Máni

"Are you somehow hurt, Dottore?" He asked, facing the air as if there was a person in front of him. A scoff followed, blue and red particles appearing out of nowhere. A bizarre thing to see to a normal person. "Me? Hurt? How laughable."

All Pantalone can do was shrug, eyes closed and with his signature banker smile. Ah, his colleague is still prideful and stubborn despite his situation being a Data in Irminsul. But he still has time to settle a matter himself. "I'm just concerned that's all."

"...How have you been keeping?"

He chuckled in response, "How have I been keeping? You say?" Crossing his legs and leaning back with elegance, his gloved hands intertwined with ease. Purple gem rings glinted as if they were mocking. "I should be the one asking you that."

He could imagine the other man frowning, being thrown back his own question instead. All the pride, intelligence and experiments, behind all that, there's a single thing that hasn't been addressed. Pantalone tends to do it now before it's too late. After all, he is a person who honors another agreement.

"..."

"Don't go silent on me now. You know what I'm talking about." Oh how Pantalone wished to say it with contempt, however, it would be too obvious. Too early for showing a grudge.

"..."

The silence stretched felt like an eternity. Omega couldn't help but stood still on the platform inside the depths of Irminsul. This conversation is going astray, he quietly regret asking Pantalone about his wellbeing. In this situation, If he were to ignore this, the latter would've definitely won't fulfill his tasks completely.

With a defeated sigh, his dull purple eyes had already opened. Pantalone already expected this outcome, quite disappointed knowing that this segment is the lone and selfish survivor that wouldn't budge. Of course, he is that selfish enough to bury the past into the void and forget that it even existed. Then, a low tone of a growl only Pantalone could hear.

"Miserable."

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

"Yes. And we're all waiting for you."

Zandik could not help but laugh in disbelief. This foolish world and these segments... Maybe he had not expected this outcome, several eyes that are exactly like his are just gazing down at his pitiful self. After all, knowing himself, he is too prideful to get help from others. Why would they do that?

"Hah– waiting for me to die?"

'What a foolish bunch of crows, indeed.' He instantly thought. But what was the term again? It was something like... Wait– Zandik saw how Omega smile with his gloved hand coming towards his face. His dull eyes shaking with instinctive fear, the first time he felt since decades.

Closer and closer. His eyes reflected the gloves until he was unable to see. All he could see was pure darkness, a void, the nothingness. Something he loathe since birth.

The last moment in Zandik's life was Omega laughing with no remorse.

Ah, 'Murder.'

.....

....

...

..

.

Zandik is no longer in this world.

"Zandik!"

Before Omega could look up, he was pushed away and fell down on the sterile tiled floor. Shock and disbelief written on his face, as well as other segments nearby. What just happened? Why didn't he and others notice your presence right away?

"Zandik!" You shouted again towards the Main, carefully nudging his cold and wrinkled hand. You wanted to deny, that he just passed out from exhaustion. But no, it was cruel to see Omega had just killed the Original. At the exact moment you entered.

"Dear, we tried to resuscitate–" Omega said while standing up but he was cut off by a harsh slap of yours. It echoed throughout the laboratory, the silence felt worse as others stared at you, bewildered by your action.

Then, in an instant, he saw red.

"Ack-!"

You were already on the floor, struggling as his hands wrapped around your throat with such force. Squeezing as you desperately gasp for air. You tried to claw his hands but it was futile when he was wearing modified gloves. Suitable for such situations like this. The back of your head hurts so bad due to the fall impact.

Feeling something pooling behind your head, you were totally sure you weren't gonna make it. Ridiculous, you wanted to laugh. Is this really your fate? To be killed by the hands of his selfish segment? Maybe, Karma caught up to you.

You could've saved Zandik if you weren't so distracted by something. Then here's the result of your ignorance.

You felt your life slipping away.

With all your strength left, you reach out to hold his mask. Other segments tried to pull Omega away after sensing your fading life but he was too strong and too absorbed to realize what he was doing. With a smile, you let your vision activate, as well as something you kept to yourself since the day you were born. Cold permeates the air as the frost covers the entire laboratory. Something sinister began to emerge from your touch.

Segments' legs now chained with Ice, not letting them move freely as they felt the biting cold temperature through the fabric. As similar as Snezhnaya's winter storm, something not their system and synthetic flesh can endure.

Finally, you begin to chant, the cold wind carries your voice all around the room, equally as carrying your will, "May you all suffer under my embrace of terror. Wither in fear and be in agonizing pain.",

A curse.

"For all eternity."

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Gasp!

Omega woke up drenched in sweat, gasping for air as he clutched his chest. Right where his synthetic heart beat wildly. How foolish. The nth time he's experiencing terrible nightmares after the... Incident. Unable him to recharge to full extent. Even others experience the same thing, complaining and 6.7777% inefficient to their tasks. Beyond the acceptable percentage.

He couldn't find the better solution after trying the erasure method or any type of medicine to cure or at least lessen. By day, something would whisper in their ears, appearing and disappearing. 25 flinched when he heard a whisper during an experiment and caused a failed result, leading to creating another request for another batch of materials to the banker. By night, hearing footsteps or a hum when no one was present in the area. 65 kept looking behind his back anxiously after hearing someone singing and even giggling as it came closer and closer until he tripped.

18 and 45 became agitated, turning heated arguments to breaking everying within the reach while being each other's throat. Vials spilled, ruin guards beyond repair, hurting everyone in their vicinity. 8 couldn't continue his aranara research anymore.

It all because of your curse. A parasite that couldn't be removed.

Out of all the segments that are willing to love you, giving you what you wanted. Yet you chose to love the Main, the one who's human and aged. Wrinkly and out of his prime. Why him when they can offer you everything without them aging? Why him when he killed his creator? Why still him when you weakly hold that wretched cold hand of their creator while being strangled. Why not giving them more love and attention than him? Why, why, why, why,

Why?

"WHY?!"

Pantalone look up to see Omega had his fists on the table, creating a ruckus on the confections and tea sets. He almost thought he was angry about the choice of sweets, but no, this is more than that. His purple eyes gleam over his agitated expression as Omega would stare at the vacant seat between them.

'he could not replicate that moment.'

He sips his tea with a calm expression as he quietly observed. Omega wasn't he used to be, a calm and all-knowing segment. Very much different than the others. But now, he looks rather much human. It doesn't affect much on duties, it more of a... internal problem. Yes. What a mess, he thought.

'A mess he created, indeed.'

But he knew. Of course he does. Pantalone witnessed the incident back then. Behind those metal doors leading the laboratory, through the gaps, he saw who Omega killed. His closed eyes wasn't closed anymore as his signature smile fell. Eyes shaking as he saw your lifeless body beside the Main, the laboratory was covered in ice. Evident that it came from your vision.

He knew you well since you were introduced by Zandik. Quite a genius and knew about accountancy as well, a gem discovered. Pantalone and you clicked instantly, becoming friends that would do friendly debates and sharing views towards certain things. Even as creating a private tea party for just the three of you. Him, you and Zandik. You would even offer to create your own confections, high quality and beyond what every best confectioners can do. Even Zandik denied that he ate almost everything you put on the three tiered stand.

Yet something doesn't feel right at that time. He sworn he felt a stare behind them, so he looked back and saw one of Zandik's segment behind the door of the glasshouse where the three of them was present. It was Omega. Pantalone was about to call Zandik but he observed closer. Then he instantly knew. That Omega wasn't staring at his creator, instead,

He was staring at you with unreadable expression.

Perhaps that was the stare of yearning, Pantalone realized.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Omg, that took longer than I expected. Now, I'm not sure whether I want to continue the continuation after this.

The lighting that day had been perfect. Deep red satin shining in the afternoon. A perfect, shining gem coveted for its luster and cut.

His days were numbered. So many patients said they felt their body failing them. Feofan had confessed as such over the decades.

His hands had always been so steady, so capable. Surgery was nothing more than child’s play. Fine motor work that was second nature, honed and refined in long hours few ever bothered with. Painting was your forte, your second love, but you’d taught him with patience that almost outpaced his own.

How did someone barely in their third decade be so willing to wait? At that age, he was only patient when it mattered, but you?

You felt at ease in this world. He didn’t so much envy you as he did long to capture it, understand it, so he too could feel it, one day.

Zandik stepped back from the canvas, brow furrowed as he forced his bad eye to focus. Depth perception was difficult and his heart sank.

Nothing but a shadow. Colors stood too sharp against one another, his fingers having been too sore for longer blending periods. It was obvious he’d had more energy for your face, the finest part of the entire masterpiece. Ten years ago, this would have been so easy.

Useless.

Old.

Decrepit.

Why did you bother with him, he wondered. This was meant to be your birthday present, the way he saw you and what you meant to him.

Would you feel compelled to fix it? Straighten the lines, smooth the colors, make quick work of his shaky splatters?

He couldn’t hold a wrench anymore, nor were his eyes good for small mechanisms. With all of the major projects outsourced to the better and more capable parts of himself, this was all he had left. How else did one capture their world visually?

He sat down, palette knife in hand, contemplating just slashing the thing to pieces.

“Zandik?”

Your voice, a melody.

One he didn’t deserve, not right now. The sentiment must have shown or you would not have hesitated as you said, “I can come back.”

He held out a hand, dropping the knife and beckoning you. You took it upon reaching him, fingers finding the sore joints you always worked. So warm, like morning sun on dewed grass.

Your appraising silence was a strange comfort to the voice in his head.

“You are unhappy with it, I take it?” you asked, nestling onto his leg, skirts rustling as you pulled the palette knife from his other hand.

“I can’t do anything anymore,” Zandik whispered. “What good am I, when parts of me are so much more efficient, quicker witted, not prone to failure? What do you see in me?”

You pressed a hand to his cheek and he turned to look at you, still barely halfway through life and full of vigor. Eyes that spoke far beyond their years. Those were always his favorite part of you, so expressive, vibrant.

“I see a man determined,” you started. “Who sacrifices himself in hopes of breaking a wheel he may not be around to see shatter.”

You picked up a brush and without breaking your thought, mixed colors nearby.

“Who looks at the world and understands he still has much to learn, even now.”

Skilled hands filled in the space above your shoulder, painting hands, a jacket, red eyes.

“Who looks at me as if I am a marvel despite having experienced every cruelty this world has to offer. Who has let me chip away at the rational transitional walls that stood between us for many years and given me a treasure unimaginable.”

His eyes stung but through a fog, he saw a soft expression, watched as you turned your pose from a stoic mirror into a dynamic, private moment. Your pose originally involved looking off to the side, away from the viewer, but now you looked at the new figure.

Him.

Two styles, not quite clashing but not blending together, either. Faces the only parts in focus.

“I see a man who loves me, Zandik. And that has always been enough.”

He pulled you closer once you put the tools aside, burrowing his head against you. Other parts might say he grew sentimental in his old age despite ripping apart his soul. Perhaps he had. What else was there for the world to teach him?

“Hmm, you’re not entirely wrong. I came to you because I missed your company.” While his tone might rile someone else up or cause some sort of negative reaction, you remained as calm and collected as you usually did. He faltered momentarily in the face of your honesty.

“Well,” he sniffed, trying to brush you off, “I am going to be quite busy here, so I won’t be able to entertain you.” A few moments of silence passed.

“Alright, if you want me to go, then I will. I won’t distract you.” You conceded and began to make your way out of the room.

“Wait.” The Segment had put down everything he was tinkering with and stared at you, mouth slightly agape, as if he wasn’t expecting you to listen to him. Eighteen glanced around the area for something to stall you with, to delay your departure. Ah, some documents that needed to be delivered to another Segment. He could just ask you to pass them on and then manage to strike up something research-related, and then you could linger-

But that is when he remembered that you wouldn’t come back anyway, and what’s more, your time for the rest of the day would probably be consumed by that other version of him. He wasn’t very fond of you leaving him to go to someone else.

“Yes?” You cocked your head to the side, awaiting his response. He felt heat crawl up his neck.

“Nothing,” he said dumbly. You let out a hum in response and turned around again, slowly strolling toward the exit, taking the time to look at the ceiling and examine the bits of machinery and reports here and there. It was almost like you were doing this on purpose.

“If there’s nothing else, then I’ll see you-” You were nearly at the door before something collided into you from behind, knocking the words out of your mouth. It only took a few seconds to notice that Eighteen had latched himself onto your back, arms wrapped around your sides.

“H-Hey?” At most, you were expecting the Segment to create an excuse to get you to stay, not tackle you from behind, but you weren’t complaining. “Eighteen?” The call of his name made his breath hitch as he loosened his grip on you a bit.

“I…” The words got stuck in his throat, the short curls of his blue hair tickling your cheek. There wasn’t really a convincing way to bluff his way out of this when he’d practically thrown himself onto you. “I was going to ask you to…” Just being around you was making him lightheaded.

It was then that you wiggled out of his grip to turn around, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at him with the kindest gaze anyone had ever given him.

“I’ll stay,” you said simply, before sauntering back to your place again at the top of his desk, patting your thigh like it was a motion for him to come closer. Of course, he had his ways, but he was more obedient to you than he’d ever admit.

Eighteen hovered in front of you, arms hanging lanky by his side as if he had forgotten how to use them after embracing you, before you grabbed his hands and placed them on your waist. He swallowed, acting as if the heat that was burning him up was nothing. Your thumb rubbed circles along his jaw before cupping his chin and pulling him in.

The Segment whimpered as your lips connected, and one hand moved to grip the back of your shirt while the other fiercely sank into your softness. Your hand reached to caress his cheek, and the other massaged his scalp, and his knees almost gave out at the sensation.

There are very few things in this world that Eighteen would describe as lovely, if any, but you unquestionably were. And he would probably be indulging in your loveliness until he was out of breath… which would probably be soon, but you’re good at telling him to take breaks, right?

—

Although all of the Segments had their own disputes and feelings about each other, it had become obvious that Eighteen was a bit more… vocal about his displeasure. Perhaps it stemmed from being one of the youngest of the Segments, maybe from the frequent and ever-present feeling of being overlooked and rejected, or maybe something else. And every so often, you had to witness such situations.

In this case, while the thirty-five-year-old Segment found it interesting to read through the Akademiya’s editorials and other publications from time to time, the eighteen-year-old would scoff and roll his eyes whenever the topic was brought up. It wasn’t hard to understand why. The young Segment was stuck reliving the pain of attending and being excluded for his ideas, the trauma of being blamed for the death of someone he didn’t cause. It was no wonder he had stronger feelings about the school while the older ones had mellowed out. 

“Do you really need to spend so much time reading those things? Surely it can’t be that interesting. Nothing from people who allow themselves to be chained to the rules can,” Eighteen huffed as he eyed the paper the older Segment was reading. Thirty-Five seemed unbothered.

“I won’t deny that. However, generalizing would be a mistake. There are a few pieces that manage to hold some substance, although they are exceedingly rare.” The Segment agreed, and yet somewhat did not at the same time. Eighteen clicked his tongue, and that was when he turned to you for support.

“[Name], don’t you agree? You’ve experienced the hypocrisy of the Akademiya firsthand, have you not?” There was something in the younger Segment’s eyes that seemed like he was searching for your approval.

“Me? Well, I-” It was then that you paused, and something quite sad dawned on you. You had been able to change, but he could not. Thirty-Five then glanced at your downcast expression.

“Eighteen, do refrain from asking them intrusive questions.” The older Segment let out a sigh.

“Can’t I be curious about their opinion?” Because you were the only person who would take him seriously and answer him with something thoughtful.

“Not at their expense.” Eighteen chewed his lip at the older Segment’s words before taking a glimpse at your face and seeing your glumness. His mouth opened - to say what, he didn’t even know - before closing it. An awkward silence fell, and he quietly left.

You soon found where he had run off to soon after, and he looked like he was expecting you.

“Did I offend you?” He couldn’t help being blunt. It was just in his nature to ask difficult questions and seek difficult answers. You let out a small laugh. Before, he didn’t seem to care in the moment, but it seemed that, after some reflection, he truly did care about your feelings.

“No… No, you didn’t. I know you just wanted a direct answer from a direct question. I just needed some time to think about it.” Eighteen’s stiff posture relaxed a bit after receiving your reassurance.

“But anyway… Eighteen, I’ve… moved on from those times. From what they did to me at least. It still upsets me, but it was so long ago. I don’t want to waste my energy on it.” You remember all the stares and chatter that popped up when you decided to stay with The Outcast, from your peers and professors and the Sages, effectively making the others push you away. But it wasn’t something you would ever regret. You would choose Zandik again and again, no matter what others told you. However, the Segment didn’t look satisfied with that answer.

“They threw you out of the Akademiya without any attempts at accommodations. They would hardly spare you a glance or listen to when you asked for extensions or tried to explain your condition.” He progressively raised his voice as he recounted your struggles. “And those people, they looked at you like-” He bit his tongue as if uttering it would send him into a deeper fury. “Those doctors too, they just brushed you aside and-”

It was then you truly realized that Eighteen wasn’t just scarred from his own rejection. At how cruelly he was received by everyone around him. He was upset about how they treated you too. At how his only beloved had to suffer so terribly. 

You grabbed Eighteen’s hand, and that seemed to bring him back to you. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure how you could go about this. You could teach him how to love, but it was a different story helping him to shed such deep-seated insecurity and nonacceptance.

“I know. I remember all of that, and I don’t like it either, just as I hate what both of us had to go through.” One of your hands brushed his palm, while the other stroked the top. “But… the Akademiya can’t hurt me again. And… they can’t hurt you. We aren’t there anymore. I know I can’t change your mind, but… we’re here now. Things are different, and I have you with me. And I’m very happy with you right now, in this moment. At the very least, know that.” 

You felt as if that was a flimsy answer, but you didn’t know what else to say. Because in truth, it was only natural he could never forget those experiences, especially at such a tender age. 

“… I guess if that’s really what you think, then I’m inclined to take your opinion into consideration.” There were a few beats of silence before Eighteen quietly replied. You could only wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He slowly reciprocated and held you, and he felt something flutter in his chest when you pressed a small kiss to his skin.

You were so warm. He would not compare it to an all-consuming fire that chased things away from it and made hearts race in fear. You were just… warm.

But you knew that although you said all of that, your poor boy could never move on from the pain of rejection embedded into his very core. 

—

There was a quiet corner of the lab that Eight seemed to like to hang around in besides being in his room, and he soon introduced you to it. The attachment was beginning to grow deep, as he began to show you more of his notebooks and various texts the others had given him - mainly from Forty-Five and the original Zandik. 

“So, this is where you’ve been.” A voice suddenly echoed nearby, the click of Eighteen’s boots sounding as well. The older Segment appeared in front of you, and when he noticed the young boy on your lap, his expression changed.

“Hi, Eighteen. I’m surprised you’ve found us all the way out here. Did you need something?” Eight glanced at him but kept his head down in his books.

“I..” His usual brashness seemed to temporarily dissipate at the sight. The child sat in your lap, with one hand keeping him securely positioned and the other playing with his soft hair, adorning him with soft kisses on his cheek from time to time as he pointed to things and explained them. But after a few moments, his attitude came back. 

“I came for you. Because we have things to do.” You raised your eyebrows, still keeping your gentle smile on your face.

“Like…?” The Segment floundered for an answer.

“Reports. Research. I need your opinion.” He crossed his arms as if you should have already known.

“I’m happy to help you with all of that. But right now, I’m with Eight.” You patted the child’s head to emphasize. “I’m sure I could come visit you when we’re done, though.” He didn’t move from that spot as you turned your attention back to the kid. You praised his younger self and nodded along with his ideas, and Eighteen gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand to watch something so childish and nonsensical. 

“And Forty-Five is calling for you, Eight.” Eighteen suddenly interrupted once more, drawing your attention to him once again.

“I didn’t hear anything in the hive-mind.” Eight put his book down and quietly replied.

“Well, maybe you weren’t paying attention.” His response was immediate and scowling. You frowned and shot the older Segment a look, but he ignored your gaze. A few seconds later, the child grabbed his notebooks and was heading off.

“Bye, [Name].” Eight lingered near you as you smoothed down his hair from all the ruffling you did before departing.

“Bye-bye, my dear.” You waved him goodbye, and now only you and Eighteen were left in the room. “Alright then, I guess we should-”

“Why do you tolerate him?!” The force of his words had you taken aback, but you had a feeling where this was going.

“Why… Why would I not-”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, or what he’s doing. He shouldn’t speak about it as if he-”

“Eight has some good ideas-”

“Those are naive fantasies from someone who doesn’t understand how the world works. They are implausible. We have actual work to do, and we shouldn’t be wasting time listening to him. Not me, not you.” He had balled his fists up so tightly, you were sure it was painful.

People may not have wanted to listen to his ideas as a kid, but that little boy still had the ability to dream all the childish ideas he wanted. But for Eighteen, people still did not want to listen to his ideas, and he had gradually lost that ability to think freely as a child would. That was why he could not stand to be around Eight, who was the beginning of the ideas that others scorned him for, but still persisted to dream about them anyway.

“… But even if they are just childish fantasies, don’t they deserve to be appreciated and nurtured anyway? Perhaps so they could even grow into something more?” You took small steps toward him, his back turned to you as he shook. “And there were so many things that others said couldn’t be done, but you accomplished them anyway, didn’t you?” You placed your hand on his back, and the shaking stopped momentarily as you pressed your face against him.

“I love every part of you. The parts of you that make me smile and laugh. And the parts that others may have hated or feared about you… I love those just as much, and they deserve to be loved and seen.” Your arms reached to snake around Eighteen’s sides as he seemed to calm down, or at least stop shaking. “You don’t need to hide away those parts of yourself, because I want to learn about them all the same. So please don’t say that.” 

You could see that he wasn’t going to respond to you. So instead, you continued to hold Eighteen from behind as he blinked back tears and reached to place his hand over yours.