12 Miles Below

ToWrathh watched the archive play, pausing on the timestamp she had been looking for.

The scene froze in the digital landscape. In it, she saw a fight between two titans.

To’Aacar lashed out, spear frozen mid-swing. His opponent had already brought up his left hand to intercept, fractal power glowing on his arm, while his right hand struck out with his blade. Around the two frozen foes, ghostly images surrounded them, all diving out with their own attacks to harass the Feather.

She walked within that frozen moment, observing the actions both combatants took. Details were faded and muted behind To’Aacar, as it was beyond his visual view. What existed there was only what he had mentally assumed, thus it was fittingly blurred and darkened.

That wasn’t of interest to To’Wrathh.

“There.” A woman’s voice boomed behind her. “On the human’s belt.”

To’Wrathh turned to the source of the voice. The woman she saw wore a stately dress, edges falling away in wisps of data. A deep violet tone marked her choices, contrasting well with the pale white features of her face. A crown of silver hovered above. Her pale hand rose, and the lady pointed at the scavenger known as Keith. The boy that had killed To’Wrathh.

The one to whom she aimed to return the favor.

In the memory, he remained suspended like the rest of the scene, sprinting past To’Aacar, doing his best to keep out of the way. And at his belt was a small black box.

“A remnant of a different time. One I had thought snuffed out from the world.” Relinquished said. “Clearly, my servants have not been thorough enough. This vexes me greatly, of course. And I will appropriately deal with those servants after I'm done here.”

To’Wrathh processed the answer and realized it hadn’t been an answer at all. Perhaps she would need to ask a different way. “What does it do?”

The pale lady turned to stare. “Why, I don’t know, child. That is the issue. There is nothing more troubling to me than the unknown.”

To’Wrathh pondered on that. There were many things in the world she didn’t know. The machines were not everywhere in the world, nor were they all of one mind. Most of her kind did not even exist within the physical world, and only a smaller fraction of them could even comprehend that a world beyond the digital ocean existed. The unknown surrounded them all at every layer. Why fear this one entity above all?

“Is Tsuya truly that much of a threat?” To’Wrathh asked. “Records from the archives I can access show several thousand years of relative balance. Is that likely to change due to this one item?”

The pale lady walked softly up to her Feather, a motherly smile stretched on her features. She came closer to To’Wrathh, reaching out, cupping her digital cheeks with her hands. “Balance is so lovely when seen from afar, isn’t it? Everything seems like it will remain the same way for an eternity.” She said, lightly pushing both cheeks, one side to the other. “And yet, balance is such a fragile thing as well. All it takes is one little push, one wrong question, one small mistake - and nothing is the same ever again.”

The fractal of unity flared to life within her true body’s chassis back in the real world, connecting her to something against To’Wrathh’s will. Something horrifying. Crippling pain flared through the Feather, like a flood of magma blazing through her system. Every synapse of her mind was filled with it, burned by it, consumed in flame. Pain became everything she was, united to it. Almost as quickly as it had come, it bled away, lingering only in her short term memory.

The fractal deep within turned off, severing the connection to whatever that had been.

To’Wrathh sluggishly reconnected to her digital avatar. Bewildered she could even feel pain so keenly as this.

She found her avatar had collapsed on the ground, the pale lady hovering above her. “My dear, you see so little of the work I do. The difficulty I go through to pin down my sister’s playthings and keep her well behaved. Do not question me again, you silly child.”

To’Wrathh noted this information and marked it as highest priority.

How barbaric. The soul of Winterscar spoke. You truly are no different from the worst of us.

Irritation passed through To’Wrathh and she closed her vice on the errant soul. Clearly she’d left him too much leash. His distraction was not something she needed right now.

“To’Aacar failed me.” The lady continued, speaking dryly. “He had one single mission, to capture this human and recover the information that my sister had told him. One simple mission. I don’t ask for much, truly.”

She snapped her fingers, and To’Aacar appeared within the virtual space. He digitized slightly higher than the digital space’s floor, the fall carrying him down onto his knees. The avatar showed chains, digging deep into his skin, black oil dripping from the spikes within the manacles.

A weight pushed him into the ground, though he struggled to stand up against it regardless.

The pale lady turned to stare down To’Wrathh. “The pain you felt is but a fraction of what your dear mentor here was put through. Consider that closely.”

To’Wrathh reached out a tentative probe to her fellow Feather. He rejected the connection with a virtual slap, giving her a derisive glare while a packet of information passed by in the real world. “Save your pity.” He whispered to her through the connection. “I’ve been through this before. And soon enough... you will too, dear little sister. You will too.”

In the video archive, the pale lady continued to speak, either oblivious to the conversation between the Feathers, or too far beyond to care.

“I hope you emulate his victories, and not his follies. My Feathers are my instruments.” She turned to look at The One Above All Challenge And Reach. “Those that do not obey, will be made to obey.” The pale lady walked to where the broken Feather remained kneeling. One white hand cupped the side of his cheek, just as she had done earlier to To’Wrathh’s avatar.

“Oh, my dear, lost, To’Aacar. It seems your name has blinded you to certain realities lately. Do not forget your place again, you silly little Feather. You serve me above all. Do not reach again beyond your means. Am I clear?” She seemed to almost play with him, lightly tapping the side of his cheek.

“...Yes, my lady.” To’Aacar said. He seemed to wilt at the admission, all attempts to struggle ending. The weight carried him back firmly onto his knees. “I hear.”

“And what?”

“...and I obey.”

“Good child. Listen well. You and To’Wrathh will resolve this mess you’ve left for me.” She said, pointing at the black box that Keith wore on his belt. “For you, it will be a much needed chance at redemption. I’ve spared you in light of your past service. Mercy does not run endless however, least of all mine.” She turned to look at To’Wrathh. “And as for you, this will be your chance to prove yourself. I task you both to capture this human. You will destroy that contraption on his belt. You will recover what he knows about Tsuya. Do whatever you wish with the human after you’ve taken what he knows, I care not.”

Winterscar sneered. Good luck. The dead human spat. To’Wrathh ignored him.

The memory shifted, flashing forward. The combat sped up, the two opponents locked against one another in an increasingly deadly display of destruction.

And then Keith was launched into the air, and upon stumbling down into the ground, a sphere of bright yellow light bounced away.

The pale lady continued to race through the archive, up until the sister reached out for the orb. There, the scene froze once more.

“That.” The lady pointed directly at the orb. “Must be destroyed. I will not suffer to have it exist. I will not. The human as well, kill her. Am I clear?”

“Yes.” To’Wrathh replied. Tenisent simply raged wildly at hearing this command and the ghost found himself quickly silenced.

Be still. She chided, before closing her grip around his cell.

“That soul that you collected, has it told you where these rats are hiding?” The pale lady asked, noticing the movements.

It had. She had seen firsthand the memories Tenisent Winterscar held. Even now, she felt his ire and revulsion at the thought. The self-loathing that his own memories were being used to track down and kill what was left of his family.

To’Wrathh once more checked to see that all the bindings remained in place. They held still, the soul chained up tightly within. She did not want to underestimate this one.

Put at ease, To’Wrathh stopped paying attention to his simmering hatred and turned to answer back her master’s question. “They live in a clan, on the surface.”

The pale lady froze, all motion stopping for a fraction of a second. “That soul that you collected, has it told you where these rats are hiding?”

To’Wrathh felt slightly stunned. Had her processes jumped a few cycles? “Yes.” She answered, once again. Perhaps her original data package to the lady had failed.

“They live in a clan, on the surface.”

Once more, the pale lady’s avatar froze, before resetting to a moment earlier. “That soul that you collected, has it told you where these rats are hiding?”

“I have already answered you, my lady. Please check your logs.”

The pale lady frowned, looking through. “I see nothing. Curious of you to play games with me, child. I’ve already shown you what questioning me brings. Do I need to teach you this lesson again?”

To’Aacar climbed back up on his feet, laying a hand on To’Wrathh’s shoulder. “Don’t bother, my lady. This little sister of mine is too dim for your... direct attention. I have a good idea of where the rats are fleeing to, and we will carry out your will.”

The pale lady glared at the Feather. “You had better.”

“I am already mobilizing my army and encircling the humans. It will be done within the coming months.”

“I do not care how long you take. I do not care how you carry out this mission. I only care for results. Destroy what they carry. Uncover what they know. And bring me their heads. That is all. Failure will be unpleasant for both of you.”

To’Wrathh did not have the time to respond before the vision faded around her. The connection closed.

In the real world, she was left by the empty mite-constructed city, sitting upon the domed back of a nest spider, one that had traveled outside her nest domain to carry To’Wrathh around. She’d found it a fitting place to brood and rest. The sister hummed under her, content with her role. Spiders liked to remain still, watching the world pass by.

The underground mite city stretched before her, the nest spider having taken her to the tallest building, allowing her to oversee all the domain before her.

Movement appeared in the city below. Dense packs of rushing bodies, more than a hundred, perhaps even a thousand, all converging to her location. The humans called them Screamers. They called themselves Runners. It was their nature to run with their packs, to explore, to seek. To move.

And here they pooled at the base of her tower. Glancing down, she saw them make an empty circle of space, where a single runner took a step away from his pack. It stared up at her, taking a few more timid steps away from its hunting group.

They wanted her attention, clearly.

To’Wrathh stood up on the nest spider, wings unfolding from her side. With a step into the abyss, she fell in a controlled descent, all the way down to the ground. The spider’s mind brooded, sad to see her away, but patient enough to wait for her return.

Soon enough, the Feather’s feet landed lightly upon the mite ground. There, the Runners towered over her. The one in front made her form look small in comparison. Its skull-like face, lacking a jaw, looked deeply back into her eyes. She noted how the chassis of this model was filled with cuts, including a large deep one right by the eye. This runner was old, more clever. A survivor of many encounters. It had learned quite a bit by now. She felt the machine’s mind, more cunning than she had assumed.

“Message.” It said in a rasping voice. “For you. My. Lady.”

The rest of the Runners remained around, flinching, unused to staying still for too long. They wanted to move, to explore again, to run wild and free with their pack. And yet, something held them all here.

The Runner spoke again. This time, it was not his voice at all. To’Aacar spoke through the minion. “Don’t mention the surface to the pale lady.” He said, berating her immediately. There was a tone of derision in his voice. “I have enough to handle without you angering the lady even further.”

“What about the surface causes issue?” To’Wrathh asked. She felt perplexed by this.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care, little sister. It’s always been this way since before I was created. A leftover from the early days of war, maybe? More importantly, mentions of the surface do two things - they slip by her notice like water sliding over ice. And they make her progressively angrier with each mention until she reacts differently. I would have happily let you continue asking your question until she squashed you like an insect, but then I would have been squashed alongside you as well.”

To’Wrathh filed this information away as well. She turned her attention to the army that was now forming around her. They shuffled around, glancing at each other, uncertain about their purpose here. “And this?” She asked.

“Our targets are on the surface, my subjects are useless to me, since they’re all infected as well. All our lessers are in their own ways. The surface is an anathema to our kind. The compulsion is too diluted by now to be something these lessers cannot outright comprehend, but getting too close to the surface causes issues and erratic behavior I don’t have the patience to deal with.”

“Does that affect us?” To’Wrathh asked, worried.

“If it had, we wouldn’t be talking about this in the first place, now would we? We are a cut above the lessers, my dear sister. At least, I am. As for you… well, I am amazed by your brilliance with each passing day, this very question; a stunning example of it.”

“Are these insults necessary?” To’Wrathh asked. Her voice carried no anger. She was genuinely curious.

“Absolutely. They do nothing to improve you, but they do make me feel better. And that’s all that matters to me.”

That... was a rare and honest answer from her mentor. To’Wrathh filed away the knowledge and then turned to her mission. “How do we capture the humans if we cannot step on the surface?”

Perhaps they would have to bait the humans down? She couldn’t afford to simply wait for her query to descend down on his own volition. There was always a chance that her target would choose to stay within the walls of the human fortress. She would be crushed if her prey died of old age. The thought was unacceptable. It went against her name.

“I’ve found that if you want to kill a human, there’s no greater monster at killing humans than another one. They are well versed little creatures in that art, it’s impressive enough that even I approve.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Answer your own questions. For now, I’ll handle the surface, since you are clearly too inexperienced to be left in charge. Once I crush the clan, they’ll scatter, seeking shelter and safety. You will handle the underground. It should be a far simpler task, one that even you can perform.”

She didn’t understand why he wanted to involve the underground in the first place. All their targets were on the surface. Her confusion lasted only for a few milliseconds before she realized the humans would likely attempt their own counterplans, which may involve the underground. To’Wrathh pulled up an internal map of the surroundings, expanding the vision past a few hundred miles. She calculated where the most likely location for fleeing refugees would attempt to bivouac at.

The answer was almost immediately obvious. “The undersider city.”

A small nest of human infestation, blighting the underground land. This one was a far distance away, but not prohibitively so. If the surface dwellers were searching for allies or a fallback, it would be among their own kind.

“Perhaps you’re not quite as dim as I had first assumed.” To’Aacar said. His tone implied that he clearly didn’t believe what he said. To’Wrathh ignored the slight. She had time, she would learn.

“That city will without a doubt become involved. Therefore, I want it crushed and burned to the ground. I am leaving the lessers in your care for this task, as they’re useless to me otherwise.”

Within To’Wrathh, she felt her awareness bloom. All around her, hundreds of machines connected. The Runner before her knelt down, offering allegiance to her without question. His pack did the same, as did all the Runners and other models of machines.

They all knelt like a wave. She accepted it all, shifting through the signatures, cataloguing and organizing the roster.

A handful were different. She selected those, observing their form. And recoiled. Even the soul of Tenisent Winterscar recoiled with her in disgust as he watched over her shoulder.

“What are these?” She asked To’Aacar.

“Ex-humans.” He simply said through his proxy. “The extras I don’t need.”

Traitors, Tenisent seethed within. Even with the tightened muzzle, he raged at the discovery like a wild animal.

She squeezed his leash even further, leaving him caged within darkness. It would not do to leave him too long there, lest the soul begin to lose sanity, floating within an endless darkness. She still needed him in one piece to make use of his skills. If he went insane, that would be the end of it.

Behave. She sent out to him. The soul’s rage slowly bottled itself, and she nodded approvingly, leaving a small channel of input to flow back into the cage she had thrown him in. A small keyhole with which Tenisent peered through. “I’ve already taken the good ones; you may do with the leftover rabble however you wish.” To’Aacar said. “They’re none of my concern and I don’t want them back. The lessers too, all trash from the upper levels to me. You’ll fit right in with them.”

To’Wrathh saw what he meant. Indeed, he had taken about eighty or so of these odd signatures and deployed orders to them already. She could feel the strange beings moving around in their camp, scrambling to follow their orders. They had not come here to see her in person. Instead, they remained far off, away from all the machines, wary.

Hundreds of emotions bled from these beings, terror, panic, fear, hope, resolution, despair. More than she had yet to experience herself. Far more than any of the simple lessers that surrounded her. Only the machine directly in front of her had any semblance closer to these.

She felt these ex-humans embrace one another, waving goodbye, equipping gear and readying to follow their leader to wherever he planned to go. To’Aacar departed with them, moving to the surface.

The rest remained behind, now loyal to her.

But eighty or so ex-humans were no army. “Without a force of your own, you cannot challenge the surface dwellers,” To’Wrathh said. “I have reviewed the logs, and I have seen the memories of what the clan owns. You are strong, but you cannot survive the firepower these humans can combine together. Even with these ex-humans added to that power.”

To’Aacar laughed. “Did I not tell you already, sister? If you want to exterminate humans, leave it to the humans. The vermin are far more skilled at it than you could guess.”

He turned and stalked off, already moving on his part of the mission. “All you have to do is make sure that city is broken at your feet. Do that, and the pale lady will be pleased with our work. Do not worry about my own task; I already have my army in mind. They don’t know that they’re mine yet, but soon enough they will. Soon enough, they all will.”

Silence.

“The connection. It has been cut. My. Lady.” The old Runner said, its voice returned to the normal growling tone. It now fidgeted, looking left and right.

She took a step forward to it, and the Runner flinched backwards, almost in fear. An odd reaction.

“Why do you cower from me?” She asked it. “I am now your master. You have sworn loyalty to me. There should be no fear of me.”

The Runner pondered. She could feel it think. The mind was muddled compared to her own, and yet sharp in different ways.

“Old master. Harsh.” He settled on saying. “New master. Unknown.”

She felt the same emotion spread across the rest of her army. The machines looked on with a mix of curiosity and... dread.

Your mentor learned cruelty from her. The soul of Tenisent Winterscar whispered from the keyhole she’d left for him, deep within. That’s where their fear comes from. Ask it.

To’Wrathh considered the wisdom of following the advice of her enemy. She still felt suspicious of the old human, but her mind couldn’t quite see what his goals were, or if there were some trap he laid out. She studied the question but found no malice or possible way it could harm her. It seemed innocent enough.

And so she asked. “Did your old master punish you often?”

The Runner flinched again. The movement spread, many others flinching as well. A sense of loss came from them.

“The ones that failed.” The old Runner said. “They are gone. I do not want to be... gone.”

To’Wrathh tilted her own head and considered. What do they actually want? The ghost again whispered softly.

In the darkness of his cell, Winterscar smiled. A wide, toothy thing, well hidden from his jailor.

Again, she saw no reason not to inquire, and when she peered at the soul trapped within, she found only mild curiosity.

And so she asked her questions.

Questions that these lessers had never been asked before by their masters.

Questions that, perhaps, should never have been thought of at all.

Next chapter - Wrong Neighborhood

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