Chapter Text
Rain pours down onto the concrete and gathers into puddles, harsh boots and rushed breath break what melody the weather conducts. I feel warmth pour out my guts as the ever-constant reminder of ground tells me I’m laying on it, I’m completely soaked through and through as my senses start to wake up and unravel, starting out as a numb mess and moving forwards into reality.
The floor has a way of sticking to me, like the proverbial chewing gum planted cruelly into someone’s hair, just to make their day worse. My sight remains a pitch black whether or not my eyes are truly open, but my hearing goes from the sounds of a radio with a malfunctioning antenna, into something resembling shouts and screams, gunfire and a dog’s breath, howling and growling, something unhuman-like patrolling my personal space.
My eyes finally catch up to what I’m hearing, starting from my peripherals and moving inwards, and the world reveals its most unsettling piece, a giant, black, wolf-like creature staring me down possibly a couple of inches away from my face, with white protrusions in place of its claws, bony armour sits atop of its head and rows of spikes run down its spine... This is one hell of a dream.
The creature slowly closes the distance and nudges me with its snout, as I suddenly hear inside my head [HOSTAWAKEHOSTALIVEHOSTMOVING] … This… this has to be some sort of fucked up dream, isn’t it?
I close my eyes for a second, draw in the cold air, and let it out in a sigh before opening my eyes again.
[HOSTMOVENOWHOSTGOHOSTRUN] Is another string of words that shout relentlessly inside my mind, God I hope this doesn’t give me a migraine, can you even get migraines in dreams? Whatever, time to explore what fucked up conundrum my inner self has cooked for me.
I use whatever strength my dream allows me to have in order to reach out to this wolf thing. My hand connects and it feels fluffy and wet, with the white parts feeling like they were recently flattened using sandpaper, but then the person gave up midway while smoothing them down with wet-and-dry. The wolf-thing leans into it, letting me scratch it while it makes this low and deep whining sound.
Using my other free hand, I start to sit up as two sharp pains in my chest twist what sense of calm I had left, pulling my hand away from the wolf-thing in that moment. I put a hand to my chest and feel of two divots around the left side of my chest, and two hard, almost metallic feeling… bullets, those are bullets...
I got shot in my dream?
I hear police sirens go off in the distance which makes me look down the alleyway I was laying in, showing me three piles of gore, viscera, and clothes. Okay, a bit sickening, inner-me. I turn back to the wolf-thing, now looking at me expectantly, and see drips of blood in its maw and claws, watered down by the rain until they’re almost impossible to see.
Right, I’d rather not get caught by the dream police and have to explain whatever the fuck’s going on here, so I start getting onto my feet, stumbling a bit as my sense of balance is still trying to figure out which way is down. The wolf-thing is practically gluing itself to me, leaning against me and making it much harder than it should be to stand up.
[HOST STABLE. HOST CAPABLE OF- Shhhh, just, please, stop shouting, you’re doing my head in right now. [Apology] That’s alright, now, what did you want to say?
[Host stable. Host capable of retreat.] Don’t suppose I was meant to retreat from those three back there? [Correct.] Okay, and what about this wolf-thing? [Help. Aid. Save Host.]
Uh huh, yep, makes total sense. Actually, let’s just stop for now. The sirens are getting louder, and I’d rather not be here for any longer than I need to be. Using the wolf-thing as support, I limp down the alley as my mind-to-muscle connections slowly rise from their sleep.
//-\\ //\\//\\
My feet guide me through the empty and ill-lit streets of… the Docks? That doesn’t feel right, my hometown didn’t have docks… Why does that name feel familiar?
Before I even begin to figure that thought out, I almost stumble into something. Stopping right next to a group, I look up to see five men standing outside a shop, wearing masks and wielding bats, pipes, and nailed 2-by-4’s.
Right… Not suspicious at all.
I guide my wolf behind them since it doesn’t seem like they’ve noticed us yet. As I do so, one of them sighs and smashes a window, shouting something in another language as others join in, cracking windows and trying to kick in the door.
This doesn’t feel real- wait no, I’m right. This isn’t real. Can’t believe I almost forgot that this is just some weird ass dream. Actually, might as well treat it as one.
Looking at the group, I take a moment to decide what to do. They laugh while swinging their weapons, hide behind masks with vaguely asian designs, a man turns back and looks around, missing me despite being the only other person in the streets right about now. Yeah, I’m overthinking this, just… Wolf time?
Wolf time.
I look down to my wolf, and it looks up with hunger in its non-existent eyes. I stop leaning against it and give a single nod, which was all that it needed to go off and charge the five men. I sit down on the wet curb as I watch the group get literally torn limb from limb, the rain drowning out their shouts and screams, with the only legible sounding word I hear being “Cape”. Whatever that means.
I take this opportune moment of bloodshed and carnage to return to my original thought, what does the Docks have to do with me?
The Docks… Docks… Brockton? Like the… Oh! A Worm dream, neat. That solves that mystery. Now to figure out how weird this dream can get if it’s based on that.
Hang on a moment, oi! Voice in my head, you still there? [Correct.]
Cool, just to confirm, you’re my shard and you give me powers to do stuff, right? [Correct.]
Right. So, for starters, what powers do I have, or do I have to find out? [Prevention of Host death. Changing of Host area. Hiding of Host presence. Manipulating of Host kind.]
Alright, makes sense. So, I’m a grab-bag cape with Brute, Shaker, Stranger, and Master powers. Actually, maybe not shaker, that’s a bit too vague. I’m guessing you’re not going to explain it further? [Correct. Experiment. Testing. Research. Data.]
Gotcha, time to fuck about and find out. [Correction: Host Preservation Priority.]
… Okay?
A blood-soaked snout nudges me, snapping me out of my conversation with my mental roommate. I look up to piles of gore where men once stood, their perpetrator sitting satisfied and proud in front of me. Blood that covers the pavement, walls, and wolf, getting watered down by the rain, with some of it puddling where it doesn’t flow into a nearby drain. I reach up and give the wolf a scritch behind its ears, “Good boy.” I say, as it once again leans into my hand.
Alright, let’s get home, I’m starting to actually freeze in this rain.
//-\\ //\\//\\
This is possibly the dingiest looking apartment I’ve ever seen, and yet it feels like I’ve lived here. There must be something wrong with my head if this feels familiar [Incorrect: Host Mind Untouched.] Gee, thanks…
I push open the handle-less door and walk inside, the rain gets muffled by the walls as it fades into the background. My wolf and I start shaking off excess water as we soak the floor and walls, my feet continue to guide me as I continue its path up the stairs. Instinctively, I tap my pocket to see if I still have the key.
… That’s not- what is this dream doing to me?
My feet continue to walk up the steps, my wolf follows behind me, as my hands trace the walls and rusted railings I swear I have no recollection of. Nevertheless, my mind presents it as if I’ve taken these steps thousands of times, my hands connecting with the walls and railings. This path has no reason to be familiar, to act as if it was muscle memory. It’s more like…
Like a distorted memory.
I eventually stop walking up the steps and head down a dimly lit corridor with doors lining the sides. My feet plant me in front of the 8th door to my right, door 18. Once again, my hand is drawn to my pocket as I pull out a key. My hands tremble and my heart quickly picks up in pace, feeling like a pair of beating hearts instead of one.
I take a deep breath, place my hand onto the door handle, unlock the door, and breathe out. I hear a voice from the other side, “Cassidy?” A lump in my throat forms as my attempts to control my body fail. Guilt. Fear and guilt.
Why… Why do I feel this way?
I hear footsteps approaching the door, my body freezes up and keeps me in place, disregarding how I feel about this situation, and the door opens. A middle-aged woman opens the door for me, her hair’s long and dark brown, bloodshot eyes with a dark grey colouring and bags underneath, showcasing hours of well needed sleep.
She looks straight at me- no, it’s more like straight through me, and I feel the need to say something. But then she pokes her head out the door, looks left, then right, and with a saddened expression, she sighs and closes the door, locking it in the process.
I’m left standing there, frozen, a single word hanging onto my lips finally drops, “Mum?”
… There’s something actually wrong with me.
[Incorrect: Host- okay enough of that. I don’t mean as in you’ve changed something ‘Shard’, what I mean is-
[Correction: Mosaic.] Mosaic? That’s your name?
[Correct.] Okay. What I mean Mosaic, is that I shouldn’t be suddenly forced into autopilot and start remembering things that haven’t happened to me.
[Query: Dream state?] Yes, this is some weird ass lucid dream about some story I read. What else could this be?
[Hypothesis: Current status {DREAMING}. Test: Monitor area stability.] I guess I could… check a clock? Sure, yeah, I’ll go look for a clock and, in the meantime, pretend that all of this could be real. It doesn’t feel real, but sure, I’ll take a whack at it.
Alright, so the dream wants me to think that person is my mother, people for some reason don’t register my existence but still react to my actions, and I have this bone wolf that’s – I turn to my right – still here.
If I had to guess, there’s probably a clock inside the apartment. My apartment I should say. I’ll use that to prove the hypothesis and just see where it takes me.
Once again, I unlock the door, but this time I open it quickly and head inside equally as fast. My mum, suddenly terrified by this, shoots from her chair next to the table and speed walks to the door, looking left, then right, and closing and locking the door like last time.
Looking at the kitchen counter there’s a digital clock; I pick it up and see that it’s currently 11:42 pm.
It’s not… Distorted, or being weird in any way… I don’t like what that implies here.
[Hypothesis concluded: Current status {AWAKE}.] I really don’t want to believe that, I really don’t.
I turn to my mother who has her head on the table with her arms behind her head, her leg bouncing up and down as I can hear her unsteady breathing. On the table lies her phone and a picture frame.
Moving close brings the picture into view. I see a young girl with brown eyes and short brown hair being carried by her mother- my mother, and a man, probably my father. They’re all together, the man having dark brown hair and brown eyes, just like the girl in the picture.
Just like me.
I don’t like this…
I don’t like this at all…
My heart seems to agree with me, as it feels like it’s trying to escape my chest right now.
Mosaic? [Awaiting query.] What if you were right, what if I’m not dreaming?
The Shard takes a moment before relaying its answer, [Continued host preservation. Quote: “time to fuck about and find out”. Continue data collection.]
A puff exits my nose as a small smile creeps onto my face. Of course you would, you Shard.
You know what? I’m not even going to ask how we’re able to talk right now. Just, this whole time my mum still hasn’t noticed I’m here yet, nor has she taken notice of the wolf. What’s with that?
[Hiding of Host presence. Power in progress.] So I’ve noticed, can you turn it off?
[Correct. Counter argument: Host action.] A shard with a sense of humour, funny. I sigh, time to ‘fuck about and find out’ then.
I close my eyes and reach into the metaphorical spaces of my mind, thinking about becoming visible to others. As I do so, I feel something else, I feel a lot of things. Why do my hands feel like metal strings right now?
Upon opening my eyes, I see strands of silver wire sticking out my hands, along with a slow emission of white fog and black tar dripping from my fingertips. Wait a moment, that’s the same stuff I was stuck to when I first woke up, holy shit. Actually wait, why is this even a power?
The fuck am I, a walking OSHA violation?
Actually, I think I get it now, I can move the strings around like it were a part of my body, being as sharp as piano wire. The fog spreads out around me, the people in it don’t know they’re in it until they’re completely engulfed, while that happens, they get progressively more and more tired. The black pools hide creatures inside it, creatures who I can shape to my desire, all I need is a big enough pool, some time, and enough elbow grease and I’ll create another creature like the wolf.
I can feel plenty more in my headspace, other things that I can do, more…
Oh god, it’s like the staircase again where I just know shit that I really shouldn’t.
With a single thought, the tar stops dripping and the existing pools start breaking down into nothing, the wires coil back, and the fog dissipates. Nifty. I take a step and suddenly my mother turns to face me, eyes wide, she stares right at me. Not through me this time.
Wanting to break this awkward silence, I speak first, “Can you see me now?” And out comes a more feminine voice than I thought. So I am a girl, this is going to be strange getting used to.
She bolts up out from her chair and goes in for a hug. Her arms reach around me as she pulls me close, making a squelch sound in the process. Oh, she’s surprisingly war- oh, fuck I forgot I’m soaking wet right now. God dammit.
As we’re hugging, completely ignoring the fact that we’re both drenched, my mind starts to… wander a bit, taking a trip down memory lane of the person I’m supposed to be. A name here, a place there, it’s all strewn about. All before my mind start falling in on itself, drifting so far as to blacken my sight.
I remember her. I remember her with him. And I remember her without him.
I remember being with her when the bullets fell like rain, where my father, her husband, died. The ambulance, as fast as it was, never got to him in time, leaving him to bleed out on the wet, blood-soaked, concrete.
Much like how I almost lost my own life.
…
Oh god, this… this is real.