#apcolypse

There are many destructions, love. Small and close, alien lipstick, adjacent anomaly, clenched fist. Forgetfulness, Friday after Friday, the world destroyed in its repetition. There are many more destructions love, the literalist litany, gone gone gone, the space between gone and left, and the world ‘taken’, translated, has dragged its chains through ragnarok and back. The moan of a trumpet in the morning, the grief at the eyeshut shudder of walls, the sky drifting down as light as a father, old, a child, older. A line reaching up and down, trying to make a building of a heartbeat.   Cruel machine love, cruel love alive, artificial reality, the negative imprint of fingerprint on finger. Losses. There are more destructions  than you could  dream, devise, design. The desert mind,  the world ending  in leaflawn women,  body and mind fully  divided. The world ends  in my hair,  in your  syrup tongue, in  those curved footprints. 

        The Beginning: Part Two          

         She descended the long steel staircase leading towards to the hubbub of the marketplace, a questionable job of patched together fire escapes and bedposts. She bumped into passersby, all trying to keep their balance on the fragile structure as they moved hurriedly to and from the elevated Headquarter offices. Ebony felt as if she was in a dream, her thoughts far away as she calculated the outcomes of her work, or what they might mean to the humanity that sought to fight the Mage’s cruel judgment. Several people waved to her as she drifted onto the streets of the large cavern, looking up at the roofline of shacks and hanging wires to see Alexander Hatten standing at his window gazing down as if he could see her even now. Ebony brushed off the idea as she moved through the makeshift marketplace, searching for the platforms she knew so well, hidden deep against the walls of Recalcitrant’s fortress.

          "Ebony!" A young man's voice called out through the mulling throng of resistance fighters around her. "Over here!" he called again, this time jumping up between the mass of people. Daylan Hatten's face beamed at her through the fatigued and agonized backs of the worn troops, streaming around her like she was a rock amidst water. "Ebony, did you speak with my father?" He called out to her again as he pushed through the crowd, coming close enough to grab her arm and pull her nearer to him. His voice dropped low amongst the soft chatter of the street. "Is there any news of Alyss?"

          Ebony shook her head as she pushed him under the side of a makeshift street shack. "None. He will not hear of her, but I’m still buying what time I can."

          “The weapon? You’re still working on it though, right?"

          Ebony nodded as she pressed herself back further against the sheet metal wall. "Daylan, your father believes she's as good as dead. If she's still alive, you need to get her out of the Mage facilities. He’s already trying to start mass producing the gun." She squeezed his arm tighter. "Do you understand?"

          Daylan nodded, dread in his gaze. "I'll be waiting for whatever you can give me, but we don’t have long. A team needs to go get her back."

          "A team without you in it," Ebony huffed.

          "Of course I’d be in it. Now, what about the gun?” Daylan pleaded, a hint of his father appearing in his prayer. “We need her, Ebony. Whatever this war really is cannot be won without her knowledge. From what she was able to send me, I know she learned something that can be the end of this." Daylan gestured his hand out to the thousands of treading souls covered in rags and weapons, the odd bulletproof vest or mechanical fusion upgrade. "Don't make them suffer any longer."

          She let go of Daylan, scrutinizing the crowd to be sure they were not watched. "I trust that you'll wait for my work if you want to make it back alive with Alyss." The young man nodded, the stoic expression ever more like a youthful version of their Leader, revered but still questioned.

          "I'll do my best." Daylan raised his right arm, placing the crook against Ebony's as she mirrored him. "I am Recalcitrant," they muttered to each other before parting ways into the stream.

          Ebony proceeded through the horde, consumed by thoughts of the future, her past, and the present problem of creating a weapon that would not just become another killing machine, as she knew it would become inevitably. She caught the gaze of the old conductor through the dim industrial lighting, lifting a hand to him before she took her place on the platform beside him.

          "It’s the sixth time in the last few months you’ve been up here. Hatten must be pleased with you," The old man cackled, heaving a lever downward, making a great creaking whine which emanated from the floor below them. The plated ground began to sink, something Ebony had once been fearful of but now greeted it like a call homeward. The platform bored under the ground to reveal a deeper darker cavern. Spots of light from enormous furnaces scattered along the walls while piles of old junk pieces, great silent trains, and mounds of damaged prototypes were stacked up to create a maze of open spaces.

          "Not so much of late." She exhaled as she gazed at the decommissioned train station, soothed by the welcoming sound of thumping hammers in the forges below while the bellows turned with a deep trembling sound. Ebony sighed, promising to herself that if all the world went black and the Mage's alchemy held them all prisoners in their own homeland, she would always remember this.

          "Ruadan fighters and we crafty old Vulcans don't get along too well anyway." the old man said with a mischievous grin, the platform hissing to a jolted stop. He leaned forward with difficulty, taking Ebony's hand as she stepped off to descend a collection of stairs that led to the open space of concrete floor. She waved the old man goodbye and watched him raise the platform back up towards where the center of Recalcitrant.

Waiting for her was a tall broad shouldered man playing with a small glowing orb that danced in the air around him. The light of the little globe shone against his skin and the mechanical arm that gave a ticking whirr in his left shoulder socket. Ebony smiled as she watched her husband play with the little orb, laughing as it nuzzled up against his motorized appendage.

          "Nick," she called to him as she leaped off the last few steps and fell into his embrace, the customized steel wrapping around her as she breathed heavily against his chest. "I'm back." She smiled up at the little light orb that bounced around them, humming with delight.

          Nick pulled back to see her better. "How was the meeting with Hatten?"

          Ebony shook her head. "He wanted the gun again. This time he even threatened your life to get it." She pulled out of his arms, starting to walk off between the towering piles of junk, the path that she had walked for years now, back to her workspace. Nick reached out and grabbed the little orb, turning it off as he stuffed it into his pocket, jogging to keep up with her. He was silent as they moved between the crushed metal, his metal fingers tapping against the still orb in his pocket.

          "But you almost have it finished, I don't see why he's so upset." Nick paused and looked sideways at Ebony. He groaned as he paused their stride. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

          She set a hand on a stray piece of steel. "Alyss is still out there, Nick. Daylan is convinced she has information that will turn the tide of this war."

          He sighed, running a hand through the gathered undercut of his ash brown hair. He considered Ebony, her hands nervously tracing the edge of a steel bar with an unfocused gaze. "Hatten will never send a team to extract Alyss, will he?"

          She shook her head. "No, but he knows that we won't give it up unless she's safe. So, he'll either ensure that Alyss is dead, or he'll come after you to take the gun as fast as he can."

           Nick shivered at the thought and continued on toward the burning furnaces that lined the walls of the cavern. Ebony walked to his side, taking his hand in hers as they stood at the entrance of their shared workspace.

          The gun sat on its tripod, awaiting the touch of its creator as Ebony stared at it with a disproving frown. She hefted the gun, fingering the dials, turning down the pressurizations and adjusting the nozzle. She lifted it as she moved across the room to select a cartridge from her desk and jamming it into the top of the machine before powering it up. The soft purr made her hands shake as Ebony took aim at a singed target doll. She pulled the trigger, making the converting reaction snap to life, sending off a large blast of blue energy, the smooth recoil rippling through her arm. The doll shook and fell against the painted plywood behind it. Ebony smiled, pointing the gun upwards as she adjusted the nozzle again, tapping a touchscreen dial before taking aim once more. This time the energy collected in the center of the gun, drawing together blue crackling sparks that danced over the metal casing. Ebony pulled the trigger, watching the energy snap across the air to slam into the chest of the doll. The energy stuck to the canvas covered mannequin, snapping up and down the figure.

          Nick waited until the fizzing stopped, eyeing Ebony as she lowered the gun. "You fixed its aim I see."

          She frowned. "Yeah, but it's still not perfect. I'll have to test it on a human soon." Setting the gun back down on it's tripod, she started to handle the casing.

          "It's sticking more to the target too; did you add something to the plasma?" Nick leaned closer, examined the crackling target dummy.

          Ebony shrugged as she came to stand beside him. "I pressurized the canister just a little more, that's about it." She reached out tentatively toward the doll's arm. Nick watched her with evident concern as her fingers brushed against the doll's canvas skin. The electricity climbed up her worn fingers, dancing along the veins as the flesh of her arm quivered.

          "Ebony," Nick sucked in her name as he pulled her close to him, both of them fascinated by the sparks dancing along her skin as her forearm hung limp at her side. "You can't keep doing that."

          "But Nick, look." Nick raised his good hand to hover just above the skin, both of them captivated as the blue sparks flickered between her dark chocolaty brown and his olive tan. "Don't you need your good arm," she whispered as the energy surged across her veins.

          "Do you think it's ready to test?" Nick recoiled from the plasma sparks, holding just a little firmer to Ebony's side. "It seems to work, even transfer, which will be useful, but dangerous."

          She nodded as the sparks continued to dance. "But who would do the test?"

          Nick sighed and placed an oil grimed finger under her chin. "Daylan will do anything to get Alyss back,”

          "I can't ask him that,"

          "Because he'll say yes?"

          "Because he's Hatten's son. If anything happens to Alexander, who will lead us if not Daylan?"

          "He's a boy, he hasn't the leadership skills yet. He’s still running around doing missions, claiming that he’s going to fix the world like every other resistance fighter in this goddamn place," Nick sputtered angrily.

          "Then we'd look to Alyss." Ebony's words seemed to cut the heavy air of the cavern.

          Nick was silent as he turned away from her, stroking his face with the soft sound of steel on stubble. "Hatten will take the gun either way, Ebony. Would you rather bet on what you don’t know, or on real results?”

          Ebony grimaced, the feeling returning to her forearm as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't do that, you know exactly what I'd want."

          Nick chuckled under his breath. "I know, that's why testing it now is the only way we can get Alyss back."

          "How does testing the gun get Alyss back?"

          "Test it on Daylan, then we can let him bring her home."

          "That's madness." She groaned, "but in these times of Mages and alchemy, madness will have to do."