The sun doesn't rise when the night never ends–at least, that was how it felt to Delilah as they impatiently waited for something to make sense. The room, with its spray-painted veneer walls, exposed steel beams, assortment of people, and seating arrangements that would make any sane person immediately question themselves, didn't help to settle Delilah's nerves. The lamps flickered in sync with the lightning that burst outside.

"Well, yeah, I guess that sums it all up." Artx, who had been speaking the whole time that Delilah had begun to catastrophize, finally seemed pleased enough to quit talking. It had been an entire half-hour monologue about some plan to reveal a cure to rust poisoning using the blood of surviving mutants while increasing the revenue by suggesting that they blame the Copper Spires for the rust and go against a long-standing governmental agreement to capitalize on the spires and to ensure that no one associated them with the rust.

Silence enveloped the room and swallowed everyone individually, and every ounce of focus poised itself towards Delilah. It was as though everyone waited for Delilah to speak.

Within such a short time, so much had happened that it was almost easy to pretend that the world was normal. The copper spires growing outside would never cease, the warblers would continue to sound, the storms would overtake them and wash away the rust just in time for the morning dawn to arrive, and the orange puddles would all be which remained to signify life against the barren landscapes.

Old Idyll would remain on the outskirts, used and faded, yesterday's news.

The city of Idyll itself would remain, slowly fading as the rooftops collected more vagrant life and the shine slowly dulled from each building. Until then, the alarms were blaring outside, and the storm took over and ruined any ambiance.

Delilah looked at Artx and tried to pretend they'd been paying attention with a question that somewhat addressed the issue. "Blood cure?"

Rosax pointed a heavy side-eyed look in Delilah's general direction and sighed. Her voice almost sounded condescending if it weren't so sweetly spoken. "Some idiot," she paused,
"has been giving up their blood to cure the mutant children, and the testing results have finally reached a consensus that it's not only treatable, but it's making these children indestructible."

Now, that was something new.

"Indestructible."

The children that Delilah always saw near the dumps were the most destructive creatures Delilah had ever seen–always bloodied, their bodies full of rust and pain, their faces contorted, and their screams enough to haunt a grown man's dreams. Most of the children who received cures didn't return.

Either death would take them or the life they had to live as an outcast–the purple and orange-tinted skin, the rust that would overtake their blood, the way their bodies would slowly rot as they drew more and more rust in every open pore...

They weren't indestructible.

They were children. They were weak. They would rather do anything but face the public again–hiding, scared–

"They've been taking the children you cure."

Outside, the thunder was overtaken by lightning. Wind and hail burst through the open windows.

Delilah couldn't focus on anything but Artx's face. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips half parted, and he stared Delilah down, ready to repeat it if he had to. At that moment, Artx wasn't a restless young adult; he was something else.

Something broken.

His voice was low as he spoke. "You're a dumbass for not realizing it sooner."

Delilah looked at the other faces, hoping they would say something, criticize their friend, make a slide comment, or retort. It didn't come. Instead, none met Delilah's gaze outside Rosax, who kept something akin to hatred deep within her glare.

"How do you know all this?" Delilah asked. "How–are you working for them? What was the plan? How do you know of me? How long have-"

"We've been hacking them," the bubbly one said. Celicia, with her pretty gaze, seemed to perk right back up as she spoke. "Or really, Artx did the heavy lifting."

"Celicia did most of it; don't let her lie to you."

Delilah cursed. "So you're delinquents who have been hacking a company for what? What is the end goal?"

Broxton placed a hand on Delilah's shoulder–somehow, in the argument, he'd managed to cross the space and touch Delilah without alerting them once. It should have been scary. Instead, it was almost comforting.

"We're going to destroy that company."

"If they've got a cure..." Delilah shook their head. "If there is a cure, if my blood was saving them... We can't put a stop to that."

Artx rolled his eyes. "Come on, you think they want to do good with something like that?"

"As opposed to what? If there is a real cure, we can save people from going through exactly what I went through! What you went through as well. You wouldn't want to save them?"

"They want to kill you, Delilah," Rosax said. "You think they'd let you live? They need your blood."

"Mine?"

"Yours." Broxton, who'd been just standing there and shouldering Delilah's confusion, squeezed Delilah's shoulder. "But we think that there's a better cure."

"You think?"

Celicia stood up at this and pointed at the wall. With a flick of her wrist–or the remote she held–it came to life with a powerpoint and diagrams. It was all very scientific–something they probably would love to read if Delilah had the time to read, but Delilah didn't have time for this. Every second that was wasted arguing was another second that Annabeth was gone and that Delilah was being hunted and–

They were looking for Delilah.

They needed Delilah's blood.

It could save people.

"I can't live based on a theoretical," Delilah said. What would Annabeth say? "This is...nice. It seems like you've put work into this. You all seem to have some plan to stop an impossible force just by some...hacking. It's well-thought-out, surely."

Delilah gripped Broxton's hand and squeezed–a sign to let go, which he took without disagreement and backed up.

"I feel there's a but coming up," Celicia said. "You're a part of this plan, Delilah. Just hear us out. Don't run."

"I want to trust you," Delilah said. "I need to save my daughter first."

Artx raised his hands in the air and sighed. "This is useless. Brox, sedate them."

***

As Annabeth stood in front of the ornate mirror, her reflection stared back at her. The last day and a half had flown by as though time itself was ready for things to end. Even though the building was well-shielded from the storm outside, she could still hear a light pounding of rain hitting the roof above. It grounded her as she brushed back her curls and tried to force her lips to maintain a smile. The vanity lights cast a warm pink light over her face, yet all it did was showcase the contemplation etched into her brows.

Her parents would finally see her for the first time in almost a year of work—they'd be there to praise her and recognize her as their beloved project was spotlighted. The honor was cast equally between the whole ground CAPTURE team, all ready to show off their research and dedication to finding a cure for Rubigo Morbus X8. She'd been so excited about it when she first took on the project.

However, as she meticulously adjusted a cubic zirconia necklace, unrest ate at the edges of her thoughts and wrought itself through her twisted hands.

She tried to focus on the highlights of the program, a beautiful two-page planned outline that would reveal their work in obtaining the cure, the story of their success, the fieldwork, and even the political litigations that would ensue regarding the CDC's new stance on Rubidegomorbus X8, AKA the rust. A chill ran through her body as she traced her fingers over the pamphlet.

They said that Delilah was detained–where? She hadn't seen or heard anything about where they might be. There'd been zero words on where Delilah would be during the proceeding ceremony, if Delilah would be mentioned during it or just at the upcoming trial, whenever the said trial was occurring, and everything else. Just radio silence and the assurance that it would all be fine and to wait for the expo to start.

She wanted to see them at least one more time to properly apologize for how it ended and for not getting to say goodbye.

She stood up and tried to maintain a smile, but it faltered the second she got to the door. Where am I going? Unsure, she opened it and walked out. The remainder of her team was readying themselves in their own rooms, so the hallway was emptied as she walked through, but with their doors open, she could peek in and watch as they laughed, cleaned themselves up, and watched videos. She should have been doing that. She should have been laughing aimlessly at something viral or watching as an idiot got on the Dawn boxes and tried to scream at everyone about something ignorant.

"Hey, Anna–"

Coming out of an elevator, a man brightened with a smile. He had a drink in one hand and waved it at her, the glass glistening like glitter.

"You gotta check out this new Gopo drink! It's Summerberry Freeze and it tastes just like-"

She smiled curtly before cutting him off. "I gotta grab something," she said, then rushed into the elevator before it closed. He watched her with an odd expression as the doors shut.

Sighing, she fell back against the elevator. Usually, she'd never be rude to anyone, always trying to make time to talk to them.

She didn't have time.

Where was she running to?

She eyed the numbers on the elevator before choosing the lowest floor. That'd be the one with the most information in movies or shows. Whatever secret was hidden could be found there. In those shows the protagonist just happened upon information and no matter how convoluted everything was, no matter how little information was provided, everything ended up okay.

It was stupid–just like a child would think. Delilah would have laughed at her.

Her fingers paused on the board.

Floor 4 was for food and reception, and Floor 6 was for the event.

She pushed both of those as well.

As the elevator stopped at the next stop, three people got on. They all were carrying paperwork and one of them, an older woman, seemed to be struggling. Annabeth held out her hands and smiled.

"I can help," she said.

The woman grinned back and handed Annabeth half of her stack. It was all paper guides and information regarding the event. "Are you part of the art team?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," Annabeth said, hoping she was convincing.

The other two started to talk idly about how boring the set-up had been. The main events started in a few hours so they were still rushing to get everything updated, but apparently their boss had found a single typo on one of their itinerary pages and they had to reprint everything. Annabeth could only see the first page from the top of the stack but she recognized it as the same one that she had upstairs, but it was missing one of the events of the evening.

Choralium XE's unveiling was set for later in the night, around nine or so, but it'd been moved up to seven. The event prior was supposed to be their award recognition phase. It had been wiped entirely from the page as though it was never set to occur at all.

***

When Delilah awoke, the storm continued. Outside, the assault of rain and hail was music, creating a background to the pounding in their head that grew louder with each pulsating throb. The engine hummed, distant at first, before it grew louder, a pitch that reached a fever intensity as it drove. A muffled voice spoke from the front seat, hidden behind a large wall with only a tiny window gap, which allowed Delilah to see the two people in the front seat. It was Artx and Rosax, who appeared to be in deep conversation. Across from Delilah, Celicia sat with her legs criss-crossed underneath her.

An array of monitors and cameras adorned the back of the van alongside them. It had to be some mobile command center filled with screens and storage compartments full of unnamed black equipment. Celicia was fixing her wig in front of a hand-held mirror right in the center. She'd switched out from the sundress into a well-fitted suit. The AK sat across from her, safety off, easily accessible.

Delilah didn't want to make any sudden movements. Their head felt lighter–a hand ran over the spot where their hair used to be. It was shaved in a buzz cut, leaving enough that Delilah's fingers had something to grab as they tried to make sense of the changes. For the last four years, Delilah had grown out their hair to cover up the splotches of alopecia with something pretty.

It joined the list of grievances.

Beyond that, Broxton wasn't in the front or back of the vehicle with them.

"Oh, you're awake?" Celilcia grinned and held out a container of face wipes. "It's been almost a whole day."

Delilah watched as she held it out and didn't grab any.

"To each their own," she said. "So, bronze and bones, what was the plan back there? Fight Brox and win?"

"The plan was to get to Annabeth–is to get to Annabeth."

"Right, yeah, I know that part," she said. "But what I mean is, what was the plan? You had none. Hell, you just ran straight to us. I think you want someone else to make the plan for you. And luckily enough, we've got one. You can find out what Annabeth's about and we can finish our plan. All you need do is keep your dumb self away from ChorTek officials. Easy enough, right?"

Delilah wasn't sure what to say. Their head hurt too much for a plan to make sense. Hell, none of it had been making sense. One moment they were taking care of someone, and the next, they were running their ass off trying to keep Chortek and the RCPS from getting them. One moment, they were running, and the next...they were meeting people who knew far too much about Delilah and everything else.

One minute they tried to run, and the next, they woke up in a surveillance van barreling down the road in the middle of a goddamn monsoon.

"I didn't have a plan," Delilah admitted. "But that doesn't mean I can trust you."

"Can you trust them?"

***

It took a lot to clean up Delilah, but by the time the vehicle reached the gates of ChorTek Exporatorium, they were looking presentable. A box of hair dye kept the purple from standing out too much, and a suit covered most of Delilah's metal. Celicia even doused Delilah in cleaning spray and painted some dark shadows around the corner of Delilah's eyes to change the shape slightly.

"You almost look handsome," she mused. She giggled and held out a mirror for Delilah to review her handiwork.

Delilah tried not to grimace.

The worst part was the exposed face–Delilah hadn't gone without wearing their mask in years. The scarring on their cheeks, the holes where the screws went–it was all too disturbing. She placed a cloth mask, made of a dark sheer fabric and cauterized with rhinestones, over Delilah's face. It hid some but not enough. Delilah's dry, crusted lips were coated in a bright red lipstick. It almost looked like their lips were bleeding under the mask.

"See? A whole new man–sorry, wait, is it man?"

Delilah paused. That was something they'd never been asked.

"You were a boy just years ago. Now, you're trying hard to become a man."

"Get away from the android!"

"That thing calls itself Delilah."

"Lil Johnny, you're going to make something of this world one day."
"I," Delilah wanted to answer truthfully, but the words died in their throat. "I'm Delilah."

"Just Delilah?"

They nodded. She spared a kind smile and then opened the vehicle's door. "You might need to go by something else tonight, though."

"John?"

"If you want, or anything."

Delilah paused again, then went towards the vehicle's exit with her. They were outside in a full parking lot with a mixture of other reporters, all similarly dressed and with various cameras. Instead of the AK, Cecilia carried a large camera stick with a strap on her back and a screen that seemed to be playing everything she saw. They were pretending, of course, to be reporters to get inside.

Pretending.

Delilah hated pretending.

"You can call me Dee for right now, does that work?" Delilah closed the doors behind them and waited for the click to know the vehicle was locked. It clicked.

When they turned back around, Celicia, Rosax, and Artx all waited in their respective fits, their faces mixed with emotions that Delilah couldn't begin to recognize. The sun had come out from behind a mist of clouds, showing it to be some time past mid-day. Delilah had to have been knocked out for at least twelve hours.

"It works," Artx said. "And you're coming with me for this."

"Where's–"

"Broxie? Oh, he doesn't do functions," Celilcia said. "Don't worry, Artx has you. But don't think his being gone means you can try and run again."

"Sure."

Celicia reached out a hand and grasped Delilah's for a moment–three seconds that felt like an eternity.

"You've got this, Dee."

***

To state that the event was full of people would be an understatement. It was flooded inside, just like the crowded lines of people that waited at the front entrance going around a whole block. Delilah was anxious about waiting in line, but Artx stood completely confident, his body slightly swaggered to the side and his hands in his back pockets. Like Delilah, he had a mask of his own on, but it was plain black and wasn't sheer.

Most of the people in the crowd were dressed similarly. Bright, dazzling outfits, men and women alike in dresses and suits of dazzling colors, all wearing some type of facial protection that ranged from string covering to even full-fitted mouth masks akin to Delilah's. It was hard to stand in the crowd and pretend that Delilah was one of them. Their shoulder light at least was covered by the suit. The usual green spiral design was a bright red, and the closer Delilah got to the building, the more it vibrated, sending a hum straight through Delilah's bones.

It hurt in the same way that Delilah's skin hurt when the sun touched it too long–a burning sensation that was easily forgotten until it was all that one could focus on. The searing was tolerable, if only mildly so, and Delilah wanted to get out of the line and inside the building as fast as possible. Even if they weren't recognized, Delilah still knew what they looked like–

A tall, perhaps too tall, looming figure with broad shoulders, a permanent scowl that etched its way into the creases that'd formed over the years, that gripped their hands in fists and stared way too long and didn't smile when talking. One who hadn't shaved in a good too many days and had stubble forming a solid beard that even the mask couldn't hide.

A man who'd easily attack anyone who came near him.

Delilah wanted to relax their shoulders, try to smile, and do anything to keep their unwanted features out. They would be recognized by being themself. They wanted to be like Annabeth–someone who was encouraging but bland enough that she didn't stand out too much. An ordinary girl that no one would notice, even if she'd been watching for months before going through with her plan to steal Delilah's information. Someone that, if Delilah hadn't been watching, would sneak out of the forge for hours and only return when it was time to finish everything up.

Someone who was as forgettable as they could never be forgotten.

Artx, as loose as a goose next to Delilah's frigid figure, pushed them forward as the line continued. "Almost there," he murmured.

"It's taking way too long," Delilah hissed back.

Artx laughed. Ahead of them, a woman in a long skirt with a suitcase made her way inside. Artx handed Delilah an extremely thin, sharp piece of metal that was only half an inch long. It was a tracker, one that Delilah had seen many times before. All citizens were required to keep one at all times, most preferring to have it surgically placed inside their skin or wrapped into a device they'd never be without. It had no identification, no words or numbers, and something about it screamed that it was a fake.

"Make sure that they scan this. Keep it in your palm," he said, his voice low.

Delilah nodded and gripped it in their hands until it cut into the sides of the palms. A little blood came out and quickly sealed as rust against the metal.

Artx gave them a disgusted look but didn't seem to disapprove.

Ahead, the line moved inch by inch until the sun began setting and they finally reached the gate. A man scanned both of their trackers and ushered them forward.

"Deanna Jones and Archenad Jones, forward."

Delilah shot Artx a look, who shrugged. "Come on, Dee, that's us," he said. He playfully pushed Delilah forward. His grip and the weight behind his palms were anything but playful.

Once inside, it was like a game was playing that only Artx knew the rules to. He meandered through a crowd, grabbing Delilah by the tails of their suit jacket and dragging them like one might lead a child. They were like this, snaking their way through the conversation and people excitedly chattering about one or the other latest ChorTek invention that was being showcased. Something about a new hoverboard that met the highest standards of regulation, something about a superhighway being built to connect Idyll to the main city of Lakeland, about a hundred miles west.

Something about how good Delilah looked and how handsome Artx was, Artx pretending or perhaps being truthful about remembering people and how it was so good to see them again, and yes, this is his aunt, Dee. Yeah, it's really crazy, but it was her first time being in a public showing.

People congratulated Delilah on the haircut. Something about it being so Vogue that it crossed boundaries with Cunt and was too Cougie to be anything but.

The latest generation of slang was always too much for Delilah's taste, but they had to all be a mixture of ages, all speaking excitedly in a tongue only they seemed to understand. It was a Babylon Tower, and all Delilah could do was hold onto their sanity–and Artx's hand–and try to keep something close enough to a smile on their face. Shocked eyes, Delilah realized, seemed to be better than the normal squint. People seemed to react less harshly at least.

Artx pressed against his ear and then turned to Delilah after the latest group seemed to veer off into their own conversation. "Licia set us up," he said, pointing towards a staircase near the other side of the building. It was next to an elevator.

"What now?"

"Follow my–"

Before Artx could begin his way toward the door, a voice began speaking overhead, drawing everyone's attention.

Please see the nearest attendant. All guests must be verified.

Delilah was ready to ignore it until they saw several guards with extra thick suits on. They were prepared for a fight, and based on the weapon-sized bulges in the outfits, they were certain to do much more than standard verification.

A waiter approached them with two glasses of clear, bubbling liquid. "For the Jones'," he said, lowering the glasses enough so that Artx could reach his glass without issue.

They both took a glass, but Delilah didn't drink from it. Instead, he opted to watch as Artx gulped his down.

Please see the nearest attendant. All guests must be verified.

"You ordered drinks?"

Artx frowned, then shook his head. "Licia likely did. We should head-"

The waiter took Artx's glass and held his hand for Delilah to finish theirs. Delilah smiled as nicely as they could but just put the glass back on the board for the waiter to take.

"I'm not thirsty-"

"I must insist-"

"Dee," Artx hissed, motioning to the drink. "You're not on one of your diets again, are you? Just drink it."

The room was too loud. Too hot. The people, the pressure, the men with guns going person to person, the waiter's anxious face, Artx's frown, the lights–

The lights

flickered

off.

Please see the nearest attendant. All guests must be verified.

***

Annabeth helped set up the dining area with all of the itineraries before the lights in the building went off. Everything went quiet until she heard a humming noise from the overhead speakers on the floor. After a moment, all the other employees started to single-file up in a line to leave. She walked into line behind them, grabbing one of the boxes from cleanup to hide most of her outfit as she followed suit. They entered the stairwell,, and she could barely hear individual voices over the hushed whispers and incessant hum.

"They said we wouldn't have another-"

"Seriously, this is the fifth time this week-"

"Someone's gotta stop-"

"Choralium XE-"

She couldn't figure out who was saying what. She tried to turn and whisper to the person behind her, but they ignored her, who was already engrossed in a conversation. She put her head down towards the box and followed them down the stairs. After a moment, they all got off onto the main floor, where most of the guests and spotlight speakers were supposed to be waiting.

It was emptied, not a single soul in sight.

Annabeth held herself back on the stairwell, waited until the last people left, and then let the door close behind them. She walked up as though to head towards the floor ahead, then paused and descended until she reached the main lobby entrance to the building.

Before she opened the door, she could hear the loud sirens ring out.

Please see the nearest attendant. All guests must be verified.

As she opened it, two men rushed inside and grabbed her, bringing her out into the lobby. They held her arms clasped behind her back, and she didn't have time to struggle or to move away from them. She cursed under her breath but tried to regain her posture.

It was extremely dark and there was a crowd of people around her. The men brought her over to an edge of the room and then forcibly scanned her body until they reached her ID and it registered.

"Here," one of the men said, letting go of her arms. "Make sure you don't go into the security stairwell. Someone's in the building with a gun. Stay in your group."

Please see the nearest attendant. All guests must be verified.

***

Delilah ran through the crowd, getting as far away from Artx and the waiter as possible. The room was tilted on an ax, spinning wildly between the two sides, the only that that of the overhead emptied light holes where two red dots peeked out of every single spot. A thousand eyes in the darkness watching all.

Someone started shooting.

People were screaming, loud and enraged, voices all jumbled together.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.

A different voice was speaking–Rosax's. Strong, powerful.

It was barely heard over the uproar.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.
Delilah went for a security exit when suddenly they were face to face with Annabeth, their eyes meeting in a rushed frenzy.

"Anna-"

"Get down!"

A single gunshot.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.

***

Annabeth screamed as someone dropped dead in front of her, their body hitting the ground and blood pooling from underneath. The guards swarmed, voices shouting, everything a mess. A huge, bloodied–

Rusted

Rust covered

Mess.

The smell of rust and blood was overpowering. It coated the air and the back of her tongue in thick rivets.

Suddenly, the guards rushed again, grabbing the body, pushing Annabeth away. More shots ran out, and the guards dropped one by one.

Shots were flying in all directions. Screaming, loud, painful screams, and then the dead silence as a new body fell.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children. They are going to try and kill all of us. Make it out of here. Spread the word. Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.

The voice overhead replayed the same sentences repeatedly, a constant buzz, until it was the only sound in the area. Annabeth lay there, bodies smashed over top of her, holding the first one in her hands as sirens came. The building was on fire; she could see it from the distance. The smoke started to fill the room. Each copper-colored flicker spread almost as fast as the bullets flew. People ran outside, barreling past one another, trampling–Annabeth was stuck.

She couldn't move or do anything but scream, but no one heard her over the noise.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children. They are going to try and kill all of us. Make it out of here. Spread the word. Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.

***

Delilah's skin burned. The humming in their bones was louder than ever. There was weight over them–a person, more than one, all weighed down, on top of Delilah, stopping Delilah, too heavy too–

One person.

The dark had shifted–it was just light enough to see. Eyes against eyes in the dark. Blonde hair stained with blood and rust.

"Annabeth," they whispered.

The woman didn't respond. She was screaming–at least, Delilah thought she was. Her mouth was open. No sound came out at all.

"Annabeth," they whispered. It was hard to talk. Smoke filled the room.

Slowly, she looked down, her chest heaving. Wet splashed against Delilah's face. She was crying. Why was she crying?

"Annabeth," they said again. This time, it came with a burst of blood as they coughed it out. "Are you-"

"Oh god," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "Oh god. Oh god. Delilah? Delilah, that's-"

"It's me," they said. They tried to push, but there was too much on top of them. They couldn't move. More splashed against Delilah's face.

"Stop moving, don't, oh my god," she was flustered. Her hands reached out and grazed Delilah's hair, gently pressed against their scalp.

It was warm.

She was so, so warm.

"Help! Someone fucking help!" She was screaming this time, her voice cracking, spit spraying from her mouth. Delilah winced as more wet fell–this time hot, liquid, burning. It plastered over their body and started to steal over. Delilah couldn't move.

It wasn't her tears that hit Delilah.

It was blood.

Delilah's blood.

Delilah tried to reach Annabeth to let her know, but the rust seeped through their mouths and sealed them tight. Their bodies were hot—too hot.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children. They are going to try and kill all of us. Make it out of here. Spread the word. Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.

After all else, the voice from earlier sounded more like a threat than a warning.

Choralium XE is made off the blood of our children.

Slowly, Delilah fell back, letting their body rest as Annabeth continued to scream. Her voice was fading away.

The world was fading away.

Slowly, bit by bit, Delilah too understood why, at one point, everything succumbed to the earth.