Work Text:
Five minutes and thirty-two seconds defined a piece of Gerd Frentzen’s career. A piece of motorcycling history that was now defined by him with that time at the Rosen Mountain pass. The motorcyclist zooming down the road within the past committed the road as a prayer that maybe he too would be defined by this mountain pass. A prayer. That was a word that Hermann Saltza was unfamiliar with, a word that wasn’t carved into his blood nor was it a part of his life. Stubbornness however was a word he never uttered to himself, yet a trait noticed by others. Yesterday, Hermann had been fired from Gerd’s racing team, by Gerd himself. The season was gonna get tough, and the racers would be even tougher. Funny, coming from Gerd considering the antics the two of them would get whenever they raced together. Now? Gerd told him that there was a path for Hermann. A path for Hermann alone.
Did that mean a path without racing? Motorcycles were such a part of Hermann’s life, the thought only made his hands wrap around the handlebars even tighter, fueling his anger, his confusion, and his sorrow. The last part he could never acknowledge, but damn it didn’t hurt any less. Under the guise of needing fresh air, here he wanted his path. The path of breaking Gerd’s record, that maybe he could prove he was tougher. That he was still worthy of racing, that his path would’ve included Gerd as his brother from another life.
He was at the 2-minute mark as he pushed up the hill. His determination pumped his heart as adrenaline was now his blood behind the motorcycle. His mind was on the road, leaning within the curves of the winding road. Nobody came onto this road in the early morning before the sun rose from its midnight slumber. That would be another accomplishment, he determined within his mind. He had the lights on, so his path would perhaps illuminate his future.
He was so focused on his past, it was all he had with his motorcycling. The path of the future terrified his present. His teeth clenched in denial as his violet eyes focused on the curves of the road. For a moment there was nothing, but the road and his heart. Yet had the lights not illuminated the path, perhaps he would’ve collided with the large daggers of pink earth that consumed the turn at his three-minute mark, with his eyes snapping out and widening at the sudden sight. In a panic and a gasp, he tried to stop his motorcycle, but it slid out under him and only rolled against the concrete road. The motorcycle was lost as the speed at it carried him was like a skipping stone against the concrete lake. The motorcycle smashed against the daggers setting alight, a crimson fire lit the area he inhabited, the fire defiant against the cold blue morning. Damn it all, why? First his firing, and now the destruction of his first motorcycle, the one he had since the beginning of his and Gerd’s time racing.
Hermann Saltza lay motionless for a moment, yet his heart was still pumped with adrenaline as it combated with his blood trying to cope for stability. After a minute of letting the pain deep in Hermann crawl, his hands reaching out for the ground pressed flat as he pushed himself out slowly as his muscles and nerves ached from the sudden impact. He couldn’t feel anything was broken, though he felt his ribs had been hammered but not at the point of breaking. His lungs had been cushioned yet they felt tender as he breathed out the adrenaline and inhaled the sweet air. The ritual of breathing slowly reminded his body that it was still human, that Hermann Saltza at the end of the day wasn’t a racer seeking adrenaline-fueled thrills and fame for his passion for motorcycling, nor was he a racer seeking wins for his own approval.
His widened eyes of shock gazed up at the crimson fire, yet the daggers remained. As his eyes focused, he realized they weren’t daggers. No, they were Agates marbled with dark and light pinks that danced with black and white that devoured part of the area where Hermann had crashed. They remained still and motionless, where they could be classified as monoliths of oddities. How long had they been here? Where did they come from? What the hell? All of these questions ran through his head. Minerals didn’t grow overnight, nor did they grow out in the open. As he gazed, Hermann noticed from the corner of his eyes that the crystalized monoliths weren’t single, that they were in the process of a trail of the same colors, that led into the woods close to the road, leading into the mountain. He dug into his pockets and found his phone, which was a bit cracked but usable. He needed it, as he turned on the flashlight, blessing the only time he decided to charge his phone the night before he woke up.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep from Hermann’s forced awakening in his attempt to beat a record, or it was his curiosity about where they led. Or perhaps they were both. Either way, he forced himself to stand up and trekked into the forest. It was only when he cleared the brush and shone a light into the woods did he see the extent of the crystallization. They arose from the earth and even crawled up the trees, their colors swirled within and overloaded to a point where no two Agates were the same in color or in the synchronicity of stature. Little ones dotted the veins of the soil while others stood as tall as the trees. As Hermann reached deeper into the forest, the full visage of the consuming crystallizations only magnified.
No longer did the crunch under his boots, for they fell silent as the grass slowly became hardened Agates The confusion in Hermann’s grew even greater, while his heartbeat was like a tempered drum. The Rosen Mountain pass wasn’t known for roses as the name translated to, it meant that the roads had thorns in the form of sharp turns like the ones Hermann tried to pass. There were many accidents there too, Gerd Frentzen was the only one who came out of the mountain with not only his record but also his bones and brain intact. While he and Hermann were the only ones who rode the mountains as a self-made race, the truth was that the Rosen Pass was abandoned by travelers who would rather take longer routes if it meant remaining alive and in one piece.
Though in all the time that Gerd and Hermann raced on this mountain, even on separate occasions, neither of them had ever encountered anything like this. And it had been so long since they raced here, given they were busy trying to prepare for the next season of racing on Gerd's team. Could it be that the Agates slowly grew in that time as they remained from here? If so, then how? A demoniac couldn’t have done this, sure, they assimilated anything related to technology, but there’s no way they could do anything like this. What was a demoniac?
It was not an existence that was familiar to humanity’s naivete. At least not yet.
Finally, at a clearing of the trees, he sees it. Well, he didn’t know what he saw, and he took his helmet off, the wind slowly swaying, blowing his maroon hair with it. With his eyes, he saw part of what could’ve been an old building. A building that was slowly being consumed by the infinity called time, only for a second consumer of black and pink marbled in the structure of agates to eat half of what remained. This was what his eyes saw, but his mind couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of the oddity that he was currently witnessing. He had every thought screaming at him to call Gerd and ask him to come here, perhaps so that Hermann wouldn’t be the only one confused. He almost did when he was about to turn off the flashlight on his phone and he heard something faint.
Beep. Beep. Beep. This steady sound echoed with its vibrations carried out because they were so in sync with the agate monoliths as they rang. For a moment, they sounded like wind chimes, but they were mechanical in nature. And he knew what they were, part of the racing industry had a cost in exchange for the thrill of speed and always did cost the body pain. Many of the crew and Gerd's team in one way or another ended up in the hospital. The beeping had to have come from a Vital Signs Monitor. There was no way, Hermann told himself. What way? That someone was down here. Someone alive. The steady beeping indicated a heartbeat-- it had to.
Hermann Saltza had a couple of options: 1, to go into unknown ruins and find out who they were. 2, call Gerd and ask him for help. 3. Wait? Could he wait? What if that person, whoever they were was down there? And they were hurt? What if by the time he decided it was too late, they were dead? Hermann still wasn’t sure about the second choice. It was early, maybe around 5 am. Gerd was probably asleep by now, and if he called, Gerd would ask why Hermann was out here and it would be a matter of pride admitting the truth. Hermann was a stubborn and proud man, even with Gerd. So it left him with the last option: venturing into the unknown ruins himself. Normally Hermann would’ve just chosen and be done with his decision.
Something was different though. For the first time, he didn’t know what to do. He stood there, his heart hanging in his chest as the wind gently howled around them. His hands moved slowly against the impulse in his brain to stay still, as he turned off the flashlight mode and dialed Gerd’s number.
After pressing submit, he waited as it dialed. The few seconds of ringing felt like infinity playing with the silence of dread. The droning only made Hermann even more nervous.
At least until it clicked, and Hermann heard a groan. “Hermann, what the hell?”
“Hey, Gerd. Listen I know it’s pretty early--
“No Shit.”
Gerd was in no mood whatsoever, given it was 6 in the morning and this was one of the few times when his girlfriend Jill had a day off. Behind the other end of the phone, he’s groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose trying to wake up from the lull of the sandman’s dreamscape. He was also trying to make sure he didn’t wake up Jill, who had been nestled close beside him. Their work often left them apart, but their times together when spared were often the moments Gerd cherished the most. So whatever reason Hermann had for calling him this early in the morning had better be a good reason or else there was gonna be a problem by the time Gerd went back to sleep and woke up again. A big one. One that would end in silent wishing for a knuckle sandwich.
“You know Rosen Pass? The one where you
“Spit it out or I’m hanging up--”
“When was the last time you’ve been there? Is it possible for crystals to just grow out of the ground like daisies?”
“A year maybe? Look I’m not in the mood to go--Wait did you say crystals?”
That sounded weird. From what Gerd understood, crystals were formed in the earth’s crust via liquid beginning to solidify from liquid or vapor, but never did he hear about crystal growing out of the ground so easily as flowers could.
“Could you send me a picture?” He mumbled half of an ask. Hermann nodded over the phone and momentarily flashed a picture of the agates. Herman didn’t know they were agates, assuming all crystals looked like. Gerd learned about minerals and the various structures in the form of gifts he would give to Jill. While trying to find what diamonds signified her birthday, he ended up being sucked into the abyss of minerals while surprisingly learning more than he bargained for. In all that time he learned the differences between diamonds and crystals. Because of that, he could tell from the photo that those weren’t crystals. They were agates, somehow polished already. He squinted at the photo trying to comprehend what exactly he was seeing.
“They look like agates, but the composition is definitely off. But that’s not the point, they shouldn’t even be there, to begin with, they grow in volcanoes” He explained, growing concerned. He began to formulate an idea of why he was there, to begin with, but the concern of the possible danger that Hermann was beginning to dawn on Gerd and bring his mind into a slowed state of panic. “Hermann where are you at now?”
Hermann meanwhile was only growing confused as Gerd explained. When did he have time for all that in between coaching him and practicing for the races? Crap all this thinking made his head hurt, rubbing the back of his head. The beeping was a consonant. Steady. And for a split second when the phone was silent after he sent that photo?
For a split second, the beep and his heartbeats were one and the same forever infinite. It was an invitation into the vast unknown, a gentle welcome that begged his heart for whoever remained down below. His daze and the synchronization ended when he was snapped out of it by Gerd’s question.
“Huh?” he snapped back to the phone. “I’m at an old building not far off the road. Though I’m not sure if it’s even a building anymore, it’s like it’s been eaten up. I think someone’s inside though, it sounds like there’s a vital signs machine too.”
Gerd could hear it too. It was faint, like somebody’s Gameboy late at night and Hermann was right. It only added more to the already crazy morning, and he regretted answering.
“Look I’ll come over, but don’t do anything until I get there ok?” He asked as he slowly slipped away from Jill and the space they shared.
“Ok,” Hermann answered, though unsure. He sighed as the call ended as peered into the building. The beeping began to haunt him until he cursed it all and descended into the building impulsively turning back the flashlight on.
Immediately he noticed that even the inside of the decaying building was being consumed as well. The old wood creaked under him, yet he needed to take care so as to ensure the floor wouldn’t collapse underneath his weight. Only time knew how long this building had stood and only time knew when the building would collapse, or when the ruins would become a crystallized castle of ruin. A beautiful one at that, even at the possible horror as nature and ruin was overtaken by marbled unknowns.
As he shone his light, he noticed that the magnitude only decreased, the jagged crystals becoming smaller and smaller until they were only veins within the wood and within the walls, all of it leading to a large cabinet. Whoever was here had tried to block something, maybe to keep something out? Or rather something in? Hermann turned the flashlight off the second time, placing it back into his coat pocket. He approached the cabinet from one of the sides with determined intent. Placing two hands on the side of the cabinet he pushed with all his might, groaning in the effort. It didn’t budge. Again, Hermann pushed with everything he had, even putting his shoulder into it. His body was somewhat sore before, but now it aches with this. On the third try, he took a couple of steps back only to charge at the side with full force.
The cabinet was lifted by its two heels and came crashing down, its boards and glass broke upon impact. It worked but Hermann mentally kicked himself in the teeth, with his shoulder feeling worse for wear that amplified the previous pain. At the time, he didn’t want to do that ever, but in hindsight, there will be many more instances like that. That’s ingrained deep down. It was a fiery part of him that wouldn’t change.
“What the hell…” He started as he peered into space. It was illuminated by the veins in the ground. It was a tunnel, made of concrete but veined with the same swirling agate. He could hear it, the beeping echoed down the stairs. Hermann descended those stairs without hesitation. He followed the steps, rushing down despite the deep cuts that made it steep; he didn’t care if he---Never mind, because he had slipped on the third to last step that crumbled under his feet. He lost his footing and he stumbled for a moment then he fell. He should’ve fallen onto the concrete floor where it would’ve been the end. Instead, he fell into something cold and wet. It was somewhat deep, for a moment he was submerged in white milky water that cushioned him. Yet it activated his fight for desperation as he pushed his head up again. Water was in his ears and his part of his hair was soaking wet as he spat it out. He could’ve stayed and retreated back to the ruins but...He was so close and he couldn’t give up now. When he looked around, he could see the veins of the agate bleeding into the ceiling, becoming tiny bioluminescent stalactites. The water was milky white with pink lotuses floating along the water in bliss. All of this was a scientific error, everything happening was a defiance of scientific logic that had been established for many decades since the apple fell on Newton’s head. None of the agate or stalactites should be possible, but here they are in their rebellious glory by existing.
A glorious existence rooted in the horror of the unknown.
Hermann wasn’t as aware but caring about it would’ve made his brain hurt. He could hear the beeping closer, so he staggered to his feet and threaded through the water down the hall. It came up to his knees and he was lucky his phone was on the right side of his coat when he fell on his left. The lotuses were forming a trail that led him to the hanging aechmea fasciata. He had been treading through the water for an estimated time of six minutes before the tunnel opened up to a large cavern with light cascading down. Immediately he winced at the bright, blinking a few times until his eyes adjusted to the light. What he saw next shocked him to his core. This cavern was roughly bigger than a two-bedroom apartment. Yet it was filled with the lotus decorating the water and the aechmea dangling above the ceiling.
What met in the middle between the earth and the water was a small, elevated bed with a glass cover. In it, was a woman, and cords attached to her arms, chest, and parts of her face. She looked so still, but her chest rose slowly up and down, indicating a state of deep slumber. Behind the bed, was the monitor, slowly beeping as it watched her heart rate. Hermann stared in shock and stood for a second. It was a wonder he hadn’t gone mad yet. Maybe he had and he didn’t realize it. Perhaps his madness was something that led him here. Perhaps now it was a madness that was ingrained from the very beginning, from the impulsiveness and the rebellious nature within his body. The part of him that never gave up all this time, could that be the madness of his determination?
No.
It wasn’t determination but the fear of losing all he had only known. And now, instead of his instincts focused on finding out, his instincts became that of concern and worry towards this woman whom he had never met in his life, and he dashes. When he approached he saw more details of the woman and the glass case she was in.
The woman was clad in black, contrasting with all of the pinks, with spaghetti straps. In a mint green palette, the individual swirls akin to targets. Two laid upon her clavicle and sternum, two more on her stomach. With matching fingerless sleeves, the swirls were molded into double ringlets that scattered into a sparse pattern. Light azalea pink was the color of the sleeping woman’s hair, with small thin strands falling down her face. She was alive, her chest slowly heaving up and down as she lay dormant with her eyes peacefully closed. Like a modern Snow White, she could very well be in a sleeplike death. But she was alive, and that was enough for Hermann to try and set her free. He approached the case, hurriedly looking for the control board. Normally in cases of comatose, the control board would be upon the wall, but unfortunately, the walls were of carved earth, never of technological wiring pouring its wired veins into the wall. He wasn’t paying attention to his hands. He should’ve. His hand trailed to an indented circle carved into the case. The next thing he felt was a thin sheet of ice coating his hand followed by pain.
He grunted in pain, his instinct was to pull back. He tried, but something metallic locked his hand in place. Circular jaws clamp down on his wrist, as inside the blood pool. And the coffin this snow white had laid hummed. It stirred as its circuits became alive at the taste of blood, finally, its job was now over. The blood that was spilled was something it devoured, red swirls burning into the metal, glowing. Computers once dormant, reminders of a decade lost long ago, turned on, and green codes flooded the screens as it commences their programmed tasks.
Hermann couldn’t fathom what was happening. How could he? With machines aberrant to the cellphones and motorcycles he was so familiar with. How could machinery be this way? How could it be so vampiric in nature?
The machine that sapped his blood did not answer as the glass coffin hissed, and the circular jaws released his hand from its metallic grasp. Tubes and wires of medical nature ascended from the coffin, transforming into needles and pads. The needles gently pierced the skin in her arms and injected a clear liquid, as the computers declared.
Administering adrenaline at 0.2 milliliters.
Nothing made sense in this uncanny twilight, as Hermann's eyes widened in horror, unable to free himself from his metallic prison. He groaned and whimpered, struggling, until the prison released him, and the struggle was no more as he fell into the water from the suddenness. He tried to breathe, and get a hold of himself as he inspected the hand that the machines fed from. The interior of his hand all had vertical slashes, from his fingertips all the way to the center of his palm, connecting the center to that of a morbid star of flesh and blood.
The chamber of MODUS’ horrors would not give him a chance to breathe. Not yet, as he heard a female voice stir and groan. The woman. Hermann scampered to rise to his knees and onto his standing legs, hastily returning back to the mechanic's coffin.
She was awake, the azalea-haired woman was awakened once more, her chest slowly rising up and down, and her face scrunching as she struggled back to consciousness. She slowly opened her eyes, and Hermann witnessed mint-green eyes staring back.
Never had he witnessed such soft eyes.
She tried to sit up, but she was too weak. Hermann rushed to support her, with one arm supporting her back
“H-hey are you alright?” He stammered softly. “Do you have a name?”
“A-Amanda…,” Was all she could speak, before she passed out once more in his arms.
She couldn’t stay in here. She needed help, major help. She needed to get out of there and onto that road, where they would wait for Gerd and take her to the hospital for treatment. That was Hermann’s priority. That was a priority he was going to execute with every second he had. He set her down gently on the table once again and detached the needle from her flesh along with the other cords. He intended to carry her out, as he began to wrap his arms around her back and under her legs.
But…something was wrong. It was like she was anchored to the table. Hermann assumed it was because of some restraints, hidden underneath her long dress. Hermann uttered an apology as he pulled some of the dress up to inspect her legs and to undo any of them, when he stopped. He froze at the sight of horror.
Her legs. Her legs were that same agate, the agate monoliths that ate the road. Pink, Black and White marbles. Hermann looked over the coffin and saw that the marble agate bled into the machinery. That it bled into the walls.
That it bled into the earth above as it did below.