Walking down a long alley of sorrow, Mercury scoffs, ignoring the headlights of the black car staring at him.
Cinders of inferno funnel into his eardrums; a house of memories douses them.
Hazy smoke fogs, corroding his cranium.
Gripping his hair, he intends to tear it off.
Mercury yells painfully; each window stays colorful.
A pain so intense , that it bangs on his head in such immense.
Glee, glee, please, that's all he will plea. Only to be free, except it's stunned . . . growing like a tree. Agony's weep of thee.
. . .
I remember the old vined classrooms I was in when taken in by foster parents.
. In that free time, I pondered the windows, the students struggling, the sniffling of stress.
Oh, how that window entertained me.
Yet, with so much time, I could only wonder — where would they end up? Would their end be as consistent as mine?
Are they happy with where they are now?
Something is always to blame for our ends, so what do I blame?
. . .
Snapping out of the epiphany, "It's the world . . . I acquit my sycophancy."
Mercury marched onward; his stance vulgar. His heart convulsed, so had it pulsed.
Suddenly, a whirring stroll from behind intensified with each pounce.
A step, then another. Blue eyes scanned him from top to bottom. There's no mistaking it.
Mercury ignores her as he starts scurrying away. The woman catches up.
"Why are you running, Mercury? When you have no idea who or what is going on?" Sara uttered.
Halting, "What do you want now?"
"You're doing this for no reason. I miss when you were . . . happy."
Furrowing his eyebrows, "Happy? All that coding, yet you can't think, huh? Stay out of this."
"I would never leave you behind." Sara sways her hips, walking closer.
"Do you hate me, Mercury?" She caresses his face.
Mercury shrugs, pushes her, and runs. She still chases after.
Halting, he can't run away anymore.
Stopping, "Oh for Zaleth's sake, what?" He tensed.
"If I loved you . . . would you feel the same way? Even if I'm not a real girl to you?"
Mercury glanced downward; his nails dig into his arms, his jaw clenches.
"What could you know about love? You are an idea. An idea of love. An idea of a girl. I want you gone. It's not safe for you anymore."
She continues staring at him with bright eyes.
He steps closer, hesitant. "You are what those inhumane see. You are a forge of anomalies. Therefore, you are less than even a monster."
Whether vulgar or not, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
. . .
Her blue eyes spiral, pondering a response.
"W-why . . . why are you so harsh, Mercury?" Her head tilts fluidly.
"Because I despise all that made you. Your body, your face—it's a mask that died, a flower mimicking one that withered. Your words are the words of those who caused this," he uttered.
"And am I not better? I serve the people, and I bear the mask of something beautiful." She gulps.
"Look into my eyes, Mercury. Can you tell me what the mask has done when it was alive?"
Mercury raises an eyebrow, his mouth slightly open.
With a bold smile and red cheeks, "You cannot. But who knows, maybe this is better off."
" In a sense, replicants are superior. We follow orders. So, who's the real problem out there? After all, you represented us both."
Sara walks forward and grips Mercury's hand tightly, way too forceful for even a machine.
She lays her head on his shoulder as she grasps. Mercury watches carefully.
"Are you lonely, Mercury? You're one of a kind. But is being special worth it this time?"
"I—"
She lays a finger on his lips, interrupting his speech, dragging it down his chin, gliding his neck.
"Shh . . ." She speaks muffled, buried in his shoulder. "You fight back too much. Weren't you okay with these kinds of things?"
The voice echoed in Mercury's mind. It spiraled into a frenzy of chaos that enlightened him.
'Okay'? Is she out of her mind?
. . .
Am I okay . . . with this?
Sara turned her head on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid to let the beast out, Mercury." She giggled.
Mercury backed off. He knew what she insinuated.
"Relax, Mercury. Live for them, not you. You cheated death, so don't cheat them." Sara smiles.
Her delicate fingers pressed on her thick lips with a sneer. A shadow of motion as she outlined the shape of it with her finger.
. . .
Mercury's eyes sharpen; his mouth speaks fiercely, "Just what the hell do you know?" he stressed.
Sara glanced at an empty wrist , like the watch of an esteemed pretender. One she deludes herself to.
Veins pop on his temples; his posture widens, and his teeth sharpen. Is he a man? Monster? Replicant? One can no longer tell.
Oh, the horror of a white lie that clamps his own head in decisions.
He feels a drop landing on his forehead — light, but dreadful. Then another. He wipes it, but there's nothing. Another. This time, it feels like a pounding on his skull from the interior, waiting to break through.
"We both wear masks, Mercury. For that, we are connected in one way or another."
Sara's gaze glistens, warping Mercury into a trance as she leans forward. His eyes widen, and his lips—locked. Her lips lock on his . . . intensely they hold each other. She holds the feeling as Mercury relaxes. Her lips are cold, pale, almost matching her skin color.
Nothing's restraining me, but I can't move.
He is exhausted, and this is the only affection he can afford now. An unexpected love that he embraced.
They interlock; their fingers intertwine. Her long eyelashes rub against his, his wired braid pushed aside by gentle winds.
Just for that moment, he felt some sort of peace. She consoled him, and he let go of his aggression. Their masks rub against another without a break. But beneath one, a bitter taste.
Simultaneously, they let go. Their lips separate gracefully, but she holds her arms around his neck softly, and he doesn't resist.
He didn't intend to let go. It was a feeling he never felt, but one he never knew he needed.
Sara smiled.
Her fangs on full display as her eyes sharpen in his diffusion of hostility. She cackles lightly, a serpentine grin gliding across her face.
Then, gently twitching downward to her watch, she shakes as she only sees a wrist. But time will never be a concern for her.
Mercury raises an eyebrow, but her sculpted face deluded him; her touch seduced him; and her voice trapped him.
Sara giggles to herself, but no joke was told. Mercury looked around, puzzled. He wanted that feeling she took away as she stepped back, now on an edge on both sides, riding a thin rope.
His anger turned to a feeling of rejection.
Mercury attempts to utter a word, "Wh—"
"Shh . . . relax, Mercury. After all, I am just a pile of code, no?"
Rushing, a surge of adrenaline strikes back into Mercury's replaced heart with a cold surge.
But her face had imprinted on him. He stared intently.
"Was it never obvious enough? I thought you were better than me . . ." she mocked.
A voice crept into his head.
Wake up! Wake up! General Mashia! I would've expected better of you!
That voice was all too familiar. To Mercury, there was no mistake. It sounded like Farhan, but he was already gone.
Gone, gone. Now there is something to lose. Now he ponders . . .
He felt a presence—a presence deafened by Sara's beauty.
A rush from atop the buildings filled his ears.
. . .
In that split second, long ropes slid down the tall skyscrapers beside them.
An armada of pale soldiers with heavy armor crashed onto the ground, like dozens of cannonballs.
Their thick boots skid across the pavement.
Sara spoke casually, "Guess you had a point . . . we never change, huh? Hopefully, this is the last thing you'll have to worry about."
She grinned maniacally, opening her arms wide as if begging for another hug. Her mask disheveled to reveal a blank canvas with commands behind a thin sheet.
Bearers, they said. Bearers, they foretold. Now he bears what he hadn't foreseen.
Mercury steps back.
They get in formation in arrays. Dozens of soldiers with rifles filled with a light green-blue liquid in tanks attached to them. Volverns?
Amongst the crowd, he noticed a woman staring with wide eyes and an olive tone.
Selune!
Noticing he saw her, she stepped forward. "General Mercury . . . or should I say, Mashia? Your crimes are broadcasted to the entire nation. You know what you did, and so do we."
She holds up her rifle.
"Therefore, you will be eliminated."
Mercury steps onto the road between them—the armada on one side, and the serpent cackling silently on the other.
"I've committed crimes? You've betrayed the Messengers of Mala! Not only that, but you're threatening a superior with your switch-up!"
"You're no longer in authority of me, for you are convicted of murder, and a plethora of other charges."
No. No . . . I never did any of those things! You framed me! Everyone framed me!
"I never did such a thing! I am framed! Framed, I tell you!"
"We've all seen the news, Mashia. There is no running from this."
His mind then ran counter-clockwise, quickly losing its composure.
"Ha! You convict me because you see me as something you can't control! Don't you see the bright windows and these dull buildings?"
"They all have lives, but you treat them like rats, and you see that as okay? You laugh at them and see them as slaves, but you are a slave of your own too!"
"This is my choice," she said.
Mercury's mind spiraled — his ideas scrambled to the back of his head, where he started mumbling to himself.
His fingers twitched. Every word felt scrambled to him, like a puzzle he had to solve to form a phrase. However, he does it anyway. Now is not a time to falter.
"We are all slaves to something!" he shouts, his throat raspy.
Then, he clamped his hair with both palms; he looked up in disdain. He had never felt so cornered before.
Selune lifted her rifle. The uniform was absorbing all light in its darkness.
Her face emotionless, like she sold herself to gain this role. At the lift of a hand, all other soldiers lifted their rifles.
Selune pulled the trigger, and held it tight. It charged a green-blue bubble with lightning radiating from it. Mercury knew what was coming—
He ducked!
The shot pierced past him, curving and forming a giant hole in the dull building on the other side.
In a sudden decision, he runs behind Sara, who stood with a bright smile. She turns her head robotically as they all laugh at him.
"Why do you hide behind me, Mercury? You only chose this path, while I was made for it," Sara chuckled.
"Weren't you just consoling me?"
"I get the job done."
"Is that what you really wanted" he insisted.
"All I wanted . . ." she blurted, like static.
Sara stared, silent — then shrugged him off. A twitch collapsed her thought; her orders realigned her.
Her eyes blinked far out of rhythm.
"All I wanted was you dead," she murmured.
"You don't mean that."
"I don't . . . not." She shakes her head violently as she laughs.
"The fact is, you still hide behind me like a child. What matters is what you did."
Mercury stood there, trying to wrap his thoughts around his own foolishness.
"Accept it, Mercury, my dear. Whether you did it or not, you wouldn't accept it either way." she echoed, her voice refreshed.
He was brought here, and he realized he had fallen for it.
Sara giggled. She stepped aside. Mercury's expression tensed, his heart pulsing with every second. She looked down on him, then to the army, and pointed toward the hotel room they were in moments ago.
She had once felt love. Now, rebooted into a mindless puppet with a flower for a hair tie.
"There is an accomplice in that building," Sara uttered without shame.
In unison, the soldiers arranged a devastation. They aimed their rifles at a single spot: the window-wide wall that made the hotel stand out. They took aim . . . and fired.
Dozens of blue beams streaked forward, inching toward the glass. Upon impact, they collected and absorbed one another, forming into a single point.
A concussive orb of glowing orange. An orange brighter than fire. It's luminance eroding any sunlight and stealing the sky's spotlight.
The city flinched like scared children. Curtains shut rapidly. Lights winked out like a power outage. A thousand unseen eyes chose silence in their despair of accepting this as normality.
. . .
BOOM!
Mercury felt the light shine in his eyes.
A light so bright, it led him nearly blind. The sound warped intrusively into the eardrums of those unlucky enough to be near it.
Then he heard a whisper, a whisper that turned malformed into a familiar mumble. A mumble of prayer.
He heard every mumble of prayer once more, he could hear the "Mercury" again. But could hereally hear it again?
Could he?
. . .