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Lorien legacies one
Around 1 year after the end of the war.
Five is sitting on the dock, as he tends to do. Scattered around him are a fishing rod and a knife. He is holding a flat pebble. His legs are hanging into the water, the waves moving back and forth.
After he got out of the mog slime, he had wanted to go live on a deserted island again, at least for a while. He didn’t even try to go back to his old island, Five knew that he wouldn’t be able to cross Rey’s sanctuary.
All in all, he’s alive. He is missing an eye, his hair is a tangled mess and badly needs a haircut, he has dark splotches on his body, he’s too skinny and has flabs of skin from losing weight too fast, he has dark circles under his eyes from sleep deprivation, his lips and mouth are dry, but he’s alive. All things considered, that’s a miracle.
He had completely stopped taking care of himself a month before, when Number Seven found him. She had been visiting the island everyday since then, always at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, always one hour at a time. Five had been fishing on the dock when he first happened, and now fished every time just to keep the routine.
His watch reads 2:57, it’s time to fish. Putting down the stone pebble he has been holding and turning back into flesh, he takes up the fishing rod next to him but doesn’t use it. He takes a deep breath of salty air and waits, skeptical.
Five had spent the majority of the month a stone statue sitting on the dock. He didn’t need to eat, drink, or breathe when using his Externa, although the effects of starvation showed on his body. He only turned back to being made of flesh when Number Seven showed up, or when he couldn’t bear the fatigue of using his legacy so much before starting again.
Or at least, that’s how things were before Four found Marina on the boat a week ago. After that, she just stopped showing up.
His watch read 3:04, she’s not coming today. Or anytime soon, he thinks. He knew that she wouldn’t be back the moment he heard their conversation, but he needed to be sure. Now he is.
The Loric Garde throws the flat pebble into the sea. It bounces five times. Smiling, he stands up and makes his way to the beach, away from direct sunlight. He takes the knife with him.
He drops cross-legged under the shade that the palm trees offer and leans against one of the trees. Five always got sunburnt easily, even when he lived on the other island with Rey. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs again. The whole island is echoing with the sounds of a madman pushed to his tipping point, and a few nestled birds take flight.
He keeps going long enough that he’d be back in a straitjacket if anybody heard him, but nobody did. Since his fate is in his own hands, he can do whatever he chooses to do now. Five, hysterical and with a knife at hand, considers dying. Of course he doesn’t choose it, both Rey’s and Ethan’s last words were about how he should do anything to survive and, in Ethan’s case, how he should think for himself and question everything he hears. If not for Ethan, the human who convinced him to join the mogs, he would still be on their side.
How ironic.
Five sighs, he needs to get out of this island. He’ll go insane if he stays. He also can’t go back into the world in this condition if he doesn’t want to attract attention. The cameras were on him only during his fight with Nine, and his face wasn’t clear so he could still blend in, and not face his fellow Garde until he felt like it, if ever.
With his knife, he slices through his arm and dense, black liquid oozes out. It hurts, but whining won’t solve anything. Massaging with his fingers, he lets as much slime out as possible. He continues with the side of his waist, of his leg, and with all the dark splotches he sees. Relief washes over him as the liquid washes out and for the first time in a long time, he's glad he made it. He's alive, motherfuckers.
"I'm alive, fucking Lorien" he says to the skies, refusing to think too much about his home planet.
He then washes the knife in the sea and runs to get some coconuts. He’s thirsty.
A week has passed- I am jogging around the island.
With Seven and what her presence means gone, I found it really easy to go back to my old island routine, the Reyless one.
This includes looking after the hut- which I built months ago but didn’t use for a while what with the whole "is Marina gonna kill me" thing, finding food-usually consisting of fruit and fish with some birds when I find them, and Rey’s incredibly monotonous physical training program.
I have done everything carefully today, taking my time before I go away tomorrow morning. A part of me doesn’t want to leave the monotony and security that comes with it, but I can’t stay here my entire life.
Why not? It’s so nice here.
I’ll go anyway.
But to do what?
I’ll figure it out once I’m out of here.
Suits you right.
I know, thanks.
I finish jogging, and before the mosquitoes can kill me, it’s time to train my legacies. Panting a little, I look up at the sky. The sun is about to set, ideal for not being spotted.
I hover just above the water for a few seconds, and then I’m off. I shoot into the sky and find myself above the pink clouds in seconds, I dive and fling myself around wildly- it’s exhilarating. I float in a way that looks like I’m sitting on a cloud, and look out.
The view is beautiful, the setting sun’s reflection glistening on the water and a warm sky painted orange, pink and blue against the black silhouettes of migratory birds.
I laugh and shake my head. Time to see how far up I can go.
The stars are up when I’m done, and I am shoeless on the sand. Slowly breathing in the salty air, I drop cross-legged and try to prepare for what I’m about to do. This has always scared me, and a part of me thinks I’m going to die, but I have to face my fears before leaving, won't be ready otherwise. I dig my hands into the sand.
Taking one last breath, I spur my legacy into action and I disintegrate. It’s very hard not to freak out when your very being is turning into and mixing with sand. Dying a piece of beach is one of my biggest fears. Always has been, since I found out it's possible.
Before my body is completely gone, I can’t bear it anymore and quickly revert back. I can feel the particles going back to their original place.
I am breathing heavily, I’m sweating cold. I clench my fist as the sand slides out. Drawing into the sand always helped me calm down. I use my mind to lift up a stick, and draw abstract shapes while catching my breath.
Then I make my way to the back of the hut, where there is a tank of water and an emptied out coconut shells, along with some aromatic herb soap I remember Rey taught me to make. I shower and crash in the hut, I can’t worry bout my leave or I’ll always stay here, tomorrow I'll think about tomorrow.
I’m being carried by the morning wind. Didn’t bother packing anything, there was nothing really important back there and I think Four threw away my rubber ball and my metal ball by now. He should have kept my hidden blade glove, but I won’t be knocking on his door asking for it any time soon.
Instead, it’s just me in a clean but faded military green shirt and grey shorts, keeping myself hidden above my clouds, with barely any wind in my face since I’m flying with it like I usually do.
It’s hours till I see the scattered islands of the Philippines, but I push it to Thailand. I find that a very big island- 100km or something- is on its western side, connected only by a bridge to the mainland. From what little Sotuheast Asian geography I learnt during my stay at the underground mog base, I guess it’s Chiang something.
As I lower myself onto one of the only skyscrapers there are- probably a tourist hotel, judging from the roof swimming pool and the clean, hygienic atmosphere. I want to do something useful after spending so much time doing nothing, like finding out some information.
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I make my way down the stairs, planning, scrapping ideas and planning again. I need money as well, I won’t be able to just fish my dinner anymore, though I could still sleep on rooftops like I used to if it came down to it. I know that I can’t let anything get to my head again, I’m not all high and mighty.
I’ve been the second highest ranking person in mog society, I’ve had power and all that, but it I shouldn’t have betrayed my species- my brothers- like that. All in all, I’ve also been an island kid and a street rat pickpocketing for fun and survival.
I’m on the ground floor before I know it. I’m about to make my way out through the lobby before I see the confused expression of the worker behind the desk.
She is unmistakably Thai, shoulder length hair dyed blonde and a very wide, uncertain smile on her lips.
“Hello” I say lamely, making my way towards the desk.
“Hello” She says with a strong accent
“How are you?” God, what not talking to anybody In months does to you.
“Iamfinethankyou” She says as if this is an English test.
“D-do you, well, do you know what Garde are?” I ask
“Excusa me, what?” She replies, throughly confused.
I float and cross my legs midair, saying: “Garde, this.”
“Ohhhh, Garade. I know. Same John Smith.” She doesn’t seem too shocked.
“ Yes! Yes, John Smith. Aliens, where are they?” I don’t know what I’m asking, but it’s a start. On my conversation skills, that is.
She frowned in thought and replied “Garade academy is in America but they are everywhere now, Mogodorian is all in pratet-Alaska”
Alaska? Finally, I have a destination! “Thanks, thank you!” I say too enthusiastically as I get back on my feet and bolt out the door.
“Have a nice vacation here in Phuket!” I can still hear her say.
I walk out into an alley littered with expensive restaurants, souvenir shops and Family Marts. Overhead, there are a few low hanging wires and poles for electricity. The alley has only a few tourists strolling around, one of which is a middle aged, bulky Russian man that has a visible wallet tucked into his pockets. Trying my luck, I budge it a bit with my telekinesis but of course he feels it, I'm out of practice. He pats his pants to make sure it’s still there.
I’m an idiot, better try again.
Turning left even though I have no idea where it leads. I find myself in an alley of bars and strip clubs closed during the day. There is a Thai hooker not much older than me, in her early 20s, cautiously wrapping herself around a white middle aged man. He has a beer in his hand but looks as if he’s already drunk, easy target. I can’t help but to notice just how fat his wallet is, tucked into his back pocket.
I make my way over to them, and the girl looks even more uncomfortable than before if that’s possible. The man, on the other hand, doesn’t notice me at all even as I quickly and delicately take his wallet from him, putting it in my own pocket. I keep walking forward till I’m at the end of the alley and sit cross-legged on the floor, looking through the wallet’s contents.
Six 1000 Baht bills, four 100s, and more 20s than I could care to count. That and an ID. I pocket the cash but leave the ID and a couple 20s. I then walk back to them, wallet in hand. Now the girl is excusing herself, andI just use my telekinesis to put the wallet back in his back pocket. Intoxicated as he is, he never noticed anything. The hooker didn’t see as well, as she had her back turned and was walking briskly away.
I go back again, jogging to catch up. She starts walking quicker but I go right in front of her, blocking the way and holding out 3 thousands and a whole bunch of 20s.
“You basically did all the work there, have your share”
She takes the money without a words, and I am about to go exchange it into dollars when she holds out a little vial of black fluid.
Shocked, I pocket it the same way she took the money I gave her. And leave.
I am flying in the gelid winds of Alaska when I see it.
But luckily nobody in the military jet seems to have noticed me. I duck under a cloud and follow it, poking my head off to the side from time to time to make sure I’m still on track. It’s frigid here, even with my heavy winter clothing and my-fingerless, of course- gloves, I bring my hand up to a blueish bead on my winter cap and turn into plastic. The good thing is that it’s all fireproof and light grey, hopefully I’m camouflaged here in the shadowed snow.
Yes, I blew all my money on fire proof wet season clothing.
Finally the small plane is flying over what seems to be an office of some sort, attached to a gate that spans as far as the eye can see. Still following the jet, I can see a couple different groups of mogs huddled together, I decide head for the smallest one. If worse comes to worse, I’d rather not be against too many of them. I wait inside a cloud till I can’t hear the jet anymore, then I try to dry myself at least a little before giving up and descending a piece of plastic.
Seems no mog has noticed me yet. They are all staying close to the bonfire and looking towards the ground. I am hovering a good twenty metres above them and notice that the skinniest and less muscular one has incredibly long hair for a mog. I suddenly recognise Adam, and Rex- who is sitting beside him, a bit further away from the fire than everybody else.
That really doesn’t surprise me, Rex can withstand almost anything. What kinda surprises me though, is how he stands up and just walks away towards the vast and desolate tundra. Luckily for me, the fog gets thicker and I don’t worry about being discovered as I float alongside him, but ten metres in the air.
Rex just keeps walking as a bit of wind starts to pick up, the rest of the group barely visible behind him. I descend right in front of him so as not to alarm him too much, and he stops abruptly once I enter his field of view. His eyes are confused, but the moment I land they glimpse with recognition.
He stares at me, eyes wide and attentive. I’m right in front of him, at arm’s length. Nothing is said for a good minute. Then-
“You are supposed to be dead” he said. “Five, I though you drowned”
“I drowned. I lived. I’m sorry for the long wait” and I mean it. Rex has been something akin to a friend to me, I first met him after Eight’s death. He saw me carry away his body, but did not say anything to anyone about it. After that, we’ve had conversations on the regular till the fighting got serious. It was Rex who caught me in a Skeeter after I tried to help Ella escape and Belo- Setrakus Ra cancelled my Avex.
I owe so much to this man, but I didn’t even try to contact him for so long. Suddenly, the muscular mogodorian ex-officer hugs me, and I hug him back. We both pull away after a couple seconds.
“So” I say with my hands in my pockets, swinging my body weight from the base of my foot to my toes and back. Nervous tick.
“Uh, anything I can do for you here? Help out somehow? What’s going on?”
“All the mogs other than Adam and me have to stay here in those detention centres at all times, until they decide what to do with us. Most of them are still holding on to old values, but some are renouncing them and seeing the Great and Good book and Setrakus Ra for what they really are” This perks up my interest.
“I’ll stay here too now that I’m at it.” I say with a smile
“Let the heresy begin”
“Why would you ever do that? How!? And you can’t stay here anyway, mog only base.” I smile at his incredulity.
“Most people think I’m dead for now, and they can’t really tell the differences between me and you from up there. You know that potent cameras can’t be exposed to the elements, and, I’ve studied the Good book. You forget I was Ra’s right hand men, my word has to have some value left."