7A: A Song Of Yesterday

OPENING CREDITS:

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- Part Seven -

“A SONG OF YESTERDAY”

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I hadn’t thought that it could get any more secluded than that small settlement on the fringe of Seven Devils. I was wrong. I knew that it wasn’t the case, but there was something about the woods that always made me feel small. Like everything was shrinking. I followed the blue woman through a path that only she knew. I still wasn’t quite sure just how far I could trust her. She had a reputation for putting knives in people’s backs. And in their fronts. Here I was, though, hot on her trail. We were well into the day by now, but you wouldn’t know underneath the thick overgrowth.

The crack of a twig behind me told me how close the gruff man at the rear me was. Based on what I heard, I was confident that I could get out of dodge in time if he decided to get frisky. But I was here for a reason. The blue woman called herself Lycana, though I knew that wasn’t her real name. Her and Marf, the man who trailed behind, had a queer relationship. Lycana had asked him to stay behind. He refused. I did my best to stay out of it. It wasn't my fight. But it was interesting to get a peek behind the curtain with these here brigands. They weren't in agreement about it, but ultimately Marf wound up coming along for the trip. In the end, the girl just seemed to give in. I still didn’t quite understand why she was even helping me. When last we were together, she lit a match and I was the kindling. I think it left Marf confused as well. He wouldn’t even let me light a cigarette.

"This is it."

The curious gal stopped in her tracks. The world around us looked just as damp and dreary as it had been five minutes ago. I didn’t see much that was different about it. By the look on his face, neither did grizzled Marf. That gave me some comfort. It told me that if this was a ruse, at least he wasn’t in on it.

The comfort was short-lived. I became keenly aware of the feeling of eyes staring at the back of my head. I turned. Marf did the same, and actually joined me at my side. I didn’t know what to think of that. Two of the strangest figures that I ever saw were standing, motionless, next to the face of a rocky outcrop from the mountain that grew up above. I clenched my fists, and through the corner of my eye saw Marf do the same. Lycana, with all her wiles, stepped forward and spoke to these… people… if that was the word. She used a language I hadn’t ever heard before. And that was something, coming from me. They listened to her, and stepped back from us. The dame then stepped up to the mountain’s face and raised her hands.

“Ego vocare super terram et lapis… Ostende mihi viam, quod non est notum.”








”What are you doing?” I asked. But what I saw was unbelievable. Impossible, even.








Her hands glowed a brilliant hue of gold. As the elves - and make no mistake about it, I knew that was exactly what they were - bled back into the foliage at her request, I let my attention fall upon the magic before my eyes. A part of me wished that was a metaphor. But here, before me, I saw an arch appear on the cold stone, piercing its way at points through a coat of moss. The arch moved. It shifted back into the mountain, and a dark tunnel opened ahead. Lycana goes to enter.

“What are you doing?!” Marf calls to her, before she can step foot inside. “You’ve taken him this far.You hadn’t even brought me here until today. Why do you need to go any further?”

“I’m just trying to help,” she pleads back. The tension is palpable. A mere week ago, I would have been content to egg them on. To see their world break apart. But this is not a week ago, is it?

“It’s okay,” I interject. They both take their time registering that I had even spoken. Or at the very least, in reacting to it. Eventually, however, both sets of otherworldly eyes fall upon me. I look between them each. “I have it from here.”

“See?” Marf says, gesturing to me to make a point.

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” she replies. They’re having a conversation without me.

“Do you?” he jabs at her.

“What are you trying to say?” I don’t have time for this.

“Enough!” I shout. The sound of my voice pings across from rock wall to tree trunk and back again. They both shut up. “I don’t know what’s going on here. With the two of you, with me, with Betsy, with any of it. I don’t even know if I should fucking care about half of it. What I do know, is that I’m going into that cave. And unless there’s something in there that’s going to go BANG! BANG! or CHOP! CHOP! I don’t need you to follow, Lycana. Either way, I’m fucking going in.”

I know that wasn’t the most sensitive way of handling things. But I was so close to Everything. I could damn near reach out and finger bang it.

I could read Lycana’s face with ease. That was… odd and unlike her. She wanted to press on. It was like she wanted to be there for me. To his credit, at least from my perspective, Marf didn’t seem like he wanted to throttle me either. That was a plus. But his emotions were just as transparent as Lycana’s. He saw no need to get caught up in a battle that wasn’t his. I really couldn’t blame him.

Their conversation continues. That much I could tell. But it was a silent one, and a part of me was thankful for that. Keep me out of whatever fucking 90210 melodrama was going on between them. I had bigger fish to fry. Through their unspoken communication, they were still able to reach an agreement. Lycana crossed the woodlands floor, sweeping past me until she was standing by Marf’s side.

“Good luck,” she said to me as her skirt brushed my leg. I look over to the tunnel, and then back to the people who I had previously wished to see flogged, drawn, and quartered.

“Thank you,” I said to them both, making a deliberate attempt at eye contact with them both.

I didn’t wait for a response.

There was a room that nobody would expect to find underground in the middle of nowhere.

And I stepped into it.


A pause of my own reflection.

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7B: A Song Of Revelation

“You can’t be here!” shouts a portly woman as she rises from a wheeled chair. She scurries over to me as she tries to block me from entering any further.

Behind her, I could hear sounds not of this mountain. Whirs and beeps of the world outside. Further, even. At the very limits of what the world was capable of. I followed with my eyes as cables ran along the ceiling to a screen displaying three-dimensional models of human organs: heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and more. At the sight of it, an off-putting part of me grew hungry.


“Miranda, is it?” I ask, resting attention back onto the woman. She stands with her hands on her hips, and a pained look across her face. Her eyes nodded though her head never moved. “It’s okay, Lycana brought me here.”

“She didn’t tell me you were coming,” the woman, Miranda, replies.

“To be fair, she didn’t know I was either until I got here,” I shrug. She didn’t like that. I could tell. Not that I knew her well. I tended to want to return the favour. I had a default inclination to not be very fond of her. Doctors, always poking and prodding.

“How do I know I can trust you?” she asks.

“I call upon the earth and stone. Show me the path that is not known.” I am quick with my reply. It’s the incantation that Lycana used to open the door, translated from Latin. I’m not sure if she knew that I understood it while she was uttering it. I also didn’t know if Miranda would know it herself. A shift in the doctor’s shoulders that indicates she does. “Are we good?”

Even her head nods this time.

“Can you take me to the Patient?” I ask.

“Uh… yeah. Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel and leads me further into the room. It isn’t a particularly large space. Sterile white walls, floors, and ceiling gave way to shiny chrome everything else. I spy a small nook behind one of the large machines that grinded with the sounds of life. A kitchenette was embedded into the far wall of the opening, and there were a couple of cots on which to sleep. The coupling continues as a couple of eyes also make themselves known. Miranda wasn’t alone down here. That’s good for her, I guess. I give a small wave to show that I’m no threat, and the eyes pull back.

The Patient dominated a small raised platform on one side of the room. Lying on a gurney that jutted out of the wall without any supporting braces underneath, tubes and coils wrapping their way from the body to the walls and life-saving equipment. The body, known to me first as The Baphomet, lay before me, kept from ever entering death’s door. I get a sort of twisted joy in what I see. Stuck in Limbo here, he can never see his will realised, one way or the other.

“Has there been any change?” I don’t take my eyes off him while I ask.

“Not since he was brought here,” she says. I guess that’s good. I take a step closer and muse to myself about how easy it would be to pull the plug right now. How easy it would be to send him on his way. Miranda couldn’t stop me. Whatever it was hiding in the nook back there couldn’t. I know that I could do it. For all our differences, I’m pretty sure Marf would throw a fucking party. Neither of us could really understand why Lycana had even kept the body alive. Maybe… without her even knowing… it was for me. Maybe it was for this moment.

With my left hand, I reach towards him.




Wait! What was that?

No! I stopped seeing these fucking things months ago! They can fuck right off!

But this… this is why I’m here.

I reach out once more.






I hear a voice on the wind. But there is no breeze on which it travels.

I…

I…

I understand.

After nine long months, I raise my left hand.

And I bring it down upon his head.







I am nothing.

I am nowhere.

I am a voice inside a head.

I am not alone.



She is here.

She is something.

She is everywhere.

She is a voice without a mouth.



“My child, you have come. I have been waiting for this day.”

“I think I have too.”



I am empty.

I am darkness.

I am that which was before.

I am that which will be again.



“It is time. You have raised your hand. This is what you were made for.”

“I… I…”



I am me.

I am alive.



“I… I… What do you mean, ‘made for’?”

“Let me show you.”

And she does. I see myself in a cell. I throw myself against the walls until I bleed and break. They pad them; as much for the safety of their own structures as it is for me, but still I persist. I continue. I FIGHT.

But I am one of their structures. I see it now.

The upside down pentagram on a dagger. The vivid crucifixion of Christ upon the cross, hanging above the common room of the hospital facility.

I see The Left Hand.

Not The Baphomet, but others. A wide-reaching network of filth and degeneration. A twisted offshoot. And I am a part of it. Pumped full of drugs and beaten until I am no longer what I was.

I am me. I am alive.

And I am their creation.

“Come. Embrace me. Pick up from where The Baphomet left off and bring forth The Left Hand’s true purpose.”

“I… I…”




…

Nothing changed.

I am here.

She is there.

But…

There is a song. A beautiful melody in the back of my mind. Not her voice, no. Not anyone’s but my own. I am singing.


Softer, my voice lingers.


And the chorus hits:

“I think you should kindly go fuck yourself.”

I fight! RELENTLESS!

I survive! RELENTLESS!

I burn this motherfucker to the ground!

RELENTLESS!

Say it with me, everyone: FUCK THE LEFT HAND!

“You were made for this, child! Now kneel!”

“Oh… haven’t you heard? I don’t fucking kneel. I’m the Anti-Doc. The Kingslayer. The Monster-Hunter. The War-Winner. The World-Beater.”


“And babe… I’m the motherfucking Godkiller. Fuck you.”






I am the fire.

And the darkness fucking flees before me.

“You… you were corrupted. I see it now. I see who betrayed us.”

“Oh yeah? I’m going to be needing to see that for myself right about now.”

I reach into the memories of a god and pull the information out by force.

And I am swept away.

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7C: A Song Of Freedom

The desert was nothing new to me. It was under that relentless sun that I first got the faintest hint of a life beyond what I had known. I had failed that night in Tombstone, almost a year ago. But the world didn’t end. I don’t think I ever quite appreciated that until now, as the warmth coddles me once more. There’s something liberating about it all. Here, where life is harshest, the only restrictions are those which you place upon yourself. And if you chose to live without any… well then, you get this.





The outside matched the inside. Bleak and barren. Minimalist, in a confronting way. He didn’t even ask any questions when I turned up on his doorstep. He looked at me from behind eyes that dreamed of a dying world, and he simply turned and walked back down the hallway. I wiped my feet on a mat outside, passed across the threshold, and shut the door behind me, before following him down the spartan corridor. It opens up into an open area that I presume is supposed to be a lounge, where my host has already fallen back into the crevices of a black leather chair, watching me intently.




“I don’t really need to introduce myself, do I?” I ask, taking a seat opposite him. He shakes his head without saying a word. “Thought as much. I feel like you already know why I’m here.”

“I have a good idea about it,” John Caedus replies, unblinking. “I’m more curious about how you found out.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let’s just call it ‘magic’ and leave it at that.” He cranes his head to the side, studying me.

“I would believe more than you think.” Now what is that supposed to mean exactly? I suppose it tracks, to an extent. I don’t know how much he has to do with his brother Jim anymore, but the younger Caedus has certainly leaned more towards being a ‘believer’ lately. At least that’s one way of describing it. I wonder what else John knows.

“You know my background too?” Yadda, yadda, yadda. I don’t need to say it. Everyone’s heard it all before. Right, Lou?

“Involuntary admission to hospital. Deprived of liberty for a decade. Penchant for setting everything alight.” He rattles everything off so dispassionately.


“That more or less covers it,” I say. “Turns out the whole hospital thing was a front for people to experiment on me and turn me into something… well… other. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He shifts in his seat and his eyes narrow.

“You were there,” I continue. “You helped them.”

“Well…” Whatever passes for a smirk on John’s face finds its way to the surface. “I did and I didn’t.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“I was hired to do a job,” he begins. “Help some turn soldiers into better versions of themselves. From the looks of things, I’d say I did a pretty good job.”

I’m taken aback a little by his openness. I’d say that something about it feels off, but in truth, everything about John Caedus seems ‘off’.

“Except it wasn’t a soldier they were fucking around with,” I growl. “It was me.”

“It wasn’t part of the job to look into that,” he replies.

“That’s a fucking cop-out and you know it!” I rise, towering over him in a strange case of reversed fortunes. He looks up at me with the same level of indifference that I had shown to those I encountered in Boone and Seven Devils only a day ago.

“I suggest you sit down,” he quietly says, gesturing back towards the couch. I’m a child though, so I don’t listen.

“I suggest you tell me what the fuck you did to me.” I am not backing down. Not this close to everything. Not this close to the end.

“I showed them how to change how you think, that’s all.” ‘That’s all’? As if messing with my head is something on level with tying your shoelaces or pouring yourself a glass of water.

“They tortured me!”

I, the fire.

He, the arsonist.

As my voice rises, so too does John’s body. We stand, eye-to-eye, each staring into a tinderbox ready to blow.

“They made you stronger,” he tells me. “Besides, I left a little back-door in there for you, and it looks like you’ve found it.”

“What?” Answers! I’m here for answers, not more riddles!

“The pink critter.” By God, I think that’s a genuine smile on Caedus’s face. Bemusement, I think? “What was it again?”

“The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur,” I reply. And my heart stops.

The gravity of it all floods over me. A crashing wave that blots the light. A part of me knew it. Surely, a part of me knew it!

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur isn’t real.

I’m not special. I’m not unique. I’m not different. I’m just a scared little boy that monsters had their way with.

“That’s the one,” John says. I struggle to even hold attention to him. The world as I know it, is slipping away. “It’s a tool. You see that don’t you? A weapon. That mind of yours is free in every sense of the word. You’re not bound to them, or to anyone. You’re free to burn it all down as you see fit.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, meek and insignificant. He leans in close to me, whispering in my ear. I feel the hot rage of his voice.

“Because this world needs a good burning.” He pulls back, and turns towards a full-length window on one side of the room. John Caedus gazes out over the arid dust bowl that stretches towards the horizon. “Also, because I saw you coming before you ever even knocked on my door. I let them know you were here. They should be coming to get you in five… four… three…”

“You did what?!”

“...two…”

There’s no escape.

“...one.”

A dart hits my neck. The world grows blurry. John Caedus doesn’t pay me any mind, as I fall to the ground in a heap. The last thing that I hear is the sound of thumping feet.




Am I a creature of fire, in a magic ball of cold concrete, ready to be summoned?

No.

Not this time.

I am a Patient.

I always was.

I sit in a padded room, with not even a television screen to watch. Nothing to draw, nothing to Eat. Certainly no kitchen sink! Nothing to do save for gripping my knees and rocking. I could rage. I could throw myself against the wall. But what would be the use? It won’t budge. I know that. The Doctor told me.

So I sit. And I rock. And I wait. And I sing.


Softer now. My body matching pace.


KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Hello, in there! Are you feeling okay?

It’s not a nurse. No. And it doesn’t come from the square window

It’s my man in black.

Padding becomes a mirror. A mirror becomes a window. Intangible, but there, right in front of me. A light behind the glass reveals my fate.

Kieran King sits in a rocking chair, cradling the crying child. His brows furrow when he sees my face contort into a grin. Crooked and wide. I fall back onto the soft ground, and I laugh!





My ghosts of yesterday are here! Today! John fucking Caedus. He loves him some chaos, doesn’t he?

Kieran doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t. People like him never do. He thinks I’m trapped! Caged! Ripe for the picking. ‘Ever forward’ he thinks about the journey. No matter the twists and turns. But does he think about the destination? Do they ever?


He’s mere feet away from me. Served up on a platter, with just a wall between us. But I always find a way.

“You have something that I want,” I tell him. He coos down at the child.

“You are something that I want,” he says.

“Why?” I stand, staring through the window. “Have you ever stopped to ask that? When last we spoke, you told me that you were just trying to survive. All this, though, it’s for them. Not for you. Haven’t you ever wanted to be free of it? To be able to make your own decisions?”

He thinks upon this. Or so he feigns. A dismissive shrug gives away his indifference.

“That’s like… your opinion, man.” He tickles the still crying baby’s stomach.

“It is,” I agree. “It very much is. So what’s the deal now? You call the Doctor? Or whoever she answers to? Pledge allegiance to The Left Hand, put on a goat-mask, take part in a blood orgy, and lick the boot of your master?”

“Bro, I ain’t in the Left Hand,” he scoffs.

“Nah, you’re just their bitch,” I retort. He tenses his jaw.

“I’m not sure I’d be so quick to talk shit when you’re the one locked in a fucking cell.” He’s right. I look around at my surroundings, and it’s stripped fucking bare. I have nothing. All the trappings of what had been offered before are gone. Not even as much as a nurse. Nor any padding.

Huh?

Stripped away.


I’m in a room.

Everything I want is just on the other side of that wall.

ROOOOOOAAAAAARR!!!!!!





A figment of my mind. Or did John just tell me that for shits and giggles?

Who gets to define me?

You know the fucking answer.

You know the fucking answer.

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur destroys the wall. I destroy the wall. What’s the difference, in the end? The wall is still in pieces.

And the King King is at my mercy.

He falls.

The King falls.

And I, the fire that snuffed the flames.

In my arms, the child’s tears turn to laughter.

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7D: A Song Of Tomorrow


“So what now?” I ask of The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur.

The Universe gives me the answer…




Five artifacts gathered. Five altars glow.

I step through the door.

“Hello.”

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7E: A Song of Triumph

“Uh… Doctor?” The nurse says as she barrels through the door. The Doctor looks up from their busywork. No bother. Not much happening there.

"Yes?" they ask.

"The Patient is gone." The words hang in the air. The Doctor is stunned. They thought they were so close to a breakthrough!


"What do you mean, gone?" they ask. Reaching for a remote, they press a button that brings a screen in their office to life. The padded cell isn't just empty. It's on fire.

And it's spreading.

"That’s… concerning."

They know what it means. They’ve felt it before.

~~~~~

Somewhere else, neither atop a mountain, nor in a cell. No void nor office. The Patient is not a patient.

He is that something else.

And surprisingly… he is in a wrestling ring.


"Bored now.

The game was fun while it lasted, but now? Looks like you've thrown in the towel, DOC. It’s no fun when you don’t can’t play along anymore. Kudos on keeping up for as long as you did though.

What a time to be alive, eh? Here we are, rocketing down the path towards the biggest match on the biggest stage, as you so aptly put it in when you first stumbled out of the blocks. With everything on the line like this, on the grandest stakes of them all, you… the one with such a vaunted reputation… you save one last backtrack for us! The one whom everybody knows won’t disappoint…

He does.

You do.

A part of me wonders if this is all just some sort of trick. To lull me into a false sense of security, and just as I’m sitting down with a nice jam and cream scone to eat, BAM! The big bad wolf comes and blows my house down. Except… you’ve told me not to read so much into what you’re doing or saying. So in the interest of offering you an olive branch before we attempt to flay each other alive, I’m trying to listen and even respect our wishes there. A little bit, anyway. Ergo, this here? No tricks! Just DOC. Under my foot. Again.

You should know though, I haven’t even begun to throw everything at you. Not yet. Maaan, you should see what else there would have been in store for you, if not for… you know. But I'll hold onto that for now. Just for one more day. See, I don’t need to throw everything at you now. Nah, man. That comes at Relentless. I just hope that part of the reason you’ve been so limp-dicked is that you’re trying to hang on to whatever energy you’ve got left in those creaky bones of yours so that you at least get a few good shots in on my face. Lord knows you haven’t left a fucking mark yet.

Besides, all this jumping down your throat at every chance I get… is it really throwing everything at you if it's just what I do on the reg? I agree, DOC, we do seem like we’re going in circles. I fear we’re stuck at an impasse, and if you ask me, the end can’t soon e-fucking-nough. Not long now though. Ain’t that a relief?

I continue to be genuinely baffled by people like you, who think that there’s some sort of flaw in me taking your own words, putting a lil hot sauce on ‘em, and no… not shoving them back down your throat. I bend you over and stick them straight up your fucking ass. After I’ve de-plugged your head from it, that is. Hey, here’s a novel idea! Instead of bitching and moaning about me poking holes in your fucking narrative (TRIGGER), how about you stop saying so much stupid shit that I can so easily fire back at you? You said you were coming into this with a gun against your head. It’s probably not wise to keep loading the fucking barrel for me then.

What I’m hearing from you, DOC, is that somehow you think this is a me problem, instead of being a you problem. You waltzed in here trying to big-man me, acting like you don’t need to lower yourself into the filth that I swim in on the daily. It ain’t my fault that you then dipped your toe in the waters to check the temperature. I just did what vermin like me do. I bit that stumpy little fucker, and pulled your wrinkly ass ALL the way in. Go ahead though, use the ladder and pull yourself out like you’re trying to now. You’re just going to be standing on the sidelines, sopping wet, looking even more of a fool than you said you were at the start of all this.

I hope that everyone at home is hearing this! The great DOC D’VILLE is now so stripped down to his skivvies that he's gone on the fucking telly to seemingly take issue with me simply replying to what he's said about me. Like… at all. Am I exaggerating that? Am I twisting it out of context? I really don’t think I am. He’s out here, flaying like a fucking goober, saying that without anybody to trade barbs with, my fire would just die. Jesus tail-tucking Christ, I ain’t ever seen somebody run around with such thick blinkers on before. I need someone to battle? To respond to? Because there are absolutely no examples of me repeatedly beating people over the head who are too drunk to offer me any of their own words to chew on, right?

Imagine being so unfocused that you don’t even see this for what it is. This isn’t the fight. This is just the tenderising of the meat. I really thought it’d take a little longer though. Instead, you’re done, with nothing more to say. Shit, you’re practically cooked already! I know you think you’ve already made your point about May Day and War Games and all of that. The part that you’re missing is that I actually agree! You have made your point. It’s just that your point ranks pretty highly on the shit-take scale, especially when you hold it up to all the counterarguments made by the little boy here. That’s me, by the way, if you didn’t pick up on it. You’re being outplayed by someone you think is a fucking child. And so you get out the white-out once again and you keep ignoring all the excuses that you already made. Oh yeah, we’re back to that. Say you’ve ‘learned’ all you want, but that’s a song you’ve only started singing now - it sure as shit wasn’t the case after the last time that you ‘Got This Hand’, if you catch my drift. It ain’t even a fucking implication anymore. You’re a suspect without an alibi. And if you won’t speak any more on the topic of King Louie, then you’re practically fucking admitting it. There ain’t no pleading the fifth here. That king wasn’t quite the version of you that I’m dealing with now. You made that loud and clear from day fucking one of these shenanigans. Therefore, it’s a fucking excuse.

On the plus side, at least I think you’re being honest (have mercy!) about your motivations. Pity it just doesn't mean a damn. I guess after much debate, you’ve finally settled on where you stand on the whole ‘book’ front. Or maybe you just learned how to make your point clearer - less ‘wasted words’ and all that.

FUCK!

That’s your prerogative though, bud. I just don’t quite get it. I thought you wanted us to have a session? Kind of seems like a dunce move to not try and understand what makes your Patient tick, doesn’t it? So much for fucking learning something. Flip-flop, flip-flop. Et cetera, et cetera.

Good job backing me into the corner, DOC. Sounds like I’ve improved from that gun in the mouth then. Same principle though. Scratch, claw, bite, burn, EAT. Same fucking result as ever. Way to leave me nowhere else to go but ‘ever forward’. An even more sarcastic way to struggle to understand that people can turn to the fucking side. But fuck it, let’s show a little growth, shall we? You know damn well that if you leave that fruit just hanging there, then I'm going to snack on 'em, but let’s cut a different path. Just so we can finish this fucking thing on a high. Without further ado, let me metaphorically (TRIGGER) crack these knuckles o' mine and get to giving you a good verbal spanking, just the way you seem to want it!

…

…

…

How was that? Did I nail it? Probably brought a tear to your eye being reprieved from the double-fisting for a couple of seconds. That’s all I’m hearing from you, though DOC. I’m hearing that you’re begging me to stop. Oh no, you’d never admit it. I almost admire how proud you are. But you’re trying to paint a story that I shouldn’t say a fucking thing about all the bullshit that you spew, just because you fucked up. This isn’t a hall pass I’m giving myself, pal. I’m just not so fucking stupid as to… wait for it… BACK MYSELF INTO A CORNER with it. Ooh-weee! I’ve gosh darn done it again, haven’t I? Taken them purrdy words of yours, slapped some lipstick on ‘em, and acted like they ain’t still the fucking shits.

It’s okay, though, buddy. It’ll all be over soon. We’re only one sleep away from the finest fucking meal of the year. I fucking hope you’ve got something else in the tank, because I’m ready, baby.

I’m going to EAT LOU.

…

LOL!

Did I have you convinced that I had stopped all of that name nonsense? Probably not. Lou never gets fazed! Nah, just gets hung up on minor affronts to the way he wants to paint the world. Just like me! ’Inspired’ all right. What a fucking rort.

To be transparent with you, I'm really just doing it now because you’re getting so pissy about it. Who's unfocused again?

Better shape up and get what’s left of that addled mind straight. Tomorrow’s a big day!

And after I’ve chewed through you, if anyone else wants to come to the dinner party, then we’ll just let the cards fall where they may. Looking at you OCW.”

Looking at you, Corey.


~~~~~


The flames had reached the Doctor’s office. The heat was becoming unbearable. The nurse didn’t make it. Her crisped remains were still visible behind the licks of orange and red on the other side of the office window that opened up into that damned corridor.

The door fell inwards.

This was it.

The end.

“Hello.”

---

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7F: XX_Progress Notes_210925

Patient Progress Notes
Date: 09/23/25	Therapist: My Angel	Facility: The Hospital
Patient:	Age: 27	◻ Female ☑ Male
Session length: ______	☑ No session able to be conducted.
Treatment Issue: Patient has become too strong to contain. Need solutions.
Symptoms observed during session:
☑ aggression (physical) ☑ aggression (verbal) ☑ agitation ☑ anger ☑ anhedonia ☑ anxiety/fear ☑ appetite disturbance ☑ danger to others ☑ danger to self ☑ decreased energy/fatigue ☑ delusions	☑ depressed ☑ distractibility ☑ emotional lability ☑ feelings of worthlessness ☑ hallucinations (auditory) ☑ hallucinations (visual) ☑ hopelessness/ helplessness ☑ impulsivity ☑ irritability ☑ negative statements	☑ noncompliance (medical care) ☑ restlessness ☑ sad/pained/ worried expression ☑ self deprecation ☑ sleep disturbance ☑ socially inappropriate ☑ social withdrawal ☑ suicidal ideation or plan ☑ thought disorder ☑ other: ☑ other:
Diagnoses: None.
Intervention strategies implemented and session focus or theme: The Doctor is going to get their ass kicked.
Patient Response:	☑ Marked improvement ◻ Some improvement	◻ Same functioning ◻ Symptoms worsening
Evidence of patient response: He’s here!
Future treatment/Follow-up: [Incomplete]
Signature of therapist/title: [Incomplete]

---

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7G: A Song Of Endings





Music welcomes me through the door, playing from an old record player.

The song:





“It was always going to end like this,” I tell My Angel. She sat in her office with her head bowed. The doctor’s warts and snaggletooth had brought a strange sort of comfort lately. This close to the… well, you know. Next to me, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur growled. No translation needed. The baby played quietly in the corner.

Around us, everything burned save for the song.

“I know,” she says, accepting her fate.

“You know why I’m here,” I continue.

“I do,” she replies. But it’s not like that. It’s not what someone else would be thinking. Or at least… not quite.

I pick up a piece of paper. A progress report. An account of what they were trying to accomplish. A whole lot of boxes ticked by now. They failed though, didn’t they?

Everyone has failed.

I toss the paper into the fire.

More papers fall into my hands. A gift from The Universe.

Each burned to ash.

Ash, the Doctor.

Ash The Left Hand.

Ash, ---BLINK!---

Ash, Ever forward.

Ash, Que séra, séra.

This is the end.

The girl remains. She is from another world. A reality beyond me. I… I can’t change that world. Not yet.

As for the rest?

Ash, the artifacts.

Ash, the puppets.

Ash, the hospital.

Ash, that cold rock hurtling through space.

It has crashed. And burned.

The mystery. The intrigue. The facade.

Ash, it all.

Ash, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur.

He disappears from beside me.

Before now, I never knew what it was that brought me here. I knew I needed to fight, but why here of all places? I know it now. The Universe opened up Everything for me. And along the way, the names and faces I met have unlocked so many doors.

I am exactly where I belong. And there is only one final piece that remains.

Me.

In my hands, a piece of paper. On the other side of it, my name.

One last choice.

Is who I was even important? In the grand scheme of things, I mean. Do I really wish to be beholden to a past that brought only struggle and torment? Or do I wish to let it all drift away? To be… free.


Click Here To Decide


Thank you. I love you.

I have made my choice. And I’m happy with it.

One way or the other, I know all that I need to. My name goes the way of everything else.

A memory of ash.

This is the end.

No more chasing ghosts. I went through my life, my history, once again, all to bring me here.

No more questions.

I know.

I know who I am.

And I can say those three words, never uttered.

I do say them. Now. To the void. As I am birthed back into reality.






























“I am Alias.”





















THE END.