Children of Terra

~Whenever it was~ ~Wandering in the ocean nothing~ ~Following a string like a fool~ ~Vykan, the other half of insanity~ He sucked in a breath of water to blow it out again in a gesture of boredom. All that shit he put up with in Telkhine just to wander in another ocean. The demon, Pruflas, hadn't spoke up in however long it was since 'cyber-psycho day' either. He was wandering abjectly in the darkness -- so deep not even the sunlight filtered by, when he felt nausea. It was mistaken as discomfort for a while now; but the feeling was growing, building in his gut and throat of a disgust that didn't bode to well for the supposed already-dead Vykan.       He collapsed forward into a silt bed and spewed. The vomit cloud encapsulated around his head, shimmering over the mote as more of his guts emptied out. It . . . it hurt. He didn't expect to feel that again after Stygia. His limbs trembled in the water, as the feeling of coughing and hacking and sucking the murk back in reflexive motions, cycled around and around. What, was happening?       The feeling of the demon settling behind his mind registered through coughs and vomits. Radiation poisoning. So, you do have susceptibilities. Change of plans, head directly leftward. We need to make landfall sooner than I hoped. Should be far out of Night City bay by now, though.       Vykan's mouth bubbled as he exhaled in the effort to rise from the silt. Radiation? In the California coast? What the fuck happened? He staggered after the mote as it twisted ahead.       How long have you been dead? Your accent and mannerisms are fairly to par.       No idea. Stopped caring the first time.       First time? You've died more than once? That doesn't seem odd in any way to you?       Vykan leaned on a coral structure to vomit more. He had to pull himself along the flowing base to continue. Not really, no. First time I figured was a fluke. I mean, people die and transmigrate all the time in stories, right? The second time . . . Well, I was in a land that was familiar with the concept of rebirth. In that setting, it just seemed like more luck to me . . .       Unless you regularly win the lottery, Vykan; that's not expected. I've heard of maybe a second chance here, or there. Not this . . . Where were we again? Ah, so you have no idea about the radiation, then?       No.       Okay. That means you probably don't know about the Resource Wars. That would put you at least as far back as . . . When did those start? In the 50's? Who was president in 1953?       Dunno. I'm not that old. Vykan braced himself against a rock, looking up at the first signs of light in the darkness. Every water-breath out had streamers of blood in them.       It wasn't McCarthy?       Vykan water-laughed, clambering upward in a slow, steady motion. What? No? Probably Truman or Eisenhower.       The feeling of the demon contemplating the gravity of this lulled on Vykan's mind. It was a quiet passage for a while, as the darkness slowly lifted to bluer and bluer gradients in time. Sunlight began to pillar down in bits, along the undulations of the great air bubble above.       Pruflas mind-spoke. You at least know about the Second World War?       Vykan looked up. Why did the surface have to be so close and yet so far?       . . .       Yes. I know about World War Two.       Hm. After the War ended, things calmed for just a handful of years. When McCarthy won in '52, he restarted the Korean War, sent nukes with abandon. Things led to things, and nuclear exchanges became more commonplace up to around the '70's. A lot of dirty bombs, spreading that poison everywhere. Of course, with weather patterns and currents, a lot of it has settled now. Probably best to stay out of near-sea-level zones, though.       Fuck. That explains why people were such assholes back there. Vykan was crawling up the silt as it transitioned to tidal sand, washed by laps to granulation. Close. He could see the bubble clearly now, as the surface was closing in.       No. That's because you genuinely are an asshole. Dick.       Vykan wheezed, half nausea and half a laugh. What can I say? I'm just a genuine guy. Thanks. Blood tendrils streamed from both nose and mouth at the gesture.       Great. Crazy, an ego, and immortal. Save us all.       Wow. And after I literally sell my soul to you, too. Whatever, man. I gave my heart to Stygia anyway. You can't have that. The final lap had shore waves pushing Vykan forward, aiding him. He broke surface and every breath out spew blood-laden water from his lungs. He coughed and hacked, rolling to his side as his feet were kissed by waves. Weakly, with liquid still in his lungs and sinus, Vykan spoke. "Fuck me. I came back to t -- *coughing* -- this?"       Pruflas ejected from the passenger seat, yelling out at nothing in particular. "Arrrgghhh! I'm free!" He stared at the sun for a while as Vykan lay coughing, before the demon's shoulders slumped. "Alright." Pruflas began pulling Vykan from the shore, using magia to cleanse himself and kneeling to triage on the Stygian. "Hm. Unusual. You're quite resistant to magia interference. Fuhhh, dammit."       Vykan bat his hands away. "Dun' matter. I just need a bit to catch my breath." Pruflas looked miffed, but huffed and relented, standing to gather bearings on where they were. By the time the duke returned, Vykan was already on a knee, drawing even, deep breaths.       "You recover quick."       "No, I feel like shit. I'm good at pretending." With a frustrated snarl, Vykan hopped to his feet. "So, did you find out where we are?"       Pruflas nodded. "Yeah. Give or take 25-30 miles south of Night City. Not bad, Vykan. I take it you don't need sleep?"       "No." He began walking in the inland direction. Calling over his shoulder, he spoke. "Where are we going?"       Pruflas followed. "Los Angeles. Plenty of opportunity to shake pursuers." A pause before more. "Probably won't be long before satellites ID us. Expect trouble on the way."       Vykan roll-popped his neck. "Yeah." ~A day of relative respite~ ~Through desert scar-lands~ ~Bleached and broken~ ~Vykan, radiological half-life still too long in his system~ They were camped by a roadside gas station, long since abandoned. Vykan was sitting on a tire rim, amused as the duke effortlessly drew fire from thin air to begin a small crackling nest in the covered filling area. He stared at the world around them; the flora, the fauna. So scarred beyond what he was last there for. It was instinctive. The world itself was tainted and twisted into something unlike where he lived. All that was left were memories, always being washed over by the grim future coming.       Vykan had been down that road before. Both literally and . . . Well, dwelling was a thing he thought would be behind him. Hm.       "You hum a lot." Pruflas didn't look up from tending the fire.       "Do I?" He was about to hum in amusement before he realized it. Dammit. "Sorry."       "It's already rubbing off on me." With a sigh, Pruflas almost caught himself humming. "I didn't think possession worked two ways. This is embarrassing. Tch, whatever. Don't change who you are, I'm still riding an emotional roller-coaster from yesterday."       Vykan didn't speak. He watched the skyline as the sun dipped back below the Pacific. Another day gone.       Pruflas stood after getting the fire self-sustaining without his input. "So. You want to talk about the next steps?"       "Might as well. Plans need to be made before they can be improved." He leaned forward.       "Here's the brass tacks. My wife and child were killed a long time ago by my family. Simply put, I want to kill them back. I'm not strong enough to do so, however. I need your help for one, you're a perfect vessel for me. You round out what I lack; personality aside, brick wall."       Vykan smiled, one chuckle from that. "So you're after my body . . . Well, makes sense."       Pruflas pinched his nose. "Dude. Take off the helmet, first of all."       Vykan complied, unstrapping the polemarch helmet, bullet holes and heat-blue discolorations pockmarking it. His shoulder-length, tawny red-brown hair fell to just below his neckline. Hazel green eyes looked back to the demon.       "Eugh. You were given round two with the ugly stick, weren't you? My apologies, you can hide that with the helmet again."       Vykan laughed, head cocked and shoulders bobbing. "I see. You really are a demon, aren't you? Fucking handsome piece of shit. Anyone would look ugly next to you." With a cathartic hum, Vykan refastened the helmet on.       Thinking through the premise, Vykan spoke up. "I'm not really strong in that regard. I mean, like you said, I'm just a good fighter with an invulnerability blessing."       The duke almost hummed. Fuck. This guy's id is strong. I have to be careful when I'm hitching a ride. "Yeah, that's why we need to re-travel the world again. I think it's time to embrace every tool at my disposal. I didn't before because of personal inhibitions. I don't like tramping on people to get my way."       "That's a first. I spent the past, year or so, being a tool for some knobs in Telkhine. Ever been there?"       Pruflas narrowed his brows. "Telkhine. As a location? No. I'm familiar with the daimons, though."       "So, we're traveling where exactly, or roughly?"       "The land of cultivation. What with being enemies of my family, we're gonna have to go the long way. They've penetrated into positions of too much influence. Can't risk being shot down over the ocean. Unless you want to trek through the irradiated Pacific?"       "You want me to travel with you across the whole fucking country? Either that or go through the swamp?" Vykan was still sickly, but he was tolerating it, nothing more. "Why don't we go over the Arctic circle?"       Pruflas laughed and shook his head. "No fucking way. The Soviets and the US got into it, remember? The north routes're all scorched worse than the oceans."       Vykan put his palms to his helmet. "Aw man, why does nothing ever go easy?"       The duke decided to sit down for a while, and let the Stygian work it through. Once the horizon was firm blue-black and moon out, he spoke again. "So, in or out?"       "We're killing demons, right?"       "Yeah. We are, ultimately."       "There's your answer. I'm too tired to talk for the night anymore, though." Vykan sighed. ~In the camp, well into the night~ ~Pruflas, conflicted and surreal~ He was working his own thoughts out. It was probably one of the worst days of his life, yesterday. The voices and shadows should have been tormenting him like nothing else. They weren't. Not even the fire seemed to be restless. Why?       He realized after playing the day back for the thousandth time. Vykan. There was some indescribable subtlety about the man-out-of-time. It was so subconscious not even the discerning duke noticed at first.       Being around Vykan silenced the torment. The world returned to normal. Once Pruflas made the connection, he had to shut his eyes to stop the flood. It had been so, so long for the duke to be at peace, as minute as it was.