Hyperpunk Virgo 1: Dreams of Oblivion

Réaltineris watched as Aodhán left. Waiting until the child they had failed in so many ways had vanished from behind the closed door before letting the tears that had threatened to flow the whole bitter exchange release.

She felt Raquel’s hand against her left shoulder and placed her own hand upon it, accepting whatever comfort her friend was willing to give her. Only to find herself in the fallen angels embrace as tears flowed anew beyond her control.

“Fuck!... Just… Fuck!”; she sobbed.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay”; whispered Raquel reassuringly.

“How?! How the fuck is it going to be okay!?”; cried Réaltineris, “And how the can they be so calm about this? This is beyond insane!”.

Lobo, having sauntered over along the edge of the island to behind Réaltineris as they heavily puffed away on their pipe, growled in frustration before speaking; “Hasn’t been since the moment they were born. Not that they or you are to blame. The diagnosis and the prognosis is simply just that suffocating grim”.

Lifting her face from the crook of Raquel’s neck they looked back at the door their child had left from. The urge to leave, to follow them, to ascend and fight alongside them, was painfully strong.

But then their eyes drifted down, landing on the Glass jar in Xenia’s hands.

A fire burned in her lungs and the presence of a familiar venom burned in her veins. A desire with many names. Vilified by the unjust and sacred in the hearts of those who had the ability to retaliate. The force that could create worlds of justice and peace in a universe of cruelty and suffering.

The force that could empower a mortal to murder even the gods.

Vengeance.

Rising up and out of the Fallen Angels embrace, they stalked towards the Concubus.

Xenia, realising what Réaltineris intended to do, held up the container for Réaltineris to take- letting her keep her momentum as she manoeuvred over to Claudius. He looked at the jar and then back up to Réaltineris’ with an unassuming expression.

“…What, pray tell, do you wish for me to do with this shit?”; asked Claudius.

“Whatever the fuck you want so long as it leads us to the Darwin Group!”; stated Réaltineris, “So long as you give them a reason to live! A reason to start fighting back against those who wronged them in this realm. So they realise their worth and stop seeking a quiet exit in another”.

Claudius looked at the jar with the distain it merited, sticking his hands into his coat pockets and grimacing.

“You sure you want to go down this path?... You sure you want to put Aodhán on this path? Revenge is as good a reason to live as any. It was what drove the heroes of old. Alloyaxa, Crepara, Gideon… Fenris”; Claudius stated, dropping the act that he knew everything and being sincere, “But all of them pursued revenge as an act of creation. They didn’t have nothing to lose, they had everything to gain. Unless Aodhán finds something else to live for- the desire for revenge will consume them. Not like fire. But like an acid. It will eat away at them from within unless they have something to compound it with. Are you certain that you want such a thing for them?”.

“If it doesn’t light a fire under their ass and keep them grounded in this world. Nothing will!”; answered Réaltineris, “I can live with Aodhán looking at me like I’m a stranger. I can endure them hating me. But I cannot endure watching them live like a hollowed out husk… Can you do it or not?”.

Claudius took a long sign, running his hand through his hair as he closed his eyes and thought things through… and then answered.

“Yes, I believe so… The Darwin Group were all BCEI Cabal Scientists. High-achievers, instinctively driven and conditioned to innovate in some direction their entire lives. If they’ve skulked off to anywhere it was most likely Hagen-Trueblood Biotech or Abimbola Chemtech. That or they’re operating as a subsidiary of Doryukaza or as an indiecorp with a defence contract with them. The kind of work they do and the kinds of laws they break? They can’t survive in the open without the protection a big ass mega-corp can give them”; Claudius thunk out loud, “I’ll divide the sample into three containers and add tracers… w-we can add tracers to this shit right?”; Claudius asked openly.

“I mean… it only reacts te’ organic matter”; Fafnir brooded, glancing back over to Lobo and then back to Claudius, “Plastic-shielded Nanites may be adequate. Probably”.

“Failing that. Just run some Thorium salt under an Aionium electro-mag. We can trace the inverse-radiation using the satellites”; Tunrida added academically, “It’s not like anyone handling it won’t deserve to get inverse-cancer”.

“Alright then… I need to go back to Los Arcángeles anyway. Check out a possible sanctuary for the Coven. While there I’ll see if the Wraiths have captured some lowlifes from other gangs, get ’em released, hire ’em as mercs, set them up to be couriers. Nothing happens, it means they’re being cautious because they don’t know what they’re handling. If ones found dead and it looks like a hit, we follow the tracer and send another Merc in. Might produce results”; Claudius answered, “Might lead to a dead end though. Might just end up giving the Corps the base from which to make the mother of all bio-organic weapons from… But hey, fuck it! Sounds fun!”.

Réaltineris smiled a little as Claudius took the jar and made to leave only to stop in his tracks as Xenia’s drones walked in sync passed them both, marching towards the door to stand at attention.

Glancing back to the glossy Concubus, Xenia was already standing up. Leaning against the table checking the slide, electro-magnetic rails, battery pack and magazine of her Beretta & Colt M2014A1.

“You cannot fight beside them. You will only end up fighting their battles for them”; Xenia sighed tiredly, pushing off from the table and making for the door, “But they are my protégé. I must guide their agency”.

With an appreciative nod, Réaltineris watched as the domineering Necromancer left. Her entourage of Drones opening the door for her as she walked through and closing it behind her.

It wasn’t enough to put her mind at ease. But for as isolated Aodhán had made themselves, they at least weren’t alone. There were people fighting for Aodhán as hard as Aodhán believed they were fighting for them.

It was enough to give her hope.

Maybe, somehow, it would give Aodhán hope too.

-

Aodhán was roused from their meditation by the sound of footsteps. 5 pairs of feet stepping over the earth. The creaks and squeaks of rubber skin audible under the whistling wind.

Opening their eyes they looked to their right, seeing Xenia standing to their side. Staring out in to the distance and holding in her hands a Battery Handgun. Her Drones standing at the ready with their Sandraudigas.

“Chilly tonight”; Xenia mused, “But not unbearable”.

“You should head back inside”; Aodhán stated coldly, “May just salvage your beauty sleep”.

“And miss all the fun?”; Xenia said with evident bloodthirst, “I think not”.

With a frustrated sigh Aodhán faced forward, looking out across the hills seeking any sign of movement; finding it as 5 dark figures emerged from the north, emerging from the rocky gap between two hills. Racing on all fours as fast as cheetahs, knowing no fatigue or exhaustion or pain.

“Here they come again”; Xenia stated calmly, before turning to Aodhán, “Show me that you have not forgotten yourself in the beyond”.

Arising to their feet, Aodhán took a few steps forward. Letting their awareness expand in spite of their fatigue. They felt wretched, but powerful.

In the Astral Realm they were acutely aware that everything was, to varying degrees, thalergic. Alive. And as such nothing was truly dead.

But here in Mortalis, there was thanergy. There was death. Bones and flesh and ash devoid of life that could store energies in substitute of it.

Drawing power from within, their veins burned through their right hand. Aodhán brought their bare hand down upon the earth and let the Eldritch force within them flow into the earth. Seeking the dead both buried and spread around the Tech Duinn over millennia.

Standing back up they gestured for the dead to rise. For fire to reform ash into bone, and bone to become invigorated with fire. From small cyclones that swirled around them the skeletal bodies of wolves and men took shape, 10 in all, growing infernal as the flame magic used to conjure them engulfed their beings.

The act of necromancy complete, Aodhán became vaguely aware of the emptiness within themselves. Of the phantom organ within being emptied through what was physical. It was like running out of air and realising with some horror that there was barely any air left with which to breath. Yet somehow managing to continue to live anyway.

With a huff they reached around and shouldered the stock of the rifle, silently willing the flaming undead to charge at the oncoming horde of skinless, tainted meat; aiming down the sights to line up the rifle with the Bloodclot at the front of the pack. With a slowly drawn out breath, they pulled the trigger and fired. The blasts of automatic shotguns and an electro-magnetic handgun joining their weapon in an orchestra of gunfire.