good. Those guys were sooo good, man, that they got to stay in a different part of a universe along with all the other good people. They got Heaven–we got Purgatory. Y’know, cuz of our crimes and such? Our dimension has a different theory of time compared to the other–while three years have passed since then, only an hour has passed in their time. They’ll get to us,” Virgil concluded.
Richie stared at him in silence for a few moments. His face then twisted with pity. “...Your theory is so unfounded, and so utterly pathetic.”
“Then explain why there aren’t very many people! Even after the invasion, there weren’t many people! It was as if their bodies disappeared into thin air!”
“That’s because there are really scary monsters out there that can swallow a human body without pause or chew, Virgil. They were EATEN by MONSTERS. And the Watchtower had come down with all the rest of the equipment in space! Madelyn defeated them all!”
“I’m telling you, with all the attitude of people ‘round here, it’s obvious we’re all the bad guys the planet had. We’re in Purgatory, rotting for our sins! If there were good people out here, the world would have been in the process of being saved. Madelyn may have beaten them for a bit, coming on all strong, but they’re out there in the RIGHT dimension, battling it out for the rest of us. And you don’t know that about the Watchtower. That’s just a fuckin’ rumor,” Virgil argued in disgust. “They’re still out there. They’re just working on getting a fix on her. Fighting superpowered demon entities ain’t exactly a cupcake job, Rich.”
“They’re DEAD, Virgil. And who knows if Madelyn is a demon entity! She could just be a super-powered mutant like us and have cast spells of illusion or insanity...or something.” Richie frowned. “And there’s no such thing as Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory! Science has disproved the very facts of religion.”
“...Don’t even start on that. And, no, they ain’t dead! Not Green Lantern! Not Superman! Not Batman! They wouldn’t just up and die–! They’re out there, and even if it’s NOT the alternate universe that I’ve been thinking, but maybe Madelyn created some sorta wormhole and blasted them away...from...here...”
Richie tuned him out, basing Virgil’s arguments upon fantastic denial, leaving his spot to pull out a milk crate of laptaps from behind the cot. Virgil grit his teeth, casting a cautious glance at Backpack. Seeing that it was occupied, Virgil shocked Richie with enough power to make the teen cry out in pain.
“Stop ignoring me!” Virgil snapped, rising to his feet as Backpack whirled, emitting a pained screech. Virgil paused, noting the device’s vibrating, the way tools and weaponry shot out from their various areas on its body. He blinked in confusion, giving Richie enough time to grab one of the laptops and whack Virgil across the head with it. The impact was enough to send the teen down to the floor. Pain immediately spread throughout his skull, fury arising just as quickly.
“Stop using your powers on me! That fucking hurts!”
Virgil cursed, rubbing the back of his head as he shot his friend a murderous look. Instantly charging all metal objects in the room, he climbed to his feet–then began throwing all of which he’d charged at the blond. Richie ducked and dodged, shoving his goggle over his eyes. Backpack recovered from the shock trauma it had endured, facing Virgil. Instantly, several ‘fingers’ shot out from its hull, rebar-like appendages that seemed to have unlimited length. Two of them wrapped around Virgil’s legs, and four others batted the most dangerous objects out of the air before they hit its owner. Two other fingers slammed into the back of his knees, knocking him to the floor once more. Once finished in the air, the four fingers immediately shot at Virgil, intending to enclose him within their hold.
Virgil turned his anger on the robot, aiming to overload the invention when Richie jumped on his back, yanking his dreads hard. Both of them tumbled to the floor, Backpack scuttling over, main limbs stretching out to catch onto Virgil’s wrists. Both teens were punching and cursing each other, Backpack briefly losing contact with its owner. It retracted all fingers and arms, scuttling quickly, looking for both a command and an opportunity.
Virgil managed to pin Richie to the floor, shocking him just enough to having him cry out in pain once more, body seizing. He rolled off of him, looking up to seeing Backpack shake in almost comic-fashion, tools once more shooting out from its body in useless manner. All arms shot out, revealing main limbs, packing straps, the rebar fingers and smaller arms that were made for more delicate handling. He thought that it was so freaky how, if he zapped the owner, the robot was affected as well.
Panting, Virgil rested on the floor, listening to the other pant in broken fashion next to him. He reached up to rub the back of his head, feeling the knot that was starting to form there. Angrily, he shoved himself up to his feet, brushing off his clothes. The moment he did, though, Backpack’s multiple rebar arms shot forth, wrapping around his limbs. He gave a startled gasp, Backpack scuttling for a better position as it slammed Virgil against the wall, rebar shifting to anchor him into the wall.
He growled in frustration as Richie climbed painfully to his feet, moving stiffly as he shot Virgil a furious look. He crouched next to his messenger bag as Virgil glared at his invention, Backpack’s lone eye lifting to glare at him.
Virgil activated his powers, watching the invention fry, anger getting the best of him. Then, when movement caught his eye, he looked up to see Richie toss the contents of his water bottle at him. He couldn’t stop the charge in time, water giving him immediate effect. He cried out as he shorted out, pain seizing his entire body, Backpack managing to release him.
He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, feeling the aftereffects of his powers sizzle throughout his limbs, making muscles weak. He was aware Richie was moving around, Backpack gathered protectively from his view. He managed to lift his head, seeing Richie grab one of the full ‘packs of food and his own belongings. He tried to utter a few words, but his throat closed up, and he ended up just watching Richie stalk out of the basement.
Cursing in winded fashion, Virgil glared at the dirty floor and wondered how long they were going to ignore each other this time.
* - * - * - * - *
“This...really isn’t very many...”
The man in black eyed his colleagues, all of whom looked grim and weary. It had taken a long while for them to modify many of their weapons into plastic pieces rather than the metal that many were used to. Their clothing was fashioned out of rubber.
Many of them were former professionals–former soldiers, SWAT and bounty hunters. All that knew what they were doing and how to go about it. The men and women he’d hired for the other teen had been those that were eager for a job. While both teens were valuable, the one they were hunting for had significantly more power and more potential for being trouble than the other.
“This is all we got, man. Take it or leave it,” one muttered, glaring at his plastic weapon. He cast a sneer upon the others. “This kid probably ain’t all that valuable, anyway. What’s one kid?”
The man in black sighed, looking at his own group of men. The four looked at each other with long cast annoyance. “There is a reason why I specifically requested that you manufacture plastic weaponry. That you wear rubber. There is a specific reason why we want this kid.”
The other man exchanged a look with his crew of six, clearly skeptic. He loaded his weapon with tranquilizers. With a heavy sigh, he tossed his weapon strap over his shoulder, cradling his weapon carefully. “Let’s go. I’m curious in seeing what sort of super-kid we’re risking our lives for.”
* - * - * - * - *
Virgil glared at the pool, muttering to himself. Night was falling fast, and while he didn’t particularly like staying out after dark, he felt guilty for instigating the fight earlier.
The community pool on the west end of Dakota was his favorite hiding place; no matter the fact that water was a large no-no for him, Virgil had found that creatures and humans rarely bothered with the building. The showers still worked, and there were plenty of hiding places around if he needed to find one in a pinch. Even Richie, who knew him as well as he knew himself, hadn’t thought of locating him here. It was just given that electricity and water shouldn’t mix; so why should Virgil hang around a large body of water?
His muscles were still tingling from when his powers had shorted out. He thought that it was awfully sneaky of Richie to hit dirty; but then again, Virgil had hit just as dirty. Both of them had come to blows and fighting words plenty of times before; he wasn’t worried about losing his friendship over yet another fight.
He heaved a sigh that echoed throughout the empty building. Water rippled under foot. Long shadows began to darken the area, wind whistling against the thick walls. He stared down at all the abandoned items in the pool, trying to name off every one when he realized that the water was darkening. He stilled, watching as all the items in the pool began to disappear behind a cover of black.
Startled, Virgil rose from the edge and backed away, unsure of what was happening. Water rippled, as if something was hidden underneath. Water splashed against the edges, spotting the concrete with dark color. Virgil was frozen in place as the water shifted into one rolling lump–he eyed the exit nearby, wondering if he should make a dash for it when the lump began to rise up from the pool. He stared at it in awestruck wonder, listening to the slight splashing noises the water made as it dripped from the shape forming in front of him. He began to realize that it was taking on the body of a human.
The building seemed to immediately drop several temperatures, Virgil taking immediate notice of it as his breath became visible. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the womanly figure in front of him, brown water shifting into pure black as the woman shifted from a fetal position into a slow standing pose.
Virgil hadn’t seen anything like it: her hair danced in currents, streaming from the top of her skull down into the remaining waters of the pool. Her arms briefly separated from her body, pulling up into a gesturing motion to catch his attention. Nothing was clear–just a womanly form, her facial features hidden behind the currents of movement.
The water dripping from her form rang out loudly within the silence of the building. He still wasn’t sure whether to move. The oddly constructed form in front of him had his full attention, his wonder. Blackened water shimmered as she moved, every movement languid and graceful, hair streaming over her face; brushed behind her ears with indistinct fingers.
“Virgil,” came the murmur, the feminine tone distinct and clear. Its voice echoed throughout the building, dancing off the walls with a musical feeling that sent goosepimples up and down his arms. He stilled once more, eyes widening at the sound of his name. He couldn’t move; frantic thoughts raced through his mind, conjuring up images of his mother.
He had thought he’d forgotten the sound of his mother’s voice; but this woman...this thing...sounded so eerily close to Jean’s. His mouth fell open slightly, water dripping on concrete as the woman shifted once more, becoming a lump of indistinct movement before dropping back into the pool with a loud crash of sound. He yelped, trying to avoid the water that splashed over the edge, coating his shoes. He pressed himself against the wall, scooting away from the water, eyes never leaving the pool.
Silence once again reigned in the pool building, water shimmering on the walls as it caught faint light from the outside. Virgil was aware that his heart was thumping loudly against his chest as he frantically wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing. If that voice he’d heard was...something he made up.
He started to make excuses for himself, sure that it was all a result of stress and lack of sleep. Or perhaps he was sick in the head. Something to explain what had just happened.
“Virgil.”
The voice once again rang out, distinct and clear, echoing off the walls of the building. He jumped in startled surprise, pressing himself against the wall to avoid any sort of attack. The pool shifted once more, the form suddenly clinging to the edge of the pool and hauling itself out. Virgil froze, gaping at the blackened form, water spreading wherever it stepped. Its facial features were growing more clear as it neared him.
He held out his hand, intending to activate his power, working on reflex when he remembered what element he was dealing with. The form drew near him, smelling of rank water.
“Virgil,” she repeated, her mouth a blackened shape on her face, eyes blinking clear as she blinked. He could see clear through her eyes, spying the back wall. He froze, unsure of how to take this as she brought with her immense cold and moisture. His clothes grew damp with her closeness, sticking to his skin and making him shiver. “My name is Maria, Virgil. I’ve been waiting to speak with you.”
Virgil had no idea how to interpret this. He stared at the water-woman in silence, grimacing at the freezing quality his clothes had taken on. Water in the pool splashed, catching his attention for a moment as she then said, “There are others like you, Virgil. Blessed with special gifts.”
Movements of water had her form pointed away from him, presenting him with her back as she languidly strolled along the edge of the pool. Everything about her glistened as she moved. “You’ve done this before, Virgil. But you probably do not remember it.”
Virgil swallowed tightly, frowning. The woman was crazed–or was it even a woman?
She was inverting into herself once more, facing him. In a smooth movement, her form poured back into the pool, water splashing over the edge and spreading over concrete. Virgil relaxed slightly, pulling at his damp clothing. He faced the pool with certain confusion, unsure of what was being said. Suddenly, he felt as if he were in some fantastic situation he could only seen in movies; in fantasy books.
The woman in the water was once more forming at the edge of the pool, her arms hanging onto the edge as she faced him. Virgil noticed that the temperature was rising–that the black in the pool was once more turning dingy brown. Ripples formed only at her movements. He watched in silence as she placed a lone object before her, stretching her arm out to do so. The sound of the brass key hitting the concrete rang loudly in the quiet stillness.
He stared at the key with a puzzled frown, noting that there was plastic hanging from it. The woman smiled, slowly starting to sink back into the pool. Virgil was bewildered, unsure of what he was supposed to do. What he was supposed to interpret.
“Wait–!” he cried, moving forward. But she was sinking into the pool, black disappearing into brown. Soon, the pool was still, and the building was silent once more. He stared into the darkness, the key near the tip of his shoe. The concrete was still wet where she’d splashed about; he could still hear her voice in his mind.
He crouched, retrieving the key with a puzzled expression. The plastic keyring read, “Motel Six”, listing its street address. A number was imprinted upon it in permanent marker. He frowned, looking back at the pool once more, rising to stand. He didn’t get what was being said of him. He didn’t get the situation at all.
Quickly, he jerked his backpack off, running toward the locker area. He shoved the key into his jacket pocket, rummaging with light curses through every available pocket until he came to a worn cellphone. It operated in one number operation; pressing any key insured him direct communication to Richie. It was also a tracking device for his friend; which was how he’d found him earlier that day. It was security on both their parts.
“Rich!” he yelled into the phone, then lowered his voice with a wince. He heard a loud creaking noise coming from the pool area. He quickly reshouldered his bag, running out of the locker area and into the main lobby. From there, he hurried out through the doors, taking on the incoming night with an expression of worry. “Rich, come in, it’s important! For reals!”
He struggled to pull his folding disk from the back of his bag–once free, he tossed it before him. Flying off into the night, he ran into creeping fog, making him slow his progress and descend sharply. He narrowly missed several street lamps as he hissed into the cellphone for Richie once more. Thinking of Maria, he gave up on trying to talk to Richie and went to track him instead.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS!
This is based off Silent Hill, of which I do not own but worship. ^_^ Chapter titles are borrowed from the titles of SH2 and SH3 soundtracks...both of which I RECOMMEND if you’re into that sort of music, and both of which I do not OWN in any way.
Chapter Two:
Memory Of The Waters
“Hi, Virgil.”
“Hey, Rich.”
It was no longer unusual to see the black teen flying, held aloft by a sheet of metal. Richie had known Virgil Hawkins long enough to accept that his gift over electricity was natural, just as his ability over intelligence. He looked up from tinkering with an iPod to see Virgil adjusting the blue Nike jacket he was wearing as he slid the worn cellphone back into his bag.
Virgil was handsome enough with his smooth skin, his dreads, and the easy way he wore his clothes. He wore the blue jacket over a white shirt, dark cargo pants and what looked to be Alonso Mourning shoes with neon blue piping. His one strap backpack was slung low on his back, bulging with whatever treasures he chose to carry around with him. He was also wearing another backpack.
The black teen had found him sitting on the balcony of the penthouse, fiddling with various projects he had in his messenger bag. Richie was cold, bundled up in a green and white striped scarf tucked into his hooded sweater. He was wearing a dirty brown vest with that, along with a pair of loose fitting carpenter jeans and worn boots. His messenger bag was always slung over his body, tucked on the chair he sat on. His blond hair was askew and messy with his goggle resting, as it always did, on his forehead. Virgil had helped him pierce his ears years earlier, the silver hoops barely visible over the scarf.
Virgil scanned the morning’s revealing of Dakota–the sun was hidden behind dark storm clouds, and a sharp wind was blowing. His dreads blew across his face, and he reached up to hold them back with annoyance. The cackle of his energy was sharp in the stillness of the city. He leapt from the disk he was perched on, catching it as he killed the charge. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the bag full of canned goods from his back. Both of them walked back into the penthouse.
Richie took it, Backpack examining Virgil with its mechanical eye, inquiring questions only Richie could interpret as the black teen scoffed at the condition of the penthouse.
“Shut up, Backpack.”
“Moving again?” Virgil asked. “Somebody take over your home again?”
“A couple of guys. I dunno.”
Backpack abandoned its inquiring, focusing on the canned goods Richie was dumping from the bag. Once he saw the wrapped candy, he gave a cheerful chirp. Virgil sat at the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He looked over as Backpack continued to eye him suspiciously, scuttling to a defensive crouch in front of its owner. Smirking, Virgil lifted a hand, emitting a couple of sharp blasts at Richie’s head.
The blond teen immediately fell into a protective ball, Backpack reacting quickly; it shot up to match the height of the incoming blasts, taking the two hits with obvious strain. Metal protested, but it held as Backpack released a laser gun from its back, firing back at Virgil with the captured energy. Virgil laughed in delight, absorbing the recycled energy with ease, hands up in surrender.
“Cut it out, Virgil!” Richie snapped at him, straightening from the floor. He flung the half-eaten candy at the teen, catching him upside the head.
“Ow. Just testing the thing.” Virgil rubbed his head, then watched as Backpack continued its diligent defense, swaying with his every movement. Keeping itself between its owner and him. “I give, I give. I was just playing. Call it off, man.”
“No. Its doing its job.”
“I was just kidding! C’mon!”
“No.”
Virgil sighed, keeping hands in view as he once again sat down. He eyed Backpack as it continued to eye him, motionless with his stilled movements. Richie continued looking through the canned goods, frowning as he eyed one expiration date.
“I spent the night at the arcade,” Virgil said with another sigh, flopping backward on the bed. He heard Backpack scuttle to accompany this movement. “I’ve beaten every game there is. I’m so sick and tired of playing all the same games. I’m so sick and tired of doing nothing. That’s all I do, lately! Sleep, look for food, look for water, look for survivors–play with survivors, play games, scour everything for new clothes...it’s gettin’ old, man. Soon, I’m going to be so bored that I won’t know what to do with myself!”
Richie tuned him out, rummaging through his own messenger bag for the can opener he had. Once finding it, he opened the can to get at the fruit inside. He then paused as a thought came to him. Dumping the food out onto the carpet, he eyed the empty can with contemplation.
“Don’t you get bored, sometimes? I mean, it’s BORING! There ain’t nothin’ to do,” Virgil said. “I’m not so scared of the things we get around here. I can beat them all. They all fall down to my powers, so it’s like–lost motive. Easy level. It fuckin’ sucks. Plus, all them people that wanted at me got all intimidated and don’t chase after me, anymore.”
Virgil had tried to save the city–his powers had come in handy. But he, too, was overwhelmed by the bitter and backlashing response the surviving public handed to him. He was fully expected to be God at that moment, and while he’d tried hard to be what they’d wanted–he’d given up. He, along with Richie, had been only thirteen at the time.
Lifting his head, Virgil studied the waterstained ceiling, hearing Backpack questioning Richie. Well, he wasn’t sure if the thing was questioning, as all his sounds seemed the same to him, but the irritated blond gave a snappish negative. He sat up, a frown on his face. Seeing that food had been dumped out onto the carpet, he heaved a heavy growl. He plopped down onto the floor, digging up the fruit and shoving it into his mouth. He eyed Backpack with suspicion, the lone eye staring right back at him.
“I hate your thingy,” he said with his mouth stuffed. “It’s so annoying.”
Richie had long tuned him out, and didn’t reply as he began digging things out of his messenger bag. Once pulling out a set of wires and a cellphone, he smiled happily and sat down to work. Virgil frowned at him, watching him take the can apart. He plucked off the remaining fruit from the floor, then crossed his legs sluggishly to pick at his nails. Silence was heavy as Richie focused on his project and Backpack kept its vigilant watch on Virgil.
Virgil shifted to stare out the window, resting his elbows on the window sill. He overlooked all the desolation to stare at the clouds. It had been three years since he’d met Richie at the ranch. The other teen had been just as angry as he; bullied, overweight, and a total introvert. Richie had lashed out at his pushy parents by disappearing for days; hacking into accounts and stealing money to provide for his habit of invention. He would spend long hours arguing with anybody that dared speak to him, making him into a nuisance that pushed people away. He would skip school, bored by the learning process; feeding his yearning for acceptance and understanding with food.
It had taken awhile, but Virgil had eventually earned the other’s trust. The pair had been sticking close together ever since. Well...as much as they could. Virgil preferred exploring the area and doing his own thing; Richie was the same way, only he preferred to be grounded and left alone to fiddle with whatever invention he had on his mind. Being teenage boys, there were always conflicts that popped up between them from time to time–some of which ended in blows and mean insults that kept one away from the other for days. Stress on their young lives, difference in ideas, and factors of survival also made it hard to stick together and compromise for a common cause.
Virgil wondered if there were others out there, like them, that were wondering what to do with their lives. Living by the edge–fighting off other survivors and creatures. He startled at the sound of gunfire erupting in the distance–Backpack was scuttling over him and the window sill to post itself on the side of the building, scanning frantically.
He looked back at Richie, who had that goggle over his eyes–staring off at something Virgil couldn’t see.
“Some people fighting off Ghouls,” the blond muttered, shifting the goggle off his face and returning his attention to the invention he had in hand.
Virgil looked away, relaxing. Gunfire continued, and he wondered if he should intervene. Help them.
It was then that he recalled his father’s vigilant attitude toward helping others. Robert had been working in a community center for youths when Virgil was sent away. He wondered if his father had somehow died fighting to help others. It somehow eased some of that pain by thinking that way.
Gunfire died, replaced by faint screams. It always bothered him when he heard the obviousness of a losing battle; those anguished screams, screams of torture and fright. Screams of triumph and sick satisfaction over blood and gore.
He shuddered, leaning his forehead against his forearm. The demonic creatures would only stop their assault when human bodies lay splattered messily–it was never a clean death.
He turned, sitting with his back against the wall to watch Richie tinker with whatever it was he was playing with. It took him awhile, but he started to think that the blond was making some sort of bomb–
Richie set his tools down, testing the weight of the former can. Then he tossed it to Virgil when he saw that the teen was ready. Virgil caught the can, his hand glowing purple as he charged the object with his powers. He then tossed it back to Richie, who added a few adjustments and looked at the finished product with an approving expression.
Virgil never understood half of Richie’s inventions, but he had a gist of what they were from time to time. Backpack was, understandably, one of his greatest.
He watched it scuttle toward its owner, crawling up the back of his legs to settle on his back–like a huge metal bug. It gave Virgil the shivers as he stood, dusting off his pants.
“I’m going to the fire station on Fourth and Glen,” Richie said, adjusting his messenger bag. “There were people hauling things in there the other day.”
“Food?” Virgil asked, hope alighting in him.
“I don’t know. Want to check it out? Plus, I have a few traps here and there that I want to check.”
Virgil shifted his backpack from his back, looking in the front pockets. He withdrew bottles of spices and nodded, putting them back. “Let’s check out the fire station, first.”
* - * - * - * - *
The pair of them kept close to the shadows, keeping an eye out for both creatures and man. The fire station was just another desolate structure in Dakota; the windows were boarded over, the front door covered in barbwire and broken glass. All the other doors were boarded shut. Virgil glanced around while Richie headed toward the back entrance, Backpack chirping noisily from his back.
“There’s no one around,” Richie called out to Virgil, finding the back door. Despite its appearance of being chained shut, he found the opening latch, pulling it back with a grunt and then kicking off from the doorframe. The door opened with slight resistance, Virgil hurrying over to help him. Both of them peered into the darkness of the fire station, noting that the hallways were free of dust. There was obvious use in the area, both of them walking in and pulling the door shut.
The darkness was strong until Backpack shifted, releasing a spot-light from its dome walls. The retractable arm settled over Richie’s shoulder for support.
“Don’t use them here, V,” Richie warned Virgil of his powers. Virgil nodded, sticking to his side as they made their way from the hall and headed into an office area. Virgil was little surprised that things were so neat and clean; he was used to the lack of use, the abandonment.
Various hand drawn maps of the city hung on the walls, rolled up tight on cleared tables. But the pair weren’t interested in all of that. If they had investigated, they would have found photos of Virgil sitting amidst plans other survivors had made up for his use.
They found the main Engine room, bypassing all the containers of weaponry, clothes and shoes to find a large box of canned goods; most of which were preserved meats and fruits in glass jars. Both of them hurriedly began gathering armfuls of the most freshest foods, wanting to take what they could before anyone could show up. Virgil found a heavily dusted fireman’s pack, dumping out the contents within to push his canned foods into the depths. Richie added his share, and the pair continued to fill up the pack until it was full.
Virgil found another pack, and they filled that up as well. Once satisfied, the pair grabbed their stolen goods, leaving the fire station amidst caution and glee. Both of them made their way among the shadows once more, keeping an eye out for anybody around them.
“This is great, Rich!” Virgil about squealed, digging into one pack for a jar. He paused in mid-step to open the lid, the fresh scent of meat hitting the both of them. He dug some out with his fingers, holding the jar out to Richie. Both of them began shoving the food into their mouths, chewing with appreciative sighs and murmured praises. “Tastes like venison.”
“I haven’t had deer in so long. I was getting sick of dogs and rats.”
“When you’re hungry, you’re hungry. Man...I thought these were all hunted out,” Virgil said with a pleasured sigh, shoving more into his mouth. “These people must have gone far to hunt.”
“They come into the city near the Hills. They probably trapped them there.”
When an enraged shout caught their ears, both stuffed what they could into their mouths, looking back to see a group of men running at them. Their furious faces and obvious intent made both teens gasp.
Startled, Virgil dropped the jar, both of them making a run for it. Their packs were too heavy for them to run properly, their actions clumsy as they maneuvered their way through long lines of abandoned cars. The men were armed and angry, closing in on them quickly.
Just as Virgil was going to suggest flying, Richie pulled out the can that he’d worked on earlier, tossing it on the pavement between them and the men. A loud bang! exploded throughout the area, ringing off the silent buildings. The flash emitted lit up the entire area, casting black shadows that seemed more ominous than they were before. The group stalled, crying out in surprise.
Both teens sniggered, rounding the end of the block. From there, Virgil retrieved a car hood from one of the long lines of cars. It was easier to fly than it was to run.
* - * - * - * - *
Virgil flipped the light switch on, the basement lighting immediately. Richie pulled his heavy pack from his back, Backpack immediately posting itself near the basement window to watch for intruders. Both teens pulled out cans of canned meat from their respective packs, eating in silence. The basement was one of their hideouts; outfitted with a cot, some random treasures, tv, DVD player and DVD’s, and a few game consoles that had escaped burglary of their parts. A stereo system took up one wall, and Virgil eyed his friend suspiciously as he realized parts were missing from the tape deck. Richie sent him a challenging look in response, the pair tensing for a few moments.
“I’ll let you live for today,” Virgil decided.
Richie rolled his eyes, snorting.
“I was thinking of going into Metropolis,” Virgil said, grinning as he wiped his hands on the floor. Then, frowning at the dust he collected, he searched the room for something to wipe on. “Just to get out of here, for awhile.”
“Still looking for those superheroes of yours? I’m telling you–they skipped out before the invasion happened,” Richie muttered. “All of them did.”
“I stand by my theory, man. That Madelyn created a whole different dimension–separating the bad from the good. Those guys were sooo good, man, that they got to stay in a different part of a universe along with all the other good people. They got Heaven–we got Purgatory. Y’know, cuz of our crimes and such? Our dimension has a different theory of time compared to the other–while three years have passed since then, only an hour has passed in their time. They’ll get to us,” Virgil concluded.
Richie stared at him in silence for a few moments. His face then twisted with pity. “...Your theory is so unfounded, and so utterly pathetic.”
“Then explain why there aren’t very many people! Even after the invasion, there weren’t many people! It was as if their bodies disappeared into thin air!”
“That’s because there are really scary monsters out there that can swallow a human body without pause or chew, Virgil. They were EATEN by MONSTERS. And the Watchtower had come down with all the rest of the equipment in space! Madelyn defeated them all!”
“I’m telling you, with all the attitude of people ‘round here, it’s obvious we’re all the bad guys the planet had. We’re in Purgatory, rotting for our sins! If there were good people out here, the world would have been in the process of being saved. Madelyn may have beaten them for a bit, coming on all strong, but they’re out there in the RIGHT dimension, battling it out for the rest of us. And you don’t know that about the Watchtower. That’s just a fuckin’ rumor,” Virgil argued in disgust. “They’re still out there. They’re just working on getting a fix on her. Fighting superpowered demon entities ain’t exactly a cupcake job, Rich.”
“They’re DEAD, Virgil. And who knows if Madelyn is a demon entity! She could just be a super-powered mutant like us and have cast spells of illusion or insanity...or something.” Richie frowned. “And there’s no such thing as Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory! Science has disproved the very facts of religion.”
“...Don’t even start on that. And, no, they ain’t dead! Not Green Lantern! Not Superman! Not Batman! They wouldn’t just up and die–! They’re out there, and even if it’s NOT the alternate universe that I’ve been thinking, but maybe Madelyn created some sorta wormhole and blasted them away...from...here...”
Richie tuned him out, basing Virgil’s arguments upon fantastic denial, leaving his spot to pull out a milk crate of laptaps from behind the cot. Virgil grit his teeth, casting a cautious glance at Backpack. Seeing that it was occupied, Virgil shocked Richie with enough power to make the teen cry out in pain.
“Stop ignoring me!” Virgil snapped, rising to his feet as Backpack whirled, emitting a pained screech. Virgil paused, noting the device’s vibrating, the way tools and weaponry shot out from their various areas on its body. He blinked in confusion, giving Richie enough time to grab one of the laptops and whack Virgil across the head with it. The impact was enough to send the teen down to the floor. Pain immediately spread throughout his skull, fury arising just as quickly.
“Stop using your powers on me! That fucking hurts!”
Virgil cursed, rubbing the back of his head as he shot his friend a murderous look. Instantly charging all metal objects in the room, he climbed to his feet–then began throwing all of which he’d charged at the blond. Richie ducked and dodged, shoving his goggle over his eyes. Backpack recovered from the shock trauma it had endured, facing Virgil. Instantly, several ‘fingers’ shot out from its hull, rebar-like appendages that seemed to have unlimited length. Two of them wrapped around Virgil’s legs, and four others batted the most dangerous objects out of the air before they hit its owner. Two other fingers slammed into the back of his knees, knocking him to the floor once more. Once finished in the air, the four fingers immediately shot at Virgil, intending to enclose him within their hold.
Virgil turned his anger on the robot, aiming to overload the invention when Richie jumped on his back, yanking his dreads hard. Both of them tumbled to the floor, Backpack scuttling over, main limbs stretching out to catch onto Virgil’s wrists. Both teens were punching and cursing each other, Backpack briefly losing contact with its owner. It retracted all fingers and arms, scuttling quickly, looking for both a command and an opportunity.
Virgil managed to pin Richie to the floor, shocking him just enough to having him cry out in pain once more, body seizing. He rolled off of him, looking up to seeing Backpack shake in almost comic-fashion, tools once more shooting out from its body in useless manner. All arms shot out, revealing main limbs, packing straps, the rebar fingers and smaller arms that were made for more delicate handling. He thought that it was so freaky how, if he zapped the owner, the robot was affected as well.
Panting, Virgil rested on the floor, listening to the other pant in broken fashion next to him. He reached up to rub the back of his head, feeling the knot that was starting to form there. Angrily, he shoved himself up to his feet, brushing off his clothes. The moment he did, though, Backpack’s multiple rebar arms shot forth, wrapping around his limbs. He gave a startled gasp, Backpack scuttling for a better position as it slammed Virgil against the wall, rebar shifting to anchor him into the wall.
He growled in frustration as Richie climbed painfully to his feet, moving stiffly as he shot Virgil a furious look. He crouched next to his messenger bag as Virgil glared at his invention, Backpack’s lone eye lifting to glare at him.
Virgil activated his powers, watching the invention fry, anger getting the best of him. Then, when movement caught his eye, he looked up to see Richie toss the contents of his water bottle at him. He couldn’t stop the charge in time, water giving him immediate effect. He cried out as he shorted out, pain seizing his entire body, Backpack managing to release him.
He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, feeling the aftereffects of his powers sizzle throughout his limbs, making muscles weak. He was aware Richie was moving around, Backpack gathered protectively from his view. He managed to lift his head, seeing Richie grab one of the full ‘packs of food and his own belongings. He tried to utter a few words, but his throat closed up, and he ended up just watching Richie stalk out of the basement.
Cursing in winded fashion, Virgil glared at the dirty floor and wondered how long they were going to ignore each other this time.
* - * - * - * - *
“This...really isn’t very many...”
The man in black eyed his colleagues, all of whom looked grim and weary. It had taken a long while for them to modify many of their weapons into plastic pieces rather than the metal that many were used to. Their clothing was fashioned out of rubber.
Many of them were former professionals–former soldiers, SWAT and bounty hunters. All that knew what they were doing and how to go about it. The men and women he’d hired for the other teen had been those that were eager for a job. While both teens were valuable, the one they were hunting for had significantly more power and more potential for being trouble than the other.
“This is all we got, man. Take it or leave it,” one muttered, glaring at his plastic weapon. He cast a sneer upon the others. “This kid probably ain’t all that valuable, anyway. What’s one kid?”
The man in black sighed, looking at his own group of men. The four looked at each other with long cast annoyance. “There is a reason why I specifically requested that you manufacture plastic weaponry. That you wear rubber. There is a specific reason why we want this kid.”
The other man exchanged a look with his crew of six, clearly skeptic. He loaded his weapon with tranquilizers. With a heavy sigh, he tossed his weapon strap over his shoulder, cradling his weapon carefully. “Let’s go. I’m curious in seeing what sort of super-kid we’re risking our lives for.”
* - * - * - * - *
Virgil glared at the pool, muttering to himself. Night was falling fast, and while he didn’t particularly like staying out after dark, he felt guilty for instigating the fight earlier.
The community pool on the west end of Dakota was his favorite hiding place; no matter the fact that water was a large no-no for him, Virgil had found that creatures and humans rarely bothered with the building. The showers still worked, and there were plenty of hiding places around if he needed to find one in a pinch. Even Richie, who knew him as well as he knew himself, hadn’t thought of locating him here. It was just given that electricity and water shouldn’t mix; so why should Virgil hang around a large body of water?
His muscles were still tingling from when his powers had shorted out. He thought that it was awfully sneaky of Richie to hit dirty; but then again, Virgil had hit just as dirty. Both of them had come to blows and fighting words plenty of times before; he wasn’t worried about losing his friendship over yet another fight.
He heaved a sigh that echoed throughout the empty building. Water rippled under foot. Long shadows began to darken the area, wind whistling against the thick walls. He stared down at all the abandoned items in the pool, trying to name off every one when he realized that the water was darkening. He stilled, watching as all the items in the pool began to disappear behind a cover of black.
Startled, Virgil rose from the edge and backed away, unsure of what was happening. Water rippled, as if something was hidden underneath. Water splashed against the edges, spotting the concrete with dark color. Virgil was frozen in place as the water shifted into one rolling lump–he eyed the exit nearby, wondering if he should make a dash for it when the lump began to rise up from the pool. He stared at it in awestruck wonder, listening to the slight splashing noises the water made as it dripped from the shape forming in front of him. He began to realize that it was taking on the body of a human.
The building seemed to immediately drop several temperatures, Virgil taking immediate notice of it as his breath became visible. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the womanly figure in front of him, brown water shifting into pure black as the woman shifted from a fetal position into a slow standing pose.
Virgil hadn’t seen anything like it: her hair danced in currents, streaming from the top of her skull down into the remaining waters of the pool. Her arms briefly separated from her body, pulling up into a gesturing motion to catch his attention. Nothing was clear–just a womanly form, her facial features hidden behind the currents of movement.
The water dripping from her form rang out loudly within the silence of the building. He still wasn’t sure whether to move. The oddly constructed form in front of him had his full attention, his wonder. Blackened water shimmered as she moved, every movement languid and graceful, hair streaming over her face; brushed behind her ears with indistinct fingers.
“Virgil,” came the murmur, the feminine tone distinct and clear. Its voice echoed throughout the building, dancing off the walls with a musical feeling that sent goosepimples up and down his arms. He stilled once more, eyes widening at the sound of his name. He couldn’t move; frantic thoughts raced through his mind, conjuring up images of his mother.
He had thought he’d forgotten the sound of his mother’s voice; but this woman...this thing...sounded so eerily close to Jean’s. His mouth fell open slightly, water dripping on concrete as the woman shifted once more, becoming a lump of indistinct movement before dropping back into the pool with a loud crash of sound. He yelped, trying to avoid the water that splashed over the edge, coating his shoes. He pressed himself against the wall, scooting away from the water, eyes never leaving the pool.
Silence once again reigned in the pool building, water shimmering on the walls as it caught faint light from the outside. Virgil was aware that his heart was thumping loudly against his chest as he frantically wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing. If that voice he’d heard was...something he made up.
He started to make excuses for himself, sure that it was all a result of stress and lack of sleep. Or perhaps he was sick in the head. Something to explain what had just happened.
“Virgil.”
The voice once again rang out, distinct and clear, echoing off the walls of the building. He jumped in startled surprise, pressing himself against the wall to avoid any sort of attack. The pool shifted once more, the form suddenly clinging to the edge of the pool and hauling itself out. Virgil froze, gaping at the blackened form, water spreading wherever it stepped. Its facial features were growing more clear as it neared him.
He held out his hand, intending to activate his power, working on reflex when he remembered what element he was dealing with. The form drew near him, smelling of rank water.
“Virgil,” she repeated, her mouth a blackened shape on her face, eyes blinking clear as she blinked. He could see clear through her eyes, spying the back wall. He froze, unsure of how to take this as she brought with her immense cold and moisture. His clothes grew damp with her closeness, sticking to his skin and making him shiver. “My name is Maria, Virgil. I’ve been waiting to speak with you.”
Virgil had no idea how to interpret this. He stared at the water-woman in silence, grimacing at the freezing quality his clothes had taken on. Water in the pool splashed, catching his attention for a moment as she then said, “There are others like you, Virgil. Blessed with special gifts.”
Movements of water had her form pointed away from him, presenting him with her back as she languidly strolled along the edge of the pool. Everything about her glistened as she moved. “You’ve done this before, Virgil. But you probably do not remember it.”
Virgil swallowed tightly, frowning. The woman was crazed–or was it even a woman?
She was inverting into herself once more, facing him. In a smooth movement, her form poured back into the pool, water splashing over the edge and spreading over concrete. Virgil relaxed slightly, pulling at his damp clothing. He faced the pool with certain confusion, unsure of what was being said. Suddenly, he felt as if he were in some fantastic situation he could only seen in movies; in fantasy books.
The woman in the water was once more forming at the edge of the pool, her arms hanging onto the edge as she faced him. Virgil noticed that the temperature was rising–that the black in the pool was once more turning dingy brown. Ripples formed only at her movements. He watched in silence as she placed a lone object before her, stretching her arm out to do so. The sound of the brass key hitting the concrete rang loudly in the quiet stillness.
He stared at the key with a puzzled frown, noting that there was plastic hanging from it. The woman smiled, slowly starting to sink back into the pool. Virgil was bewildered, unsure of what he was supposed to do. What he was supposed to interpret.
“Wait–!” he cried, moving forward. But she was sinking into the pool, black disappearing into brown. Soon, the pool was still, and the building was silent once more. He stared into the darkness, the key near the tip of his shoe. The concrete was still wet where she’d splashed about; he could still hear her voice in his mind.
He crouched, retrieving the key with a puzzled expression. The plastic keyring read, “Motel Six”, listing its street address. A number was imprinted upon it in permanent marker. He frowned, looking back at the pool once more, rising to stand. He didn’t get what was being said of him. He didn’t get the situation at all.
Quickly, he jerked his backpack off, running toward the locker area. He shoved the key into his jacket pocket, rummaging with light curses through every available pocket until he came to a worn cellphone. It operated in one number operation; pressing any key insured him direct communication to Richie. It was also a tracking device for his friend; which was how he’d found him earlier that day. It was security on both their parts.
“Rich!” he yelled into the phone, then lowered his voice with a wince. He heard a loud creaking noise coming from the pool area. He quickly reshouldered his bag, running out of the locker area and into the main lobby. From there, he hurried out through the doors, taking on the incoming night with an expression of worry. “Rich, come in, it’s important! For reals!”
He struggled to pull his folding disk from the back of his bag–once free, he tossed it before him. Flying off into the night, he ran into creeping fog, making him slow his progress and descend sharply. He narrowly missed several street lamps as he hissed into the cellphone for Richie once more. Thinking of Maria, he gave up on trying to talk to Richie and went to track him instead.