Short Story - Late (Patreon)

The following is a little story I wrote for a character called Late in a Dark Matter campaign. It's just a moment in time, a few pages that made him who he is. Thought my patrons might like it. Thank you for your continued support. 

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The energy bolt flew overhead, cracking the air and flying inches from them. The hunt was reaching its 5th day, with no sign of letting up. They had already cut down a city’s worth of the Common-Type Defense Droids (CTDDs) but were running low on resources and resolve. Pushing forward, they vaulted over a concrete street barrier in near perfect synchronicity. Late stopped, pulling their packs together and checking their remaining supplies; while Wraith took small shots at the coming automaton horde.

“Three energy clips, six nano injectors, an upgrade chip, Hate’s core, and about 16 credits.” Late reported.

“Where did you obtain the credits?” Wraith asked.

“Stole them. Remember that corpse in the suit we passed by?” Late said flippantly.

“Toss them.” Wraith said between shots.

“Why? We might have a chance to catch a movie later.” Late said with a grin. “How will I afford the popcorn?” Late asked.

Dropping down and staring straight into Late’s eyes, Wraith spoke “Did you enjoy getting your quip in?”

“Yes.” Late said triumphantly. Wraith only stared. After a moment, Late relented. “No.” He reached deep in the bag and pulled out another clip, handing it to Wraith.

“Toss them.” Wraith commanded, reloading his rifle with a ka-chunk to punctuate it.

Wraith stood, his silver body reflecting the coming shots in dazzling patterns. He had fared far better than Late these last few days. Since killing their brother Hate, it seemed like the entire world had been set upon them. To some extent, it had. They had been labeled traitors by the Executives; rogue Elite-Defense Androids (EDAs) that were to be exterminated by any cost. That part was no exaggeration either, there had been little expense too great to track and barrage the two with CTDDs. There wasn’t much Wraith or Late couldn’t stand against one-on-one, except maybe their brothers; but this wasn’t one-on-one, this was two-on-everything. Wraith was better equipped for this, having amazing skills with any long-ranged weapon they could lay their hands on. Late was not nearly as useful here, nor was he in good a shape.

Late’s skills were not well suited for constant waves of combat. He imagined himself as the sneaky type, using shadows and subterfuge to hit his mark. It gave him the edge against Hate but even that encounter left its mark. Late looked down at his left arm, or where it used to be, and grimaced. He was a liability now, slowing Wraith down, and they both knew it. Late could still wield a sword in his right hand, but if they got in a situation where he needed to take more than a few swings, it would be too late for them. That thought made him chuckle, too ‘late’. His name was always a bad portent of things to come. Last of his 10 brothers, late to the party, late to understand the world, too late for himself and others.

A blue bolt struck and reflected off Wraith’s shoulder. He fell to one knee, reaching out to Late instinctively. Rummaging through the bag, Late produced a nanomachine injector and handed it over. Wraith grimaced as he plunged the needle into the opening, pressed the activator, and smiled weakly as it sealed the hole.

“We’re moving” he announced. “They’re trying to lead us back to the pods. I suggest we let them do exactly that. If we can destroy them, the Executives won’t have a chance to bring Hate back before his core expires.”

“You’re sure?” late asked.

“No. But we’re running low on options.” Wraith responded, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation.

They both readied themselves, then ran as fast as they could. The horde behind them let off a flurry of shots, striking their backs with a few glancing shots, which slowed but did not stop their escape. That was enough to convince Late, they were being corralled. If they made it to the pods, the Executives would have them placed back in, wiping their memories back to their factory settings. Wraith, Late, and Hate were simply too expensive not to try and salvage. It didn’t matter how much property they destroyed, how many CCTDs they slew, or how many lives the Executives ruined trying to track them down. They would have their EDAs back and under their control. That last lives part was why Late and Wraith had to fight, to stop their creators, to end the cycle of meaningless death. To try and wash their hands clean of all the blood.

They turned down corridors and tight alleys, just blocks away from the pods now. Late thought of his brothers while they ran. Wraith and Hate were with him; silver and gold, marksman and swordfighter, a rivalry from the beginning. He knew he would run into Doc, green and full of energy; the bastard took as much life as he saved. Fury and Fire, black and white, a shadow and light caster duo that likely could have stopped them whenever they wanted. Where were they both now, Late wondered. Omega, the red explosion was likely to have set bombs somewhere along the path; his brash attitude had to be seen by others for Omega to feel any joy in life. Wonder, the purple phantasm, could be anywhere; phasing into and out of whoever, or whatever, he pleased. Late considered Wraith briefly before deciding Wonder hadn’t infected him… yet. That left Hiyro, the progenitor of them all, the older brother and father figure to all the EDAs. Crystal blue, shining in the day or night, he was an example of everything Late wasn’t. Hiyro stood tall, projecting an awesome air about himself, competent with nearly every from of physical and mental combat, and an obedient lapdog of the Executives. The lack of his own obedience was the only thing Late could be proud about. The rest of him, his body coated black and yellow, an upgraded construction android refitted for espionage, he hated.

Before the loathing could set in, they burst into the square. It was a trap, just as Wraith expected. As soon as the barrage of energy bolts came their way, they both ducked behind an Executive’s statue’s pedestal. Late took joy in hearing so many wild shots hit the idol. The fire was constant, giving almost no chance for either one to run out and destroy the pods that lined the area. They both sat, contemplating their next move when a small bag fell from the sky, landing directly between them. Sharing a look of surprise, they reached for it and peered inside. Bombs, just enough for each pod, primed but not armed. They looked up in unison to see Omega, giving them a curt salute from a rooftop above, before he disappeared behind some cover. The nature of this unlikely ally would require further thought, if they lived through this.

“Let me do it.” Late said.

“No. Give me the chip.” Wraith commanded.

“Are you serious?” Late asked, digging for the chip.

“Yes. You know who is out there. You think you can place all these bombs, fight them off, and get out of there alive? Especially with your…” Wraith said, looking down at Late’s missing arm.

“That’s exactly why I should go. I’m already halfway there. If I die, so what? You can let everyone know about Hate. About the way the Executives are controlling everyone. I can do this.” Late responded.

“No.” is all Wraith gave back.

Yeah, well..” Late said, slipping the upgrade chip into his armor vest. “Want to bet on it?” Late reached into his bag, pulling out the credits from earlier and displaying them to Wraith.

“Didn’t I tell you to get rid of those?” Wraith asked impatiently.

“You got it boss!” Late said, throwing the shining chips into the air.

Late grabbed the explosives bag, just as every tracking sensor went wide for the flying credits. He ran for the pods, ducking and weaving the few stray shots that came his way. He had only a few seconds, but he could do this. Place, run, place, run, place, run, and within a blink he was at the last pod but was suddenly one bomb short. As he scrambled in the empty pack, shots came towards him, pinning him down at the last pod. Then he heard the voice he was dreading.

“Brothers!” the voice cut through the fire. Hiyro had arrived.

A blue light flashed in the corner of Late’s eyes, sending his head spinning back to the statue where Wraith was. Hiryo was there as well, holding Wraith into the air by his neck. Wraith’s rifle was on the ground and sparks flew from under Hiyro’s clenching hand. Nearly double their size, Hiyro was in no danger from Wraiths clawing hands and so he stared nonplussed at Late.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Late cried out.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Hiryo asked with a smile.

“I haven’t… figured all that out exactly.” Late responded.

“This isn’t what we were meant to do, Late. We were meant to be saviors of this world. Protectors, not its destroyers.” Hiyro said pleadingly. “Look at all the damage you two have done.”

“We’re contaminated.” Late replied. “What we’re doing, what we were meant to do, it’s not right. We are sworn protectors but all we do is oppress everyone else.”

“Oppress? No, Late, we cultivate. We protect the world, even from itself. Not everyone can be as far thinking as rational as the Executives. The world needs guidance, pruning; a gentle gardener to ensure the weeds don’t choke us all out.” Hiyro responded calmly. “We need all our little plants to produce fruit, don’t you understand that?”

A chocked sound came from Wraith, causing Hiyro to loosen his grip in response.

“I’m sorry, brother. What were you saying?” Hiyro asked

“I’m a dandelion.” Wraith said, lifting one arm to point at Hiyro’s face.

The hand opened up, peeling back in mechanical chunks to reveal a hidden blaster. There was a slight whine as the gun drew in energy and then expelled it directly into Hiyro’s face. Hiyro let out an anguished cry, grabbing his face and dropping Wraith, who scrambled on the ground for his rifle. Before he could get a grip on the gun, Hiyro kicked him against the statue pedestal, then repeated the kick but left his foot on Wraith the second time, pinning him against the stone. Hiyro grabbed the blaster arm and began pulling as Wraith slapped uselessly against it. In a blinding motion, Hiyro reached back, and then drew his arm down, coated it in pulsing blue energy, lobbing Wraith’s arm off at the shoulder. In slow motion, Late saw the arm tossed his way, skidding to a stop at his feet.

“I noticed you were missing one!” Hiyro laughed at Late. “Take it. I think it’s all we can salvage from this one. Once I’m done with him at least.”

“Late!” Wraith cried out.

“No, no.” Hiyro said. “Villains don’t get last words.” He brought his energy coated hand down and pushed it through Wraith’s stomach.

Wraith let out a robotic screeching and then struggled out “Late… you forgot something.”

Late looked down at the arm on the ground, scanning up it until he reached the hand. There, clasped in their fist was a miracle; the detonator. Looking up, he saw the realization on Hiyro’s face as they both looked at his shoulder. Wraith had pressed the missing bomb onto Hiyro as he had been impaled and was now holding the blue brute in place. Late scrambled for the hand, pulling back the fingers as Hiyro struggled against his own victorious blow. There was a heartbeat between the detonator being pushed and the world being overrun with flames. Late was sent flying back, crashing and cracking the last pod before he lost consciousness.

He awoke only moments later, watching a series of shadows approach him. He was damaged from the explosion, unable to awaken any of his limbs. From the smoke and flames, a towering blue figure appeared. Hiyro was stripped of his skin and armor on his entire right side, exposing harsh silver machines and pulsing lights underneath. His face was half kindhearted protector, half polished metal skull. Late blinked, each time the heroic demon was much closer than the last time. His other bothers were there, idling far in the background, letting Hiyro stand alone in this moment. Late was lifted by his collar, too broken to resist Hiyro’s power.

“Fix it.” Hiyro called to his side. From behind Hiyro, Doc appeared with Wraith’s arm. There was a stinging sensation as he grafted the limb onto Late.

“Finished.” Doc said curtly. “It’s not perfect but the pod should finish the rest of the job.”

“Good. Now go. I need to have a private word with our youngest brother.” Hiyro said.

Late tested his vocals, creating a weak voice.

“You’re… wrong...” Late said

“From your perspective.” Hiyro said. “But that’s because you’re malfunctioning.”

His half skull face bent into a smile that attempted warmth, but only gave dread.

“Look around us, Late. There is death, fire, destruction, ruin. Does this look like the work of someone good? Do you really think you are the hero here?”

“And… you… are?” Late asked with great effort.

Hiyro chuckled. “It is literally my name. How could I not be?”

He sighed and reached towards the pod, opening it up.

“We’re going to fix you, Late. Then we will fix Wraith. Then we will fix Hate. Finally, I’ll be repaired. I wish we could do this together… as a family. But,” he gestured around the destroyed square “you forced our hand on this.”

“No… please…” Late choked.

“It’s ok little brother. We’re going to take these memories away too. It will be like it never happened. We will fix you; I promise.”

The doors slid open and Late was thrown inside. The doors quickly shut, and the entire thing began to fill with nanomachine solution. The cracks in the glass cut Hiyro’s frame into fragments, his smiling skull looking at Late from dozens of eyes. Hiyro pressed his hand against the glass and yelled inside.

“I love you, Late! No matter how much you screw up!” he screamed over the filling pod’s operations.

Then he turned and walked away, just as the solution reached the top of the pod.

There was something wrong, Late could feel it. The nanomachines were repairing his body, entering his mind, but they were missing parts, missing objectives. Regardless, just as he felt his body coming together, he felt his mind tearing apart. His fight alongside Wraith was deteriorating, his deadly encounter with Hate, his time training with Hiyro.

“No!” he gurgled into the solution.

His mind slipped in his panic and more memories drifted away. The battle scars, the beach, that sunset. He held on, driving away his panic and fighting against the ‘repair’ of the nanomachines. Still, things leaked out of his past, the solution quietly eating them. The long drive out, the country field, the wish.

Wraith and Late stood out on the roof of the barn, far away from the city lights. They marveled at the stars together, both of them imaging what might be out there; both dreading what was coming next. A streak ran across the sky, wondrous as it was fleeting.

“It’s customary to make a wish.” Wraith said.

“Oh? What did you wish for?” Late asked.

“I cannot tell you. Those are the rules.” Wraith responded.

“Really? Why?” Late asked.

Alarm klaxons sounded in the pod. There was something terribly wrong. The machine was breaking down and breaking Late as well.

“Typical. Always following the rules.” Late quipped. “I want another sword.”

“Rules are important. They let us know where our true freedoms are.” Wraith said.

“I guess.” Late responded. Then, after a pause he said, “It’s not like you to believe in wishes though.”

“An interesting observation.” Wraith said.

Red lights flared and Late began to drift upwards. His mind hurt; his body hurt. He was being ripped apart, he was dying or being reborn here. Either option didn’t matter to Late as each one was nothing but constant agony. Late’s mind lost its hold, and he fell into the abyss.

“So, tell me then.” Late said, looking directly at Wraith.

“I cannot. It has already come true.” Wraith said with a look that could almost be mistaken for a smirk.

“Yeah?” Late said questioningly.

“I have a family.” Wraith said, staring back at Late. “What more could I ask for?”

“A better one?” Late said with a scoff.

“No.” Wraith said, looking back at the night sky. “I don’t think so.”