Chapter Text
"Put on the headset please. This should only take a few moments."
Chosen reluctantly slipped the device over his eyes. It was heavier than he'd expected, and he struggled to keep his head upright, but at least he could still see. Somehow, he managed to turn and look at Vic. He froze.
Projected on the wall, starkly clear, was… his own view. The screen in the image went all the way down, like a mirror showing itself a reflection. The effect was dizzying. Chosen staggered, the world lurching around him as he toppled forwards and landed roughly on his hands and knees.
"Play it back." Vic commanded someone Chosen couldn't see, and then it was as if the machine was shuffling through his memories, dragging each one to the forefront of his mind in perfect clarity.
…
Gasping for breath beneath a storm drain, trembling in the cold, he waits. He can't risk using his fire. Not now-
…
A shout from below draws his attention and he stops, hovering in midair and scanning the streets below. A pedestrian stares as a chunk of concrete hurtles towards them. Without thinking, Chosen fires, and the rock is blasted to harmless bits of rubble. The pedestrian gazes up at him in wonder and he feels sick-
…
He stumbles through the undergrowth of the forest, struggling to take to the air amidst the dense canopy as bullets whiz past him. They've found him again-
…
He looks up in horror at the burning gash he'd instinctively sliced across the storefront. He can hear shouting, see sticks halt their walks to stare at him in horror. A muted brown stick in a green apron is cursing at him. They throw something large and brick-shaped, and suddenly his head is spinning and all he can do is run-
…
Pulling his hood over his head as he makes his way down the street, he spots his own face on a poster and stops in his tracks, grocery list long forgotten. He's wanted. But for what? He finally manages to force his legs to work again, and sprints home-
…
Alone in the empty darkness of his silent house, he burrows deeper into the tangle of patchwork blankets and curls up into a ball, silent tears streaming down his face as he tries in vain to drift off to sleep. His hands won't stop shaking-
…
On trembling legs he runs, body throbbing with pain. The singed grass of the meadow brushes his legs as he forces himself to lift his head and behold the terrible sight. Dark's lifeless eyes stare back at him from the bottom of the crater, inky darkness pooling around his broken form. Chosen squeezes his eyes shut, black spots dancing in his vision, and sinks to his knees, jagged sobs wracking his entire body. He can't bring himself to move-
…
A burst of green light, and then a horrible silence-
…
"You traitor!" Chosen catches a glimpse of tears in Dark's onyx eyes as he lashes out with pitch-black blades. "I'm going to do what I should have done all those years ago and destroy you!" A blade catches Chosen at the throat and he chokes, feeling the burn of the virus-
…
Dark's wide grin gleaming as he gestures to his horrible creation hanging on the wall. "Isn't it amazing, Cho? We can rule the world, you and me!" Chosen can't bring himself to speak; horror clogs his throat. Dark, satisfied, takes the virabot and-
…
Atop their roof, Chosen rests a weary head on Dark's warm shoulder as the two gaze up at the stars far above-
…
"Come on then, Cho!" Dark cackles as Chosen soars towards him over the choppy waves of the bay, flaming fist outstretched. "We're sparring, not having a leisurely swim!" Chosen grits his teeth and strikes-
…
Everything was burning. Chosen stared down at the screaming figures below, cold dread rooting him to the spot. He could see a woman trapped beneath a chunk of rubble. Should he help? He-
…
Fire, again. Chosen can hear someone shouting a name-
…
A cool cobblestone cube resting in the palm of his hand. He gazes down at it, uncomprehending-
…
"That was incredible!" Dark's vibrant grin flashes wide, and Chosen feels as though electricity is surging up his spine, energizing him. "We really showed that bastard!" Chosen is free, and Dark is here, and he thinks he'd like to see Dark smile more. They soar through the tunnel-
…
"I'm going to destroy you!" A maniac shout. Chosen braces for impact-
…
Stick Freedom! Click Here! Chosen desperately lunges for the pop-up, but Alan is faster; snatching it and dragging it out of reach, he taunts him. Chosen strains against his shackle, clawing feverishly at the icon. Then, Alan clicks, and a burst of flame shoots from Chosen's outstretched hand, burning the pop-up to a crisp.
…
Darkness. Chosen hugs his knees to his chest, sobs echoing in the inky black. He is alone again.
…
Alan is typing, attention diverted. Chosen, weak with hunger, strains forwards, the chain digging into his ankle. His fingers manage to close around a question mark, and he eagerly gulps it down. How long has it been since he's eaten?
…
Pain. It's the worst he's ever felt it. His ankle feels like it will be ripped from his body any moment now, as Alan carelessly yanks him around by the shackle. Then, miraculously, he is released. Chosen tumbles to the floor in a sobbing heap, unable to muster the energy to even lift his head. His vision blurs, agony consuming him.
…
He's been in darkness for 259231.4 seconds. Or has it been 259321.5 seconds? He's losing count now, numbers blurring together.
…
"Let me go!" he shouts, his voice hoarse. He strains against his bindings, but it's no use. Begging is futile.
…
Then, with a jolt, Vic yanked the headset off his face and he scrambled backwards, straining against his cuffs. Chosen gasped, a rush of instinctive terror flooding his senses. "Alan-" he choked out, uncomprehending.
"I see." Vic's expression was stormy. "You were a… victim of Alan as well. I suppose I underestimated his determination to torment sticks. Although from what it seems, you were far luckier than I."
Chosen froze. "Wait… you were his creation too?"
"Oh yes." Vic grimaced. "I was his little plaything, his little victim. I know what it feels like to have my skull crushed, my spine snapped, my lungs filled with water. I know what death feels like, Chosen One. He never showed me the same mercy he showed you."
Mercy. Three years of maddening purgatory. It was mercy. Vic was Alan's victim too.
"Vic…" It dawned on Chosen then, that horrible realization. "Victim. Is that your-"
"Do not call me that." Victim snarled, eyes flashing with a dangerous rage. "Not unless you wish to be punished. Do you understand?"
"Right. Sorry." Chosen dipped his head, ashamed.
"I suppose I should be lenient. Although Alan was far kinder to you, your time with him must have been traumatic all the same." Vic gazed at him with a strange expression. "But not to worry. You are safe now. At Rocket Corp, we pride ourself in treating our employees fairly, and that includes you. You will be provided with food, shelter, employment, and a chance to atone for your crimes."
Safe. Was it really that easy?
"Is this some kind of trick?" Chosen couldn't help but ask. "Just yesterday, your employees were hunting me down with lethal weapons. Why are you suddenly being nice to me?"
"I am not a monster, Chosen One." Vic said softly. "I am giving you a chance to prove that you aren't a monster either."
Chosen said nothing. Guilt cascaded over him like icy water, clear and heavy and sobering.
Victim snapped their briefcase shut, breaking the terrible silence. "I must go now. I will send someone to check in with you later."
"Wait!" Chosen exclaimed as Vic turned to leave. "If I'm going to be living here, can I at least get my things from home?" He'd left his ring on his nightstand, next to the photo of him and Dark.
"Your home?" Vic echoed, seeming to be momentarily taken aback. They blinked, then frowned. "I'm afraid we can't release you until we know you're not a danger to the interspace. I can send a worker to retrieve your belongings. Where is your… home?"
"It's…" Chosen hesitated. "Never mind."
"I can assure you," Vic's voice softened slightly. "We will not destroy your home. That would be senseless cruelty. I just need a general location so I can send someone there to look."
Chosen bit his lip, wavering between caution and the desire for his familiar things. "It's the house by the bay, north of the city." he finally admitted. "The code for the door is 2011." He'd have to change it if when he was released, but it would be a small price to pay for the comfort the ring would bring.
"Understood." Vic brought a finger to their earpiece and spoke into it. "This is your boss speaking. Retrieve all personal belongings from the house in quadrant four, and make sure to keep them intact. Entry code is 2011. Do not damage the property. Over."
Chosen let out a small sigh of relief. He'd thought… what? That Vic would send someone to burn the house down? That they'd order all of Chosen and Dark's possessions to be dumped in the sea?
Still, when Vic stepped out again and Chosen watched them go, there was an odd twisting dread settling in his gut.