That’s great, Miss Mirage. I wanted to ask you about the spoken lines next. This is the first time you’ve ever incorporated vocals into your works, yes?
Mirage: Yes, I’ve never mixed vocals before… it’s a bit of a pain. V2—she’s done some audio engineering before—she helped.
Fans have been struggling to transcribe the more distorted vocals in the middle. Is it ‘And I’m here’ or ‘Or I’m here’?
Mirage: Honestly you’re asking the wrong person. V2 just whispered into a mic and I put the entire audio there, unedited. Adds a degree of authenticity, if that’s what you want to believe.
Woah. Uh. The entire monologue talking about God, it was yours, correct? It’s made many a listener cry, or so I’ve heard.
Mirage: You’re also asking the wrong person. I’ve never been religious. All I’m saying is that it’s one of our other members. Maybe he’ll give you an interview, but not right now.
…But it means a lot to him, and I’m glad it means a lot to everyone else as well.
And the line near the end?
Mirage: Hm?
The one that sounds like sobbing? ‘Just not here, I’m scared’?
Mirage: That’s not what it says.
But this is the clearest line we have.
Mirage: … I
don’t want to talk about that.
… yeah, it’s my voice. I just… I thought fewer people would catch on.
I don’t like being seen.
~~~
Watching an angel fight is mesmerising.
V1 had fought him before, but then most of its processing power was used on pure, pinpointed focus—dodging, parrying, exploiting every window of opportunity to win. That was what it was made for, and that it excelled at.
Now, watching iridescent feathers drift to the ground as he moves in a whirlwind of blades and light, V1 carefully makes a note to store the footage next to where it stores pictures of the interiors of the church, the sights of the defunct Earthmover, and paintings.
Sisyphus, topless and armed with nothing but his bare hands, misses his blow but recovers quickly, head turning in Gabriel’s direction as he brakes mid-air and swoops down again. V1 resists the urge to leap to its feet, draw its own weapons and shove Sisyphus to the side so it can have Gabriel’s attention all to itself again—Gabriel needs this.
Damn his need for justice and absolution. But V1 lets him have this. Something is whirring deep inside of it and it isn’t its fans. It leans back, watches Gabriel eat shit and crash to the ground as Sisyphus tackles him, and begins to think.
Efficient. Get this out of the way first.
Is he a friend to it? It isn’t sure. It’s only ever wanted to watch him squirm, taunting him and drawing out the anger he has bottled up. He’s entertaining. So many psychological issues. So many interesting parts to clamp down on and pinch.
V1 blocks out the sound of Gabriel slamming the hilt of his sword against Sisyphus’s arm, swearing as he gets suplexed and thrown, landing with a painful crunch against the wall of the church. Sisyphus cracks his knuckles, chuckling.
‘Is this the best Heaven can offer?’
‘This isn’t over,’ Gabriel gasps out. He looks to V1 helplessly. It shrugs as Sisyphus walks slowly to him.
It cannot ignore the sound of carnage anymore as a second awful crunching noise reaches its audio processors. Gabriel yelps, still looking at V1. V1 signs, ‘Just yield.’
‘No way,’ wheezes Gabriel. ‘Victory is still in sight—AGH!’
Sisyphus loosens his grip on Gabriel’s shoulders. ‘Face it, angel.’ The last word sends V1 bristling for reasons it cannot name. The man laughs at Gabriel’s futile attempts to escape. ‘You’ve lost.’
Gabriel swears under his breath but goes still.
‘Fine. Next time—’
‘Oh? Masochistic, aren’t you?’ Sisyphus releases his grip just as V1 goes to stand right next to him. ‘Hm?’
V1 signs to Gabriel, who translates, ‘It wants to check on me.’
Sisyphus gets up, groaning from the effort. His muscles ripple in the fading noon sun as he crosses his arms, grinning widely.
‘Consider this score settled.’ He holds out a hand. Gabriel, leaning against V1, takes it after a moment of hesitation. ‘Remember this day, angel. Your power no longer has any hold over me. Over us.’
Gabriel inhales sharply but dismisses the thought at the last moment. ‘Very well.’
‘Try anything funny, and I will gladly wash my floors with your blood.’
V1 signs, and Gabriel translates, ‘V1 says it’ll get to… it’ll get to me before you can.’
Sisyphus laughs, and V1’s shoulders tremble in an imitation of humour. Gabriel sighs, flapping his wings to keep himself upright.
‘Let’s get you cleaned up.’
~~~
The bathroom in the church is mostly clean, if rarely used. Gabriel wipes a thin layer of dust off the sink before going for the straps of his cuirass.
‘You’ve ruined two of my bodysuits,’ he starts. The armour he places carefully over the sink, followed by his pauldrons. V1 watches from a stall, perched atop a toilet seat.
‘Your fault,’ it signs back. Gabriel shoots it a look. The blood coating his skin is already drying, red on gold on black. Some of the shallower cuts are already healing, though he still flinches when he has to undo the bindings around his chest. He shakes his head disapprovingly at the blood-stained cloth.
V1 leaps from its perch and places its hands on his still-bleeding upper arms. His blood soaks into its plating and it shudders from the sensation.
‘Watch where you place your hands—ow.’ Gabriel shudders when its fingers graze the bruise spanning the entirety of his collarbones. V1 digs its fingers in deeper, only to hear his breath stutter.
‘Machine, I must admit.’ He lets it trace his sternum, finding new bruises peppering his ribcage. The angel’s wings twitch once and he continues, ‘This loss only brings me relief.’
V1 presses down on the still-bleeding scratches on his abdomen.
‘This proves my losing to you was not a fluke,’ he says. ‘The Council’s authority, my strength—none of it is infallible. I have simply met my match.’
‘Do not misunderstand me. I still wish for a rematch.’ He hangs the bloodstained bindings on a nearby sink and presses down on his exposed shoulder, wincing as he does so.
‘You’ll keep losing.’
‘I want the struggle.’ He sounds quiet as he looks into the mirror. ‘Give me the chance to earn a victory, for once.’
Gabriel rolls his shoulders, relaxed. V1 observes as he re-binds his chest after assessing his wounds. He’s gained some weight, it realises, no longer under the strain of divine punishment and guilt. Does he even need to eat?
It goes to ask him, but what comes out is, ‘How’s freedom treating you?’
‘Freedom? You speak of a concept too nebulous to be debated. However, if you are just referring to the Council—I intend to utilise it to the fullest.’
‘Elaborate.’
He reaches for his cuirass. ‘I will enact justice. True justice. Not their self-serving hypocrisy.’
‘Ambitious.’
It doesn’t like the way its processor stutters when it watches him slide his armour back on, a series of satisfying clicks following. He fixes on the last pauldron and stands where he is, staring into the mirror. V1 stands slightly behind him in the reflection, a full head shorter.
It wants to spill his blood again, splatter it over the dusty sinks and unused floors. Wants to tear open his ribs and poke at his heart. Wants to be inside him, in more ways than one.
But it does not wish to hurt him.
The contradiction sends its fans spinning faster. Gabriel is looking at it now, completely unreadable, resting a hand on the hilts of his swords.
‘V1?’
Gabriel’s phone buzzes from where it is stored in its wings, saving it from needing to scrounge up an explanation. It quickly dismisses the first thirty spam email notifications before landing on a new message from V2.
V2: Got to codebreaking. He really doesn’t want to be found
[V2 has sent an attachment.]
Gabriel and V1 exchange glances.
‘Just rip the bandaid off.’ It hands him the phone.
Gabriel audibly swallows and taps on the screen.
~~~
Notes (by V2): Caesarean ciphers! Base 64! This guy went all in on the encoding. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to want to leave any trace of himself online because I could think of more ways to make this even more of a mind-stirrer. But anyway here’s the Ferryman’s fully decoded message. I expect to be paid for the effort that went into this.
I’ve kept the formatting of the original, punctuation be damned. I’m sure this means something to you. Mirage sends her blessings.
Without further ado:
botb 2105 21:00
~~~
Gabriel looks up from the screen. Peering over his shoulder to read the message, V1 shrugs.
Gabriel shakes his phone gently, as if expecting some hidden secret to slide out.
‘Surely there must be more,’ he says, panic creeping up his voice. V1 gets his attention with a snap of its fingers.
‘Focus. Let’s work with what we have. Zero two zero six. Is that a date?’
‘February…no, that is impossible. Twenty-one… then it must be in May.’
‘Twenty-first of May. The letters?’
‘Bot-b. Some sort of electrical component—‘
‘Get your head in the game. It’s an acronym.’ V1 feels the temperature in its chassis rise as it thinks. ‘It’s written next to a date. Does it indicate location, then?’
‘What place do we know…’ Gabriel stops in place. ‘B… Belly of the Beast.’
Gabriel sighs, the tension leaving his shoulders. ‘In three days. Nine p.m.’
‘Write him a reply, tell him you’re going,’ V1 suggests. ‘And in case we’re wrong he can send us an even more obvious hint.’
Hands shaking, Gabriel types out the message. V1 pretends to study a crack in the mirror as he sends it and immediately leans against the sinks, breathing heavily, only to jump when his phone pings again. He smooths down the crumpled feathers of his wings and looks at the screen again.
‘He’s—he replied.’
The newest message is simple.
See you soon.
i'm like if doctor house was a girl
found a cool new album called erynias by predawka. cool shit. i'm going to start using the amen break again because drum parts are too hard to write for someone who does not play drums
also massive wrist cramps in the month before piano exams what joy! hopefully i'll get better in time. picking up my antidepressants soon