The Curse Of Hope
_
Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.
The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.
“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”
That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.
Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.
“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.
The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.
“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”
Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.
The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”
Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.
-Or-
Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.
Luckily, Danny can provide that help.
But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.
414 notes
·
View notes
COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.
PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.
ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.
PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.
ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.
Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.
[Try to sit up.]
ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.
…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.
YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!
PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.
PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.
The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.
+1 MORALE
Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!
Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.
I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]
INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.
But…
YOU — But?!
INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.
PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.
YOU — [Pull out the photo.]
MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.
You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.
INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…
MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…
It’s a great photo.
EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…
KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”
COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.
HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.
“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”
“God, Kim, you scared me…”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.
“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”
“Like death.”
“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”
“Okay, I guess. Tired.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”
He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.
EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.
“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”
“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”
“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”
HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.
“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”
“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”
“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.
COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.
KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”
INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…
“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]
“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]
KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”
“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.
INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…
KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.
“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”
EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.
“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”
“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”
“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”
“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”
“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”
“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”
“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”
KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.
EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.
“What else did the phasmid say?”
YOU — “A lot of things.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”
EMPATHY — He means it.
YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”
“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”
“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”
“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”
“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.
KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.
EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.
YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”
INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.
“I guess so,” he says softly.
VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.
463 notes
·
View notes