Quarterfinals: Reason
Tim had a lot of amazing things about him, but if Amanda could attribute him one fault, it'd be that he honestly hates travel.
"No. No, no, no," he said, shaking his head and wagging his finger at her. "You got me to come down here, but another country? Good luck, Amanda, but hell if I'll step foot away. I gotta get home to my dog anyways. Love you, girl. Let me know how it goes."
It was a moment where Amanda just wanted to run after him and screech, but instead, she packed her bags and took the flight. Why? Perhaps it was a sense of duty. A want to get things done. Something inside her that just screamed 'you must' and she had to answer the call. Besides, the rest of the group was going, and there wasn't that many of them. If they messed up or ended up dead what would happen then? No, she couldn't just ignore it. It was easier to accept that things had to get done.
To accept that her phone didn't ring half as often, that she barely got emails, and that people weren't that reliant on her after all. The company was going just fine. They would be until she got back to get them into gear for overdrive season. There's nothing to do but to complete this. Then, I'll go. They lose people left and right--it shouldn't hurt the Empress, once we save her ass, to go and lose another. Besides, from her files, she has lots of potential candidates still.
The files were what led Reason to her travels--and to Tokyo, which, of all the places, was likely one of the most laughable trips she'd ever made. It's like I'm a walking cliche for all superhero movies--that's okay, because this Golden Whore is making the best of her time. It hurt, a little, to mention the name. Of course, going through the files had come with a surprise--one of her friends, the one who'd quit messaging, and one of her allies, one who'd died. The same. It stung in an unpredictable way, but Amanda didn't have time to grieve. After all, people died every day.
It hurt, but having over half the team killed off had hurt as well. Everything hurt. Especially her leg, with the bruise, the stabbing, the gunshots. Things healed but healing took time and time took having the world in order. Until, she'd be running with everything she had. Popping a few painkillers every now and then? It's nothing. I won't get addicted to them, I'll use them sparingly, and when I fight...this pain will drive me. I'll attack with everything I have. And when we get her back, I won't attack anything again. It'll go back to normal. Just like that.
She hadn't had time to tell anyone about her plans, but that would have to be okay. People quit jobs all the time, and when a company was going down, it was always better to jump ship than to drown with the rest of them. So why did she feel like saying something would be so bad? Amanda shook her head. No. Don't think about it. Stop thinking.
The apartment around her was plain and that's what she liked about it. Bare walls, bare bed, and a packed bag with everything she needed rolled up and tucked away. A black gun rested beside her lap and she played with it, letting the tips of her cracked nails scratch against the surface. Smooth, cold polish reflected her, the ceiling, and the pain that cracked through her skin with every sigh and bitter pursing of the lips. The world was waiting. She was waiting.
For what?
Azazel had promised--given his word, though Amanda doubted his word was worth much--that the Empress was captured and hidden somewhere in Japan. That she could be found by going there and searching, in the larger cities. Someplace where it'd be extremely hard to actually find her, but someplace the entire group was willing to go and search for. Japan, of all places. God. At least I can get some food and a sense of a different culture here. That'll be interesting. They've got lots to offer and yet here I am...on business.
It was the same old tired story. She wanted something new. Instead, she'd have to continue hashing it until things settled down.
They didn't have a name. Or not a real one. Every identity that Amanda had found for the person was fake. Yet, staring at their image, Amanda couldn't pull herself to find something real in that either. An average body, an average face. Pale skin, dark hair. Dark eyes and a brooding look that seemed to stare through her soul, as though Amanda herself were nothing but a facade of a person. Pretending herself to be a superhero.
The bed quaked beneath her--not from joy or the simplistic pleasures of an active mind and a good book, but from the way her leg trembled and the absence of one itched. In the way she kept scraping her finger against the gun. In the way she closed her eyes and opened them in another world. Hours later.
Where had she gone? It didn't matter. Time didn't matter. Life? God, Amanda was over everything at that point. Time was a liar and jet lag was killing her. Emotionally, she wanted to square up in a hole and sleep for hours. To dig her nails deep into the cover of a hardback and let her fingers trail along the fragile paper edges until she reached the climax, and then, to find the sequel and keep going until she couldn't anymore.
But no. No, because she was walking. One leg, metallic and glittery. The other, black and glittery. Her dress? Black and glittery. It was the glitter that killed her--it'd been unintentional, but apparently, some kid-- a teenager, really--had been throwing glitter for a party and photo shoot and she walked straight through the middle of it. Japan was something else. Not that she hadn't had the same thing happen on graduation week in her old city, but that there she could at least expect the glitter to be the school colors.
The storefront looked cute on the outside.
It had lace in the title.
On the inside, it looked cute as well. Red and black and sheer purple beads that were multi-color and shifted between the purple and a deep cerulean. Paper lined the walls and little dots filled Amanda's vision as she came forward, walking through a maze that existed only inside her mind. Each turn was another color, another shade. A wall of motion and dots that blinked and winked, leaving much to be desired as she stumbled through to the back. A table sat and she ran into the side of it, scrunching up her face as the pain radiated throughout her hip.
"Fuck," she whispered.
"No thanks," they answered.
They were a person in a way that Amanda had never considered before. Alive in a nonsensical account--breathing in a way that left their mouth open, their eyes closed, and their fingers trapped between the planes of existence. Where were they? Amanda didn't know. Did anything truly exist? She wouldn't say.
"You're here."
"I am."
It was something beautiful, watching a face without eyes and eyes without a face. A trip. What acid did she stumble into? Her heels would never tell. The seat was soft and her butt slid into it like it was butter and she was a creamed potato. Every inch of her relaxed, caught between the trap of a good seat and a bad lie. The lights in the room flickered. Or maybe she just closed her eyes too long. Either way, when she looked up again their eyes stared into hers--pouring words from one dimension into the other. A million stars blinking. The whisper of a colony.
The screech of eternity.
There, she found solace in the absence of comfort. There, she found exactly what she'd been looking for.
"Is the Empress alive and worth saving?"
"That's two." They paused, licking their lips and trailing a hand around the edge of a cup. Silently judging. The questions lingering, bouncing off one another. What answers were in store for her? "You only receive three, you know." Fuck. One of those. Fine. Three answers. I can do that.
"Is the Empress alive?"
It shattered the mirror in the background. Gunfire. Screeches. Blazing horrors and lost minds. A cry and two tears running down the face of a woman who didn't exist. The question came with the noise and the noise came with answers she never wanted to face.
"Are you often an angry woman, or was that only when you just graduated from high school that you were angry enough to cut your entire family from your life?"
Amanda shook. Her knee clunked against the table and her fingers dug into the wood before her. It was cedar. The walls were green. Their eyes were black. The bright red lipstick had worked into the corners of her lip as she spoke, sticking to the edges of her front teeth. "I'm angry. Not often. Yes, I was angry that night. I had every right to be. I get angry sometimes. That's why I do the job I do--so I don't have to get angry. So people can sleep safely. Is that answer enough for you?"
A nod and the shatter grew louder. Voices raised. Two more gunshots and a knife to the throat. A gasp. Then, noise stopped altogether. Amanda shook her head. Don't let them get to you. They're just a metahuman.
"Whose side is the Empress on?"
"What is your biggest fear?"
Shot for shot. Every answer came with a question and every question came with the noise. The cry. The softness of black and the consummation of a marriage so unholy the stars exploded and the world cursed. Seas shook and mountains shivered. The explosive coughing of a deranged mind. The silent answer. Amanda, nodding her head. Her nails digging deeper into the wood. Cracking. The gun, on her hip. Shaking. Wishing it could unload itself.
"I fear death."
No. That wasn't it. Not right. Not human. Not whole. They required an answer. A real one. Reality smacked her in the head as her fingers dripped down, touching the base of the gun, touching herself. A reality too extreme. Nightmares flickered between her lips and slipped from her teeth as the barrel touched her nose. There, they nodded.
"The Empress is on her own side--don't worry, it holds true that whatever will come is in your best interest."
She blinked. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed. The walls were crumbling. The world was still. Outside, cars blared. Too loud, too close. People walked past, their footsteps too loud. Amanda shook her head and then shook herself free of the chair. Black dots followed her as she started walking away.
"Don't you want your third question?" Their voice followed her like a lost puppy. It was sad, alone. Wishing for someone to take it home and strangle it. Amanda shivered.
"You know what? I'm done. I'm done with this. You're worthless and you have no information that I need. I'll let the rest of the group deal with you." With every step away, the lights flickered. Her questions were unanswered. The world was moving. It'd never stopped moving.
Just as the door closed behind her, a little voice rang out into the open. Answering her last. Giving hold to no questions, for all she'd done was honesty, and all honesty had done was screw her over like every mistake that'd ever happened in any bar. A shiver trailed down her as she felt her fingers twitch. Her phone buzz. In her hand, there was an address. Forwarding or not, it was the only thing she needed.
She didn't look back, but let her voice whisper behind. A loud thank you.
The world moved on and Amanda, cold as ever, moved with it. The world outside was cold and she sparkled still. There, at least, her mind didn't betray her. There, at least, she was one step closer to being done.
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