Chapter 211
Ellison looked
I swallowed down the swell of emotion and tried to shake it off.
Kids are small. Thats obvious. But you dont truly realize until you take responsibility for one, how slowly they grow. Maybe it wouldnt feel so painstaking if they grew up protected in a vacuum. But they dont. The world swirls around them, tearing at their unknowing hearts, shredding them with a debris of endless collateral they had nothing to do with. Hurting them for no goddamn reason, when they did nothing to deserve it. And you cant help feeling that eventually, the storms and gusts will tire of toying with them and rip them from your arms entirely, carrying them away.
Because as much as wed like them to be, kids arent protected by some common law of decency, or God, or trivial plot convenience. They get hungry and gaunt when there isnt enough food to go around, fall victim to outside influences and grow cynical, and in the end, die like anything else.
So, as much as wed like to wish the opposite, we are so often left wishing for something many would consider cruel.
Grow up and grow up quickly. Please. Before the world throws more hurt your way than I can protect you from.
Ellisons physical characteristics had changed little. His arms were bigger, the clavicle at his neck more pronounced, his shoulders broader. He still held his trademark, all-knowing smirk that was his default expression when he wasnt scowling.
But his eyes had aged a thousand years.
His metal armor reflected a warm blue, a fiery indigo bird etched into his chest piece, wreathed in blue flame.
Behind him, maybe twenty feet away from us, a man with long curly hair, wreathed in cloth bandages that flowed freely behind him despite the absence of wind in the cave stood. He was gazing at the Nosferatu in the crater, but seemed entirely too relaxed considering the strength of the enemy at hand.
Belatedly, I realized Ellison was talking. and now Im waiting for you to pay attention again.
I blinked.
There it is. Ellison said. What I was sayingbefore you drifted off to poignant nostalgia landwas that there were quite a few things I needed to grab to prepare for this. And I knew you could handle it. Nine times out of ten, you pull that victory out of your ass. Thats why I couldnt help more during the transposition. He trailed off, and his gaze grew distant. Still. I know the toll it took on you. What it cost. And Im sorry I couldnt help more.
I wanted to talk to him. There was nothing I wanted more. But the Crimson Nosferatu didnt seem like the type of creature polite enough to let you pause for an aside.
I inclined my head towards it. Is
Hell wait. Ellison finished. Hes ornery, but his perception of time is different. Hell, hes older than most of the population of Texas combined. Also, hes a pompous geriatric fuck who likes to let his prey come to him. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))
And Miles?
Stable. The collateral looks bad, but the amount of control that thing has is absurd. It knows I want to get Miles out, and theres nothing more useless than a dead hostage.
Something ticked in my mind. An inconsistency. The vampire. Did you mean he thinks hes older?
From my mostly guesswork understanding, monsters generated in the realms of Flauros were synthesized at the behest of something greater. Probably by the planners. Their previous life memories were fabrications, the only life they truly lived was whatever they carved out for themselves in the dungeons.
Ellison slowly shook his head. Not exactly. This really what you want to talk about?
No. It wasnt.
Your ability. The future knowledge. How does it work?
A dark shadow flitted across Ellisons face. Time loop.
Progressive or self-contained?
Self-contained.
Any carry over of abilities, items?
Not a damn thing except this. Ellison pointed to his head and scowled. And even then I dont get the full package. My memories fade like anyone elses. Theyre more or less consistent, unless shit goes really bad early and post-traumatic stress gets out of control, then my memories from that loop are fucked.
I slowly connected the dots. There was a problem with time loop fiction that always stuck out to me, in that the protagonists go through several life-times worth of trauma and mentally age dozens, if not hundreds of years. Realistically, any normal person who went through that would be reduced to a gibbering mess of insanity by the end, and the accumulated anxiety, depression, and angst that the constant futility would incur.
They reset your fucking mental state. I hissed, barely able to believe it.
You always have such a visceral reaction to that. Ellison mused. But yes. Hell, half the time I wake up at the beginning, as soon as I think about the shit Ive done in the previous loops it inevitably ends with me purging in the bathroom.
I gritted my teeth. As far as the average person went, Id done a decent job taking things in stride. But going through something like this once had been hard enough. Losing all the progress Id made and despite that, knowing all the horrors in store? I couldn't imagine.
It was all I could do to stay calm, fists clenched at my side. If youd told me earlier, I
Ellison quirked an eyebrow. You what? Would you even have believed all this shit at the beginning? The guy who watched someone with powers out of a marvel movie get eighty-sixed in an alley and went to work at Dunkins the next day?
He knew about that. The way he was talking, hed been in the loop for a while. I had to assume he knew everything, keep deceit to an absolute minimum.
Fair. But Im not that person anymore. Let me help you now. I argued. Deal me in. I wont undercut you, or muscle in, or try to steer things in a direction I want. Youre on point. So fucking delegate.
To be fair, Ellison continued as if he hadnt heard me, his expression softening. You catch on pretty fast. Faster than most people. There were a few times, mostly earlier on, when I woke up and I just couldnt handle it. What happened before. Couldnt get out of bed. Couldnt eat. And when I broke it was like you knew exactly what to do. You scheduled a shrink appointment we couldnt afforddate always set after the dome came down, but it was the thought that countedtook off work, and let me cling to you like a stupid child. You even read to me. Though Ill be honest, the book you usually chose was, uh. Not the greatest, considering.
There was a lot to unpack there, and in the meantime, my mind seized on the last thing he said.
Then make haste. The Nosferatu hissed.
I processed what had happened, slowly. That actually worked?
Uh-huh, Ellison said. The higher level monsters develop a lot of quirks. Some get nastier, more deviant, others gain certain preferences. Its all about drawing out their values, figuring a way to use it against them. But you already know a thing or two about that. Cant speak to where this motherfucker got the Dragon Ball Z fight logic from, but I will not complain.
He took a knee and drew various metal pieces and cylinders out of his inventory. One by one, he assembled them with practiced ease; the pieces coming together to form a tripod. Slowly, the device took shape. Once I realized what it was, I couldnt help but snort.
A ballista.
I call it the anti-armor magic deterring cyber influenced magic implosion ballista. Or AAMDCIMIB.
It was a terrible name with an equally terrible acronym, but somehow, knowing that despite everything my brother must have endured he still held on to some of his old quirks, was a minor comfort.
You are a fool, small one. No mortal weapon can wound me. The Nosferatu called over the clearing.
Every time you mention my height is another five minutes youll suffer before I kill you. Ellison muttered.
He pressed a tiny object, similar in size and shape to a roll of lipstick to the far end of the ballistas bow. As he pulled it back, a luminescent blue beam of light emerged, tethered to the bow. He held the object far from his body and stepped over the miniature ballistas body, attaching the beam to the other edge and stepped away, Ballista complete with the requisite string. Then he fiddled with the gear-like mechanisms of the ballista, pressing his head against its body before returning to the adjustments, dialing in the range.
To answer the question you didnt finishthe really, being a hypocrite isnt a bad thing, in an unnecessarily sarcastic voice. Ellison said quietly, Im not talking about flip-flopping, or punching down on someone for doing something you do regularly. Im talking about the big shit. How many wars do you think could have been averted if the drum beaters at the top were introspective enough to stop buying into their own propaganda?
Youre not wrong, but Im not seeing how that applies here. I said.
Ellison shook the ballista, then banged his forearm against it. There was a click of something falling into place.
Cold rationality and self-interest is an effective mix for survival. Theres a reason so many assholes make it to the end of the world. But theres a limit to how much that can help you before it does the opposite. And from my observations, you, in particular, can reach far greater heights of power, the more people youre trying to protectalmost out of pure necessity. Our family. The Adventurers Guild. Kinsley. Nick. Sae. Miles. Ellison paused, as if deciding whether to mention something. Jinny.
Is
I cant answer that. What I can say, is that excluding the last name, this is the first time theyve all been alive simultaneously. Mostly because you helped them. Other things I cant talk about are also going uncharacteristically well. Which is why I did what I did.
It stung, but I understood. Tried to remove the variable before it skewed the results.
Exactly. For just a second, Ellison looked ashamed. Ive obviously reconsidered, which is why were having this conversation. I cant fully deal you in, but I dont think this deviation from you is an act, and if I dont take advantage of it now, I might never have another chance.
What do you need from me? I asked.
First and foremost, I need space to work. If you follow me, try to figure out what Im doing, or use your vocation ability to spy on me, were done.
Got it.
Ellison loaded the Ballista bolt. Or at least, that was what I assumed it was. It was forged from pure shadow, and despite the decently lit environment, it almost convinced my mind there was nothing there.
Secondly. I need you to do what I ask, when I ask. For the immediate future, thats grabbing Miles while Im keeping Mister BBEG over there busy. Dont back me up, dont even take a parting shot. Ellison scratched his nose with his third fingerthe signal to ignore what hed just said. With the timing, he wanted me to prioritize getting Miles out, but wouldnt turn down any help I could give him on the exit. Once youre in the elevator, I need you to pass on a message to Miles, from you, in this exact wording. For someone so concerned about the good of the people, you really ought to look into what Waller was doing in his free time.
Whatyou cant tell me that. I finished, before he could speak.
Now youre getting it. Ellison smiled. A genuine smile, not a smirk. It slowly faded. Ill let the fed fill you in after hes not jammed up with a bounty and investigates. Waller needed killing. It seemed like a solid opportunity but now that were working together, it could make your life a lot more difficult. You need Miles off your back. Trust me. The guy is relentless.
Figured that one out, I muttered.
Once the ball is live, you need to hurry. If you take too long with Miles, you may miss something else. Something important.
Nick? Or something else. Its all so goddamn vague.
Also, be careful with the Order of Parcae. Ellison continued. Im guessing that youve figured out that we need them in some capacity, but their management leaves a lot to be desired. Youve handled them well enough, and I think youre heading in a good directiondragging them out into the spotlight with this stunt, not shooting Aaron in the face the first time you saw him, keeping body count to a minimum before you know all the players. Just again, be careful. Ive never seen this exact scenario, but as you know, theyre not fucking around. The Order turns nasty on a dime.
Hastur? I asked.
Ellison shook his head and pressed his lips together.
How long has it been? I finally asked. Since the first loop?
Ellisons voice was tired. At one point I kept track. Wrote the number down on my journal as soon as I woke up and stared at it until I was confident Id committed it to memory. But now? I cant even remember the number I gave up on.
The image of Ellison was trying to hold on tomy impression of him as a moody, clever kid who would hopefully brighten up after his teenage yearsfinally faded away, and I saw him for what he was. A soldier that had been at war for far too long.
I opened my mouth.
Yes, Ellison cut me off, and pulled a hand down his brow, contorting his face. Assuming I survive this, Ill come to dinner. Might even stay and watch a movie.
Great. In that moment, that was all I wanted.
Lastly. Youve got a thirty-second window before this thing grows its head back. In one smooth motion, Ellison reached down and fired the ballista.
