Your time has come pt 4
Posted on Thu Feb 6th, 2025 @ 21:06 by Effigy & Phoebe Hunter & Ji-an Yun
Edited on on Thu Feb 6th, 2025 @ 22:35
Chapter:
Besieged
Location: Secret Underground Facility, Avalon Institute
Timeline: Late evening, Sunday, February 7th, 1993
2035 words - 4.1 OF Standard Post Measure
Previously in Your time has come
Effigy twisted the blade in her hand, hearing a crunch coming from the core of the man that now lay lifeless on top of her. Pushing him off she found herself back in the undercroft, a throbbing headache quickly fading away. She felt lost. Lonely. Frightened. Just like that first night her powers had manifested. She had seen what it had done to her sister, she didn't want to be like this. Where was she? She felt at the half mask covering her face, the cybernetic implants in her skull. Looked down at the man she had just killed. Why had she done that. "I'm sorry.." Then a flood of chemicals washed over her and the fear and loneliness was gone. Her purpose once more crystal clear in her mind. But the mission had been compromised. She had to extract, return to base.
Phoebe stood there in shock as her mind caught up with the realisation as the woman finally spoke and murmured an apology as if she had not just killed a man who was her friend in front of her when the stab was meant for her. She shakily pulled herself together ignoring the woman as she scuttled away. Phoebe would think about revenge later, she would never forget the woman's face.
"I am so sorry Cameron." She whispered stroking his cheek. "Why did you come back? You stupid herotic idoit." She sobbed feeling hot tears falling on her face as the realisation hit that Cameron Johnston was dead.
And now to keep reading...
Phoebe stayed like that for a long time mourning the man who had been larger than life and a constant pain in her ass always making her want to push him away and now she knew why and she had failed him. She closed his eyes slowly wishing she had more time to focus on him but she remembered why they had been originally down there - Ji-an. Shakily getting to her feet she started toward where the girl was behind hatches and deactivated the security. She was most likely going to scare the girl, beaten, bloodied and breathless but she at least needed to check and free her. "Ji-an?" She called holding her side, the pain starting to become apparent as adrenaline faded.
There was the faintest shift, a realignment of invisible pathways, as if the entire world clicked sideways into place. It wasn't any visible change, only the intangible sensation of presence that was only notably missing now that it was so obvious that it had returned. Inside the jet's cabin, sat calmly where she'd been told to remain, Ji-an's pale face peered over the backs of the seats in front and held Phoebe's gaze with wide-eyed, unblinking serenity. She was a quiet child, prone to emotional removal, and so the sudden introversion in the face of extreme danger was hardly a surprise, but it nevertheless seemed unnatural for a child so young to face any threat with the docile acceptance of one who didn't seem to know how to process fear.
Several seconds passed. It was only as she seemed to grasp the history teacher's grief, tangled amidst the pain of her own injuries, that Ji-an slid herself to the edge of her chair and rose. Movement through the cabin was swift and soundless, and the little girl drew close enough to be counter-framed by the open hatchway, an unlikely reflection for a broken woman struggling to remain in control.
"Mr. Johnston."
It wasn't a question. It was barely even a matter of linguistic inadequacy, though it was unlikely the girl had the capacity to phrase a direct query about the speedster's absence. For a moment, the sadness in Ji-an's eyes was ancient, tinged by the weariness of inevitability that only the presence of a precog could truly identify with. They don't know what she's capable of. That's partially the problem.
"Yes," Phoebe nodded and leaned across the doorway trying to order her thoughts and to make her body move. There was no denying what had happened when she stood there looking like she did and the man was not stood there at all. She glanced back at the way she had come and sighed. There was no way to get the girl past the body without her seeing it. She should have done something about that but she had not thought on anything other than checking on Ji-an.
And still, the placid façade didn't crumble. There was sympathy, however, a tired lament an entire lifetime in the making. Slowly, Ji-an nodded, confirming not so much her understanding but her prior awareness. Not for the first time, she spoke the words previously discredited as a child's foolish fancy. "I will help." This time, as the inevitable refusal formed, the little girl held out her hand and tried again. "I will help."
Skin-to-skin, the eddies churned. Swollen rivulets burst the banks, a torrent of scattered ribbons unfettered and left to tumble in the maelstrom. Reality converged before fragmenting, like droplets beneath the waterfall, an impossible jumble of indecipherable potential. And still, the water flowed.
Her skin was cold to touch.
I will help.
In the mindscape, the particles settled for the moment on the outline of a much older woman. She stood, grounded, as the wind blew around them, and then she was gone, the connection severed.
Ji-an quietly tucked her hands into her pockets.
Phoebe let out a small cry as her hand was taken in the much smaller one and instantly Phoebe realised her mistake as time washed over her. She saw too much and too soon and she fell to her knees and then onto her side lost in the visions. "Ji'an, go back in." Phoebe pleaded softly despite hearing the girl's statement.
There was a final hesitation as Ji-an watched the history teacher, an assessment perhaps of the woman's current condition, an alignment of priorities constructed as a row of bowling pins ripe for scattering. Triage rules dictated the injured ought to be assessed first and perhaps the young girl considered it. Just as likely, she processed the way Phoebe favoured one side as a perfect opportunity to duck forward suddenly and break into a run.
Phoebe gritted her teeth hard and pulled herself together and up to her feet and started after the girl trying to get rid of the remnants of her visions.When had such a small person got so incredibly quick or when had she got so weak? It had to be her, she had gotten slow from the fight and now it was catching up with her. She called the girls name again as she stopped against the wall holding her side.
Despite its secret nature, the undercroft was not so complex that orientation became an issue. There was little chance Ji-an had memorised the path back from the high-speed escape she'd been gifted earlier but the faint trail of blood might have been guidance enough. She certainly didn't slow down, and took full advantage of her head-start coupled with Phoebe's laboured movements. Though she ran at some speed for such little legs, there was purpose behind the determination in her eyes, the crumple of concentration that furrowed her brow adding years to features that had plenty to spare.
Ji-an slowed eventually, less of a reluctance than a pause for reverence. She had moved in relative silence and crept forward now with careful foot placement, each step calculated to land where it would cause the least disturbance. Death was a violent beast, the body stretched prone atop the remains of shattered masonry was somehow the most peaceful relic of the viciousness that had discarded it there. For a brief moment, the child was nothing more, pale and uncertain as she processed things a young mind wasn't supposed to comprehend.
Phoebe caught up and stopped dead taking in the scene clearer than she had moments before when she had left. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be looking.” Phoebe said gently trying to inch closer but every movement was like walking through molasses that she had not experienced before. Just what was this girls powers that was making everything about her body react and telling her to back off again or she was going to full into the river of time and never come out again?
A final crunch of debris was careless of repercussion, tentative placement of bare feet suddenly heedless of any damage caused to the tender skin. He was close enough now that she could touch him if she chose but Ji-an lingered, her features distorted by unhappy sullenness that took only a moment to descend into palpable anger. At her sides, tiny hands balled into fists, and the scowl beneath narrowed eyes added ferocity to the shimmer of hot moisture glistening against her eyelids.
From behind, Phoebe's lamentation registered, halted instantly by the fling of a silencing hand, palm-up, in her direction. Stop.
And everything did.
It was peaceful, in the space between heartbeats. Papa had often chastised her for evoking it as an avoidance strategy but his eyes had always sparkled as he'd scribbled a fresh lot of notes into his workbook and ruffled her hair before leaving her to it. He had never made her promise not to, in any case, which, when interpreted amidst the warnings he was more insistent about, practically counted as encouragement. There had never been a lot of use for it, of course, one day had rolled into the other without a lot of opportunities for spontaneity, but she liked it nonetheless. It wasn't as lonely as Papa's friends liked to speculate. The thrum of infinite possibility left a lot to explore.
It was different to how the man stretched out at her feet described his experience. She had never given much thought to the class's tendency to ask questions that encouraged storytelling over actual instruction, but that particular response had earned her focus. Perception was an oddly arbitrary notion and moving fast enough that the general pace of the world gave the impression it had almost ground to halt was certainly reminiscent of the current situation from a certain sensory perspective. The man they called Dash had trajectory, however, momentum and motion in linear pathways that followed only one persistent pathway forward. In this place, the threads criss-crossed, intersected and dispersed. If she wanted, the way forward could be...
"앞으로 나아갈 길은 선택되지 않았습니다"
The way forward is not chosen.
"시계는 거꾸로 감을 수 없다"
A clock cannot wind backwards.
"물은 자유롭게 흐른다"
The water flows freely.
"전망이 맑아요"
The view is clear.
...this way.
Papa wouldn't like it.
Kneeling slowly, Ji-an reached out her free hand and took hold of dusty, cold fingers.
The water flowed.
From a crouched position, the little girl turned her head to stare back at the woman frozen in mid-protest. There was fear now, uncertainty replacing anger, as the slightest quiver of lips sought hesitation. Eons passed and fortitude returned. She had promised, after all.
"I will help."
Ji-an glanced back down.
"The view is clear."
Phoebe fell to her knees and then fell forward as she felt the sensation grow stronger and stronger, the seconds ticking away in her head. Clarity was not coming to her there and then and she could not understand why, even as the sensation left her and she was lying on the floor. Finally able to hear the alarms blazing, very much alone in the corridor, no Ji-an and no Cameron as she closed her eyes. She had not seen this, why had she not seen this? When everything was leading there, why had she not seen it? Why had she not seen the girl? The masked woman? Her friend's death? And even now as she blinked and she was alone, lying on the floor, blood and debris everywhere. Why had she not seen any of this to prevent it?
