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Today, two months ago, three weeks in the future, it was the Roaring Twenties of New-New York, or perhaps, Old-New York—before the Gears, before magic. A mansion on a hill, views of the waterfront through the arched windows of Art Deco rooms, veins of gold and angles amongst black marble, ferns uprooted from their jungle homes, bowing in pots. It was the New Year’s, or rather, a little before it, and a party was being held. Shadowed and masked figures, going through the motions of happiness, all of whom turned, marionettes on a string, to raise a glass at the hostess, who paid the crowd no heed, leading a man along. Blood-red, her dress billows and bleeds across the floor, black sequins sparkling, juxtaposed by a white and black suit, open to reveal blue skin. She sat, the other figure kneeling beside, a collar and leash connecting the two. Leather and diamonds; a girl’s best friend.
“Bored?” said Happy Chaos, as the crowd started moving once more, the party picking up again. He eyed them, noting that at times they would blur together, multitudes existing in the same spot at the same time, before the illusion of reality reasserted itself, forcibly separating them with jitters. “This is the world you wanted to stop by while we were hopping around? Seems a little low budget.”
Levelling a gun, the replica, finger on the trigger, he took an idle shot. The bullet barely missed a blonde man with long hair, and passed through the brains of a domino-masked figure instead, head exploding into smoke, the rest of their body following as they fell to the ground. For but a moment, there was a body sublimating, and then in the next, there was none. Their conversation partner, a dark-haired woman, continued talking to thin air. “Maybe try populating it with more realistic replicas next time, boss.”
“You should know by now it's not my choice to make them like this, it's the timeline. Or did you forget all that knowledge after our last jump? Did that version of the Nightless actually damage your pretty little head?” drawled I-No, examining her nails, long and pointed.
“Eheheh, maybe! I can’t tell myself, I’ve amassed quite the collection of that for it. Regardless, this isn’t a normal parallel universe, this is more of an error state that derives its being from the hearts of those who created it. Which is one of us, in this case. I wonder who?”
“Tch, yours. I would have made them able to feel pain at least,” between her fingers I-No conjured a cigarette holder, already filled, its tip glowing. Taking a long drag and exhaling wispy rings, almost lost in the dim lights. “But you're the one person here who can. How disappointing. Did you really think I’d be entertained by this?”
“You forget about yourself,” said Chaos, cheerily, earning him a scowl. Of course, I-No was never a masochist. She preferred to hold the whip. “Well in that case, there’s always the opposite of that. Pleasure,” Chaos winked, leaning forward and tilting his head. Exposing his neck, the soft vulnerable skin there, beyond his collar. “Don’t you want to have your way with me?”
“No. Do I have to punish you for suggesting that?” she took a puff, gesturing at him with the holder. A little star dancing in the darkness. “You terribly naughty boy.”
“If the title fits, why not?” Chaos replied, still holding his position, awaiting his punishment. It came as a sting across his neck, burning, as she stubbed her cigarette out on him. Nerves primed, senses receiving input, arcing through him. A hiss and a moan, a reddened, blackened spot that he could fade immediately, but did not, I-No’s judgment following suit a second later.
“Aw did that hurt? That little boo-boo?”
“Yes, boss. Or should I say—” began Chaos, before he was interrupted, as in a single swift action, heels clicking forward then back, I-No pressed a cherry-red kiss on the mark, a wetness that clung to his skin.
“If you dare make a motherly comparison, I will use your intestines as guitar strings. After that other damned copy of the Nightless…,” She smirked, as Happy Chaos stared downwards in a vain attempt to see, fingers smudging the lipstick, eyes wide, mouth parted. “This is the least you deserve after you ruined my life. And, before you jabber on about technicalities, I'm not listening to the bullshit excuses that he wasn't you. Stop pretending and accept the rot.” Eying the crowd milling about, mannequins rolling across the floor, as though they were the ones who offended her. Meanwhile, on the wall, the clock was ticking down still. “What gave you that idea? Or even, why did you give me that stupid idea?”
“To do what?” Chaos asked, looking back up with a grin. It was a genuine question, his memory hazy, but he was unsurprised when she tugged on his leash with the command: “Tongue.”
He complied, sticking it out, tasting ashes and charred flesh a second later. He had created much of that in his time. And before. Swallowing bitterness. Yes, that was familiar as well. But this time, he willingly accepted it. Life was so much easier when one just drifted along, letting others lead, instead of doing so.
“Go to your precious kitten of a disciple,” I-No replied at last, either spurred on by whatever small mercy she possessed, or realising that he did not know, and it was more fun when he did.
“Asuka? Well when did I do that?”
“Right after you created me,” she stopped fiddling with her cigarette, which disappeared. Its replacement was lipstick, being dragged across her bottom lip like a knife across a neck. “Saved me, saved the world, in your words. You formed a portal and told me to escape through it, before she got to me. To find this guy, and then you gave me an impression of them. Before you got swallowed by a red glare.”
“Yeah that feels like something I'd have done, when I was that man, long ago and never.”
“Do you regret it? Splitting me apart. Ending up with both the power and in that bitch to boot,” she closed the lipstick with a snap. “How did you fuse with it anyways, you didn't seem like the type to take it. Though I guess the desire got to you eventually. As it does everyone. But I thought better of you, strangely.”
“Well—”
“I don't need to hear your explanation.”
“Then why ask?” he noted. “But ah, I was going to say it’s now a story that doesn’t matter. I’m Happy Chaos now. Your other half, up until we merged. We freed each other from our White Rooms, freed humanity from it. I think that deserves a celebration, boss.”
A waiter slid forward at his words, passing them champagne flutes with a bow, though Chaos’ was actually filled with a soft drink, one that had not been manufactured since 1999. He downed half of it in a swig, while I-No sipped from her glass, other hand tapping against her chair.
“I hate how you keep calling me and yourself that.”
“Hm? Boss, other half? That is a true fact, and a joke at the same time. Consider it a romantic play on things.”
“Unless I’m very, very mistaken,” said I-No, dragging out her words with all the sarcastic patience of a woman with weeks to live, “we both want the recognition of different people—”
“—Different ghosts,” Chaos finished, smiling so wide his eyes almost bulged. “You have your Will, a figment of imagination crossed with the potentiality of another, whereas I have—”
“The Will, yes, your great salvation. That you keep prattling about. It isn't any more fun trekking through a snowy mountain hearing you rant about that, than to be in a plush, gilded chair doing the same.” She set aside her glass, on a table that had not been present before.
“I suppose that is also true.”
“Some grand forgiveness…you love your ambitions. Maybe try setting more achievable goals next time. Like making it to the relationship stage, beyond being friends. Or making it to the friendship part in the first place. Even if both of us are just as fucked in terms of achieving that.”
“Fitting really. We’re crafted from each other, and then, formed from clay by all of humanity.”
I-No looked as though she was about to retort something further, probably something demanding, only for a shadowy figure to take the stage. Which, he didn’t know this room had, until a spotlight had illuminated it and them in a circle. White-haired, face hidden by a rabbit-esque mask, and if Chaos stared at the figure’s after-image, with golden eyes, though the voice was completely wrong. “Ladies and gentlemen, the new year starts in 10! 9! 8!—”
“Damned countdowns,” I-No muttered from above. “What's there to look forward to?” while Happy Chaos said, in both absent thought and reply:
“They're together now. Thanks to you, and your selflessness at that moment. Your other selves. Does that provide any joy?”
“—3! 2! 1! Happy New Year! Good fortune and best wishes to everyone, may a better time await!”
Around them the shadows were dancing, spinning, making noises that could be called celebrating. Echoed with the crackle and bang of fireworks. Through the glass, the bars, flowers bloomed; flaming reds, pinks, golds, greens, blues. As if there was a war outside, a colourful, beautiful war. No doubt there was the memory of animals fleeing away, to hide, while humans were rushing towards the sight in joy.
“As much as I'd ever get,” I-No finally answered. She closed her eyes, lights glittering across lashes, across mascara. Waterproof, yet they still budged a tiny fraction. “Now shut up and let me rest. I'm tired from all this running about,” tugging on his leash, she all but dragged him close enough that he could lick her. Propose another stupid question about carnal activities. But Happy Chaos did not. Instead, he rested his head on her gowned thigh, careful not to poke I-No with his twin horns, and she let him.
“Yeah, me too.”