Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Entry 1: 5/4/5083

January 16th, 5081. They had found us.

Years of building and innovating new technologies just to keep us hidden. All gone now. I couldn't let them get their way. Their hands on any of my equipment or machines. They're too advanced. Too dangerous to be in their hands. I regret it deeply, but I had to do it. 

I feel as if I failed though… No. No. I did. I did fail. I failed my friends, the refugees, the namesake of anomalies. Everyone, I failed. I promise them everything. Every ounce of my worth I gave. 

And it still wasn't enough. 

Now, we're trapped here like dogs. For two years we've been rotting away. The cells are barren. Only a mattress and a sink and toilet. No mental stimulus, just grey wall and brick. It's mind-numbing. Never more than ever did the rotting air outside seem more enjoyable. This world’s gone to hell. 

I only hope the more anomalous anomalies have it better than I do. Stranger properties demand more careful treatment. But I doubt the Protectors would even care for such needs. They didn't care for mine. 

Now I feel even more guilty. A man died because of me. 

 When they captured me I tried telling them. But they just didn't listen. He was the poor soul who took my blindfold off. 

I looked away. I tried so desperately to look away. I closed my eyes shut. I turned my head. I pushed them away. Everything I did was to keep them safe from ME because I am the cause for all of this. For everything till now I did because I thought it would help but it never did I never wanted this I never intended for this this was not supposed to happen I AM the sole reason for everything and it's all turned to shit because of ME I. 

I did EVERYTHING in my power and 

It's still my fault.

I still killed a man. 

I still f

Sabre stopped for a moment to let the guttural scream on the other side of the concrete walls subside. The scream came every 2 days. Or..well.. that's how long he thought it was in-between each scream. He couldn't really tell if it was day or night anymore. No windows or clocks to tell him. In limbo this cell was. Almost like a void itself. Lacking life and purpose. But he had an itch that told him the screams always happened at night. He doesn't know why they happen, but with every scream he felt he was going to throw up. But it wasn't until a few moments then when he realized what he was doing. 

He stared down at the notebook for a moment. He could feel tears running down his cheeks and onto the page, but he didn't feel himself crying. He contemplated continuing his sentence, but a part of him wondered if self-loathing was even an effective coping mechanism for his situation. Others were suffering from the consequences of his own actions, so to be here and wallowing in his own grief put even more shame on him. 

But, he decided that, for now, it was. 

ailed. 

He still failed. In every way. He thought he had it under control. But he guessed he was wrong in the end. 

I don't know why I'm writing. For the future? For myself? It doesn't matter. This book will be destroyed with myself. 

I don't know how long I will be here. Presumably until I di

Another scream echoed down the hall. 

Sabre couldn't bring himself to write anymore. 

Carefully, Sabre raised his index finger and pressed into a soft spot of reality. Slowly pressing until cracks started to form. The warping of space always had a electrical spark to it. He could feel it crawl up his hand and to his elbow, picking and poking at his nerves. It wanted to suck him in, so it could feed off of his life-force, so it could turn into its own universe. He pried it open until a blinding white void came into view... With other miscellaneous items floating in negative space, the notebook and pencil joined them. Once he let go of the rip in space, it quickly snapped back into place. The universe tired of Sabre messing with its fabric. He felt a bit dumb for not realizing that he could still access voids. Two years wasted here, but the voids had nothing to help him, so the result would have been the same either way. 

Feeling defeated, he slumped against the grey wall to his left on his mattress. His left foot began to feel sore. He could feel his blood pulse through his ankle. The shackle on it felt heavier today than it felt yesterday. But limbo isn't kind enough to give you a set time and date. Whoever constructed his cell must be a sadist if they're willing to make something so torturous for him. No light to warm his face, no air conditioning to cool his body. Nothing to do but sulk in his sins. Confront his mind and thoughts and actions and lack of actions and morals and conscience and his fragile ego. His mind was slipping, and he wondered if he even cared. 

He found that he did. If he went crazy, everybody within the facility would be dead. And he wouldn't even have to lift a finger for it to happen. To be completely honest with himself, anomalies like him should be locked up. Never to be seen or interacted with again. Left to rot and decompose till the day humanity dies. That way he wouldn't destroy anything that had value. But he felt that something was missing. 

Sabre reached to rub the tired out of his eyes until he remembered. He couldn't feel the cloth wrapped around his head. That's what was missing. His key to living a relatively normal life, ignoring bending space for storage. Instead, he felt his eyes, and nose, and eyebrows, and hair, and the long deep scar imprinted on the left side of his face. He doesn't remember when he got it, but he does remember not having it before all of this. It didn't hurt, but his eyes...Oh. Many times he tried ripping them out, but he never could. His eyes would always be with him, whether he liked it or not. A part of him wished he'd been born blind. Maybe then he wouldn't have killed so many people.

But it's pointless now. He's already killed and he's locked up in a grey box, with all of the other anomalies he's responsible for handing over to the Protectors. Over and over he's replayed the events in his head, and he's tried to pinpoint where exactly he failed to let all of this happen. He supposed trusting was the first in many failures. 

He honestly thought he could trust Lucas, but now reflecting, it may have been his loneliness that led him to a rash decision. But he still couldn't quite except that Lucas was an enemy of his now. The blonde's story seemed believable. Sabre had found him in the thick of the forest while he was lost. At the time it seemed that both of them were. Naively, He entrusted Lucas to lead them back to The Sanctuary, because unlike Himself, Lucas could see. It wasn't until Lucas told him he was an anomaly when Sabre fully trusted him. While traversing the thick forest, Lucas had asked him why he wore a blindfold, and even joked that supervision was Sabre's anomaly. Instead, and foolishly, Sabre answered truthfully and that his line of sight was dangerous. One glance and Lucas could be lying at his feet, incapacitated. Lucas fell silent at this remark, as many do when Sabre tells them. 

Then came the question. 

“...Do… you ever.. take off your blindfold?” Lucas asked. Sabre could hear a twinge of fear in his voice. He didn't blame him. 

“Never.” Despite what's been told to him over and over, he still wanted to think that he wasn't a monster. He still had empathy of course. But it's not oneself that determines who they are. To the wider society, you don't get to choose. 

“... mh.. Aha! What if…you looked at your reflection? What would happen then? Would you fall down ‘incapacitated’?” Now isn't he funny? He's sly and cheeky. Sabre hasn't had a good chuckle in a while. 

“Teh.. I wouldn't know. I never tried it.” 

And a white lie never hurt anyone, did it? 

But Sabre should have noticed what Lucas was doing. Prying for information. Looking for weaknesses he could have. 

“... When did you get your anomaly?” 

“Well you sure like asking questions, Don'tcha?” 

“That wasn't an answer.” 

“Fine, fine. I got it when I was around 9. Now, when did YOU get your anomaly Mr.Askalotaquestions?” 

“Pfft, when I was 14. Got bit by a radioactive horse.” 

Sabre wished Lucas wasn't a traitor. He was good company when he felt lonely. And he honestly didn't see it coming. 

“So… were you also human before?” 

“...Yea, unfortunately...” 

The moment fell, and both him and Lucas went quiet. They both had a life before this. Something much more safer and easier, for them and the rest of the world. Sometimes for Sabre, it felt like he died somehow on that day. 

“... How long have you been lost?” 

“I'd say a couple days. There was a farm I came across, but I didn't feel like turning into a horse just for shelter.” 

“What? You didn't wanna eat hay?” 

“Hey! Hay isn't that bad!” 

“Oooohhhh, you'd enjoy human company wouldn't you? Getting pet and given salt ball to lick-” 

“What-ever, man.” Lucas let go of Sabre's arm and shoved him into a pile of mud. 

“Ohfp- Plegh! Oh, How could you! Push a poor blind man into mud?” 

“Yea, and I'll leave you there in the mud. Bleh.” Lucas stuck his tongue out, but it came to him that Sabre couldn't see his taunt. 

“Whhaaattt? But we're such good friends!” 

The memory struck a pain in his chest. The irony in that remark. And Lucas was loyal. Loyal to the very end…TheSomething else had happened for it to stop. For better, or for worse, but the worse could possibly be the best outcome. Can't suffer if you're not here anymore. But so many things could be better. Better than this. Sabre’s thought trailed off as his ears picked up on heavy thuds coming from outside the front wall of his cell. 

 Patrols, he thought. Guards walking up and down the halls, no real purpose but to be intimidating. 

For him. This signified curfew. Faintly, he could hear banging on bars and yelling. The yelling usually had the same beat to it, indicating it was repeated over and over again. Sometimes he would hear other types of yelling. Louder, shorter, and more aggressive. He assumed it was the guards having to remind the more… unresponsive anomalies here. Not him however. He was too dangerous to be given any kind of interaction. And frankly, they probably didn't really care if he even got any sleep at all. The whole world would be better off without him, and his eyes. 

His ankle still ached. But there was nothing more he could do. He's done enough thinking for today. A mind break was in dire need. Whenever he's tired, a small part of him sometimes believes there's hope, even if it's just for a second. He couldn't possibly let his mind slip from reality and start thinking of nonsense. 

His last conscious thought before he went to sleep, was, when something… No…

When someone, would be able to peer into the windows of the soul, and see who he was, he'd truly be free. 

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— 

Clean, slick, dress shoes clicked onto the newly polished floor of the military base. The man who walked those shoes was a powerful one. His lengthy, slim figure marched down the halls toward the head meeting room. The entire facility was on edge, as his aged face did not welcome greetings or conversation of mundane topics. The head director and scientist there at A.Co.R.D. was not happy, in the slightest. For what, others will know by tomorrow, but as of the pressing moment, all that mattered to him was that he had that joke of a General’s head on a pike, and his soldiers fed to the dogs. But all “Good” things must come to an end. And of course, the man who walked those shoes was a powerful one, but he wouldn't be for long. 

A thumb pressed into a fingerprint scanner, and above read aloud was 

“WELCOME, PROFESSOR R.” 

The doors slid open, and there stood a number of commanding officers and national security. All in pristine uniforms and high ranking metals decorating their chests. Professor R. always acquainted this decorating akin to how a male bird flaunts his colorful feathers to a seeking mate. All clamoring for approval and attention for a reward that was fleeting and only meant to continue lineage. A title always had much more power that it should, and now it's become the most highly valued. All titles tainted with blood and war. 

The more uncaring officials discussed matters of all topics until Professor R. entered. Chief Commander of the Anomaly Containment Guard, General O’Brian was at the head of the table. The sight of his worn face and slow, deteriorating build filled Professor R. with rage. How could such a weak man do what he's done… O’Brian stood to announce to all that the meeting would now begin, but just as he had opened his mouth, another beat him to it. 

“How long have you been hiding this O’Brian!?” 

“sigh…” O'Brian had seen this coming, but he didn't really care. He was a Protector. A Protector of his country, nation, and citizens. He didn't care what some science loving brainiac told him what he could and couldn't do with government property and materials.

 “Gentlemen, Professor R. at the University of Teradent-” 

“Answer me!” 

Professor R. interpreted the gravelly but commanding voice..

“Professor R.-” 

“General Commander O'Brian Winhel. I want You, to explain to me why I woke up to a distress call from my assistant about the current location of the Angle. And why, when I called in an information request, I learn that Your soldiers had transferred the statue to the Alowsight Containment Facility, without my authorization?!?!” Professor R. had been waiting for the moment he would be able to chew O'Brian out. 

“Please Professor, all of your concerns will be answered in due time, just please contain yourself for a moment-” 

“I want to KNOW, O'Brian. What the Hell, is Your bumbling platoon doing with their hands, on My anomalies?” 

“For your infor-mation, Professor R. The anomalies that are currently under your research are Not your property. They Belong to the governing body of Raenal.” 

Professor R. was silent for a moment. That son of a bitc- 

“As for your question, Professor. Higher powers of the governing state have determined that the Angle should be moved to a secure facility where it is not in the vicinity of a metropolitan area.”  

“... What?”

 Professor R. was, admittedly, a little dumbfounded at the answer.  

“The statue can't be near people, Reginald-” 

“I heard what you said…” O'Brian playing this act of devaluing his intelligence was nothing new to Professor R. They'd always had a fued with each other. But, if the relocation was for such a simple and understandable reason, why had it not been told to him immediately? 

“...What I want to know, is why was it never relayed to me?” 

“Ohoho, well Reggie-” 

“Professor R.” 

“Well, Professor R., the State simply deemed you unnecessary to inform.” 

This… didn't make sense. He was the head director of the Anomaly Containment and Research Division. Any and all personnel who interact, do business, and collaborate with A.Co.R.D go through HIM first before anything else. He was the one who approved of the ACG collaboration and agreement in the first place…

What are they planning? Professor R. Thought to himself. 

“...And why have the Higher powers deemed me ‘unnecessary’ to inform, General?” 

“That, is what this meeting is all about about Professor.” 

O’Brain seemed pleased with himself. His smug face said it all, but it wasn't until he reached to pick up the remote to the large flat screen TV and turned it on, is when Professor R. realized.

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An agreement was reached at the end of the meeting. O'Brian and Professor R. were the last to exit the room. Either one's face told a different story of what happened in the meeting. A battle was simultaneously won and lost on the same battlefield. Two Generals of their respective covenants came out unscathed from the fight, But war does not determine who is better, stronger, or smarter. Only who is left. And for the time being, a truce has come between progress and control, to preserve both in the current moment. Because when you are confronting a force outside of your world, power is the only thing you can cling onto for survival. In the end, at the expense of one, the other will flourish. But anomalies will alway be there. All O'Brian and Professor R. can do is fight each other on who will be the last standing to conquer them. That is, if they're even conquerable. 

O'Brian thought that the anomalies would be great use to the State's military power. To use their abilities for combat, or obtaining foreign intelligence, whatever the State needed, O'Brian believed the anomalies could do. Professor R. was not of the same opinion. Professor R. thought that the anomalies could be the key to the secrets of their world and universe around them. Athought, research is monetarily draining. There's only so many millions of dollars the State could spend. And of course, when a business is going under, they may have to cut employees.

But Professor R. stood strong in his stance, and O'Brian did not agree. 

For the anomalies, all they could hope for, was the day humanity showed them empathy. 

But as an anomaly was fastened to the bed of a heavy duty truck, his figure concealed by plastic tarp and ratchet straps, all he could do was pray to his brothers at home that no living thing ever takes the coverings off him. Despite his stone prison and angelic appearance, he was marked as death itself. 

The Angle. 

Driven to be trapped in a grey box, stuck in limbo, where day and night meld together, where passion and hope go to die, and where his kind go to rot in the dutiful watch of the Protectors. Eons were spent frozen. Already in a stone prison, and to be put in another one. Sometimes, like a God, it's comforting to believe that there's hope when it all seems lost. Even if the face of Man is staring down at you. In tiny moments of electrical spark, is where hope grew. And in those moments, the Angle thought, that maybe one day, someone will be peering into his eyes, and set him free. 

Chapter Text

Entry 7: 5/19/5083

The noises outside of the wall are different. They're more active, and frequent. The screams have stopped, which, I honestly don't know how to feel about now. Either outcome isn't that… good. But I, strangely, feel better now. Maybe this journaling is helping in some way. I don't really know. But at least, maybe by the time I die, I'll be at peace. 

I doubt it. 

The noises are still there. I think they started like… 4 minutes ago? I don't really know, like with most things right now.. but they come and go, from one side to another. I think they're voices… 

The voices came again. Pausing his writing, Sabre stopped breathing to listen to what was being said. But he just couldn't hear what was being said on the other side. 

I have no idea what they're talking about. I don't know if it's me, or something else. 

The voices were still there. They remained near his enclosed cell longer than Sabre would have liked. It felt like they were talking about him. It was a back and forth between two different ones. It sounded like a foe argument. Small jabs being thrown but soft enough that it wouldn't hurt. Back and forth. Banter. 

Sabre remembered when he would have conversations like that. With anomalies that wandered into one of his rooms, lost. He'd play with them for a little bit. Get a laugh out of himself before he helped them on their way. He missed those days. Days where he knew where everything was. Who everyone was and where they were. Days where he didn't have to worry about the Protectors. He found himself replaying a memory. 

He was walking through a luscious garden with clovers consuming the stone path he felt beneath his boots. Light mist floated through the air, cooling him down from the hot September sun beaming down on him. He couldn't see them. But he was told that

“The Dahlias are sprouting beautifully! Go on, reach out your hand and feel them.” 

He did what the soft voice told him. He reached out and gently lowered his hand until he could feel soft and thin, round petals at his fingertips. He cupped one of the flowers and ran his thumb over its flowering dome, feeling the petals flutter. Oh, he wished he could see them. All of the plants within the garden. He ran circles around the flower a few more times until he felt something small and pointy land on his hand. It wasn't something harmful, it was delicate. He lifted his hand and shifted it until the object was in his palm. He gently prodded it with this thumb until he could trace thin sheets of chitin and the realized, it was  

“...a butterfly?” 

“Oh? Gasp, it is!”

“What kind?” 

“...I think a Black Swallowtail if I remember correctly…but it looks more green..” 

“Emerald Swallowtail then?” 

“Oh! Yes! That! Actually, hold still and don't disturb it! I want a photo of it. I haven't seen this one yet.” 

And he did what the soft voice told him. Alex had a knack for the outdoors. Before, and after her anomaly. Sabre always told her to take her anomaly for granted, as it was a rather harmless one. The sun gave her energy. She was like a plant herself… He never got to see what she looked like. But he assumed she'd be freckled from all of the time she's outside. 

Some of the other anomalies had to beckon her back to the shade of the Sanctuary when she'd been out for too long. They'd tell her she was still human to an extent, and had all of a human's weaknesses. 

She had been watching and documenting animals that came into the free roam garden once it was built. She's even the one who requested him to build the garden instead of working on more artillery. But he couldn't say if it was truly worth it. He never got the chance to see the garden flourishing with life. He never got to see the Dahlias emerge. He never got to see the Emerald Swallowtail flutter about in the garden. He never got to see the other anomalies enjoy themselves there. He wondered how much more he had missed. Never got to see. 

What he did see, however, was the ruin he left in his tracks. The garden burnt to ash. Its ponds empty. Its vines black and brittle. Its stone path jagged and uneven. The sun no longer there to warm him, but the moon to give him little light to see, and the stars to taunt him and they glimmer. He got to see where the garden he had built was, but not the garden.  

He could feel drips of water run down his face, down his neck. But he didn't feel sad. 

Maybe remorseful? 

Nostalgic?

Melancholy?

…Longing? 

Whatever it was, it was torturing him. He hadn't had such a strong and vivid memory in a while. And not as emotional as this one.

Sometimes hope gets the better of me. Sometimes I hope my efforts weren't in vain. They all seemed to help it the moment. But it amounted to nothing in the end…

Then Sabre noticed… 

The voices have stopped. They're gone…? Weird. But I guess there are a lot of weird things here. But if everything is weird, wouldn't it be the norm? 

Ahaha! Funny! 

I'm going insane. 

Sabre put the pencil and notebook down and sighed. He stared at the wall where the voices were previously coming from. He found it staring back at him. It was beckoning him forward. But he knew this was just his curiosity. If he was able to hear the voices, then the wall wouldn't be that thick, would it? 

He guessed it wouldn't hurt to get up and at least inspect it… 

Well it did hurt to get up. His left ankle was still sore from the rather medieval chain around it. 

They quite literally encased me in a box with no openings. Why did they put a chain on me? 

He thought to himself as he waddled over to the wall in front of him. It was just a meter taller than him before it reached the ceiling. He placed his hand on the concrete, and it was cold and smooth. No cracks or small chunks missing out of it. The wall was so cold in fact, that his hands' warmth left an imprint of condensation around it. He traced his hand across the patternless surface. Feeling no imperfections or variety in texture. It was strange. Felt more like a smooth countertop or tile floor. And it was apparently thin enough for moderate sound to pass through and be heard? 

This didn't seem right.

…Sabre wondered if the wall had a different property than he had initially thought. Another strange thing is that he found many soft spots in reality on the wall. That rarely ever happened on physical surfaces. 

…What was this wall really made out of?

He presses into one of the soft spots. A crack in reality shot across the wall. It was large and almost reached the other wall next to it. Sabre was shocked, and stared in awe of it for a moment. With how close the crack came to passing over to the other wall, Sabre pressed further, wanting to see how far this material went. The singular crack broke into two and cascaded over to the other wall. It went to the floor, but not on it. It just stopped at the angle where the wall meet the floor. It had also gotten to the ceiling. It reached the lonely dim light bulb uptop and gave it new light. Its light burned Sabre's eyes a bit. It's been a while since that light had ever really glowed. It then dawned on him. 

… The entire room is made out of this…

Sabre's head was desperately trying to put two and two together. Did the Protectors actually know about this other ability of his? And, somehow, made his room out of some…, unknown unstable reality material to… what? Keep him in there? Regular concrete would have done just fine. He just didn't understand…

He let go of the small rip in space and the cracks retreated to the spot he pressed before they all disappeared. 

The light at the ceiling flickered until it was dull again… 

It had been roughly two weeks since the Angle was transferred to the Alowsight Anomaly Containment Facility, or AACF for short. Professor R. was not pleased with this arrangement. Despite what O'Brian, numerous security officers, and even the Higher powers had told him, he knew that this relocation of his most important anomaly was not out of the concern or worry of the people's sake in Teradent. They wanted to use it for experiments and create weapons out of it. Inflict biological warfare on their enemies. How inhumane his nation's military was.

Currently, he was conducting a short tour of the facility. A barrage of footsteps followed him as he slowly waved his way through his building. trying his best to slow down the encroaching subject of today's visit. But the childish manner of O'Brian wasn't making it easy. 

“So, Professor, when do we get to see the Angle?” 

He said in a sly tone. He's impatient…Or calculated. Rather embarrassing line to comment next to other military officials. Some murmed to each other about the comment. A small chuckle passed through. Professor R. wondered if O'Brian even knew what embarrassment was. 

“Soon. By today you will. But I wouldn't say “seeing.” More… being in its presence.” 

“Is that so?-” O'Brian was cut short, and Professor R. reveled in that fact until a voice interrupted. 

“What makes this ‘Angel’ so elusive, Professor?” Global Naval Officer, Jack Indal. 

“I know you've warned us about it, but we still don't know why. To keep this information from us… well, wouldn't it be a little redundant?-” 

“The purposeful lack of information is intended for your own safety, and the Angles. Along with the rest of the anomalies here. The Angle is still rather new, and we are yet to discover the full scope of the phenomenon it might possess.” 

“But… Why are we forbidden to view it, Professor?” 

One of the officials parroted Jack with “Forbidden” in a slight gawking tone. 

“‘Forbidden’ is a strong word… you are being protected from the Angle. Just simply acquiring the Angle was difficult on its own. Not to mention deadly.” 

Sometimes men don't understand what the words that come out of your mouth mean. Especially when you tell them not to do something. 

“So, of course, we take extra precautions when handling the Angel.” Professor R. glared at O’Brien over his shoulder. He still couldn't believe how reckless the ACG was. And how such a lousy bum came to rise in such power to be in charge of it. 

Still, Professor R. was the head Commander here. Whatever he says goes. And he took great pride in that fact, Something these pathetic men that call themselves civilized can't understand. Why he ever agreed to this arrangement was a mystery to himself. He would be better off without the interference of childish men who didn't know how to keep their noses out of business not involving them- 

“...Say Professor… who do you have locked up here?...” That irritating voice started up again. 

Reluctantly, Professor R. turned around to see what exactly O'Brian was speaking of. O'Brians hand was up against the completely enclosed, barren, concrete wall of Anomaly-61319. 

“Oh General, I wouldn't recommend leaning your hand against that wall.” 

Oh, this was going to be fun. 

“That wall is made out of a very delicate material that was very difficult to obtain. All just to nullify whatever abilities the anomaly on the other side has.” 

O'Brian took a moment to side eye Professor R. before quickly removing his hand from the wall. Obviously, it wasn't because Professor R. told him to do so. No! It was obviously of his own volition to do so. O'Brian would never take such a condescending request from a man like the Professor! 

“Of course, on the other side of that wall is a very dangerous anomaly”  

“Tuh, Dangerous?” O’Brain scoffed at the adjective used. The only dangerous thing here was O'Brian himself if he had anything to say about it. 

“Yes, dangerous. Some of your men might be able to tell you…” Professor R. never liked how the ACG conducted their raids and sweeps of anomalous areas. He always felt it was too… reckless. 

“..Aha. And what exactly do you mean by that?” 

“...Remember that raid you had your men do 3 years ago near the Saints Mountains?” 

“...” 

O'Brian stood there, a little dumbfounded until it hit him. 

“...Oohohoho…” 

Morbidly, O'Brian chuckled to himself. He's heard stories from his soldiers. Near the end of the raid, they found the founder of the anomaly hotspot that was brewing in those mountains. None of his soldiers were able to get a glimpse as to what he looked liked. 

Well… except for one. But he's not really here to give his account of it. 

“...Deathwatcher…is behind this wall?” 

“Is that what your men call him?” 

“I'd say so… He killed one of my junior cadets.” 

“Well…, he certainly was a tough one to contain. Come along. We still have business.” As much as Professor R. Had appreciated that this conversation had steered away from the Angel, he couldn't really stand how interested O'Brian was in “Deathwatcher.” Just another dangerous anomaly that he had to lock away from the rest of the world.

 He continued to lead the group of men throughout the hall, and as he did he gave brief explanations of what goes on in the facility when he was asked. Usually by Jack Indal… Interesting, The Professor thought to himself before answering them. It was things like: How they keep the anomalies in check, whether or not they did experiments (such a silly question, of course they did, but they didn't need to know that right now), what are the conditions like for the anomalies, until he was asked this question. 

“Uhhm.. ahem, does the Angel also have this.. uh.. this nullifying material you spoke of earlier, Professor?” Jack piped up again. He seemed more talkative than the rest of the men there. 

“Of course, but, unfortunately, the Angles' abilities seem more… advanced, and the walls appear to be less effective. That is why we are still taking as much precaution as we can.” 

At least Professor R. could say that one of the many bumbling men here had at least half a brain. But maybe that would be something he would have to deal with later down the line…

As they continued down the hall of the facility, the officials following the Professor couldn't shake this feeling…the anomalies they had been passing by while Professor R. was giving vague answers to questions asked, they all seemed like they weren't alive. They were still moving. Walking around, staring at them as they passed by. Sometimes even coming up to the glass panel that separated them from the rest of the world (if they weren't as dangerous as the others and deemed safe to at least look at in awe). But they didn't seem like they were fully there. 

O'Brian seemed to be the first to notice. He recalled an anomaly he saw earlier. It looked to be human, but of course, with all the grace Professor R. possessed, he had warned them not to be deceived. That these anomalies were not human. 

But… she looked so lifelike. And what was worse, is that she looked fatigued…Malnourished… Hungry… Sad. 

Professor R. had, briefly, explained that she was some sort of decaying entity. Withered vines grew out of her legs and arms, her hair seemed thin and dull. It looked like it was supposed to be a vibrant red. But it grayed into a dusty blonde. If she brought decay, O'Brian wondered how well she could do if she was dropped off near farms and major crop producers. 

Her freckled face indicated she'd been in the sun at some point. But her pale milk skin said otherwise. It looked to be turning gray, and flaking off of her like ash. Had she always looked this dreary? Jack had asked. He somehow read O'Brians mind. Professor R. responded. …That's just how we found her. 

Something just didn't seem right about this place. Not under Professor R.’s direction. All more reason for O'Brian to get rid of him so his party could take control of these anomalies, and finally give them purpose than to just rot here. 

But before he knew it. O'Brian was standing in front of a large, steel, sliding double door that was locked away until Professor R. announced. 

“Gentlemen, what you've come here to see, and discuss.” 

The Professor entered a pass code before the large doors slid apart to reveal the Angel. They were separated by one big wall of concrete with a small panel of glass in the middle. Just enough to see the entirety of the Angel. Or, well…, rather, a vague silhouette obscured by a white thin sheet. 

It was underwhelming, to say the least. A few of the officials had a few words to give to the Professor about such a pitiful reveal before he shut them down completely. The meeting was not that productive in the long run. Just more headbutting and verbal male cat fights. Jack tuned out of the useless meeting until he took a glance at the Angel. It seemed still, like it had always been, but he saw something under the sheet covering it. Like colored light emanating off of the statue underneath the covering. But he didn't think much of it. Probably one of the few “abilities” or “phenomenon” this statue has that the Professor raved about to one of the officials chewing him out. 

By the end of the meeting, everyone was tired. Some even left early, but what was important to Professor R. was that he had those pigs out of his facility. The next morning would come, and he would be off to see his daughter for her 28th birthday. It would be a nice break from everything. 

But as night fell, one anomaly stayed awake. The Angel wasn't so sure if it was safe to move. Previously, he'd just been trapped. Frozen in place. But something happened today… cracks had formed in his enclosed room of gray wall, and it had reached him too. The cracks had crawled from his legs and dress to up to his hands, across his shoulders and chest, and up to his face where one crack split through his right eye. And after that fact, he felt that he could move. Just a tiny bit, but he could move. He could shift and look around with his eye. His hands felt free and so he freed them from the interlocking clasp they were in. The more he moved the more the cracks spread. It felt amazing with each crack that formed. It felt like stretching again.

He gradually lifted himself up and pulled the thin sheet off of him. The room was lit up by color, but barren, save for the one panel of glass that showed the other side. 

The Angel saw that the colored light came from himself, through the cracks in his stone structure. His true form underneath the mineral. 

He looked through the glass panel again, and wondered if anybody were to come into his room tomorrow. He'd gotten rather tired of having this sheet on him all the time since he was brought here. But he feared if someone were to come in and see his figure without this covering to protect them from it. He had heard the voices outside. Would they come again? 

He wasn't too sure. But his free mobility was a plus at the moment. It if came at the cost of having to now play statute on his own, he'd play it. 

At least, now he actually got to sleep properly. 

Chapter Text

The bird blue gray walls of the holding room started to become annoying. 

Although, maybe any color would start to envolk that feeling if you had the displeasure of staring at it for 4 hours. Mind numbingly waiting for an interrogator to walk through the door. Being restricted in cuffs felt dehumanizing. It's not like Lucas committed a crime. More of just, borrowing something. A.Co.R.D shouldn't be concerned with his existence at all. It's not like they cared for it when he was still deployed. 

The door's handle finally clicked. Its creak was a relief to hear, but the men who stepped inside were more than just displeasing. 

“Good Evening sir.” One of the men spoke. 

“Hope you're doing well. Apologies for the delay, we had uh.. 

the officer looked over at his partner, seemingly seeking for him to finish the sentence. 

His partner looked sturn. Older than both of them in the room, and was not interested in finishing the other officer's sentence. 

“A uh.. situation regarding.. aha. The subject matter we wanted to question you about actually.” 

The officer looked from his clipboard or paper and files up to Lucas with a pity smile. He set the board on the table and scooted a chair to the desk. 

“So.. Agent-L50..” 

Lucas didn't pay attention. He didn't go by that title anymore. He was a fool to feel pride in it. The officer looked away to flip a file open on the desk, revealing it was Lucas’ file. 

“...Lucas? Is it?” 

Now he paid attention. At least one person has the decency to understand who he was before asking stupid questions. The officer turned back to him, and looked him straight in the eyes. 

“What do you know about Anomaly-61319?” 

Lucas shifted a little. It wasn't nice to think about his time during his operation. He tried to forget. Like how he was after the raid on The Sanctuary. But everything had changed him. He knew Sabre well. He was the closest to him. 

“Why do you want to know? He'd be dead by now.”

Lucas was there for everything. 

The raid. The capture. The torture. The imprisonment. They expect him to rot in his cell. Die of dehydration or starvation. Or maybe he would find a way to kill himself before anyone at A.Co.R.D could do it themselves. Either way, he's dead. And that's what they wanted. Sabre didn't budge about any information they wanted out of him. So he became useless. Like Lucas. 

“ah.. about that..” 

… something's not right.

Lucas furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes in suspicion. 

“What about him?” 

“... when that Anomaly had been contained after the raid at Saints Mountains, your superiors had been under the impression that, although it was of non-human nature, it was still susceptible to any and all the things humans were.” 

“..Yes?… and…he's not of “non-human nature.” He was human! He was turned into an anomaly.”

“You know very well that anomalies don't have the capabilities of being human, nor do humans have the capabilities of becoming anom-.” 

“That's a lie.” 

“You told us yourself, Agent.” 

Lucas stopped for a moment. Shit. He did. But that was because he didn't know either. Nobody knew. 

“...You never gave me the chance to correct myself.” 

The officer glanced down to the file, lingering for a second before his eyes came back to Lucas, and he gave him a wide smile with squinted eyes. It was a pity smile. A “You don't know how wrong you are sweet summer child” smile. 

“But…you had told them. And everybody else here in this facility too, that this anomaly could be killed. It's just that.. now…”

The officer turned to grab a second file under Lucas’ own to reveal a photograph. 

A photograph of Anomaly-61319 bound to a chair and blindfolded. A proof of life photo. Lucas stared at it in awe for a second. He'd seen Sabre eat. Drink water. Get hurt. How.. How was this possible? 

“It seems to still be here with us..

So. The question is…” 

Lucas could feel the officer's gaze set on him again. The officer really seemed to like peering into his soul. 

“Why did you lie to us?...” 

“...I-..” 

He didn't understand. He knew nothing of…any of this. Lucas glanced at the door. The other officer was still there. Standing. Guarding. He's trapped. 

“I.. never lied to you.” 

“Well clearly you di-” 

“I never.. knew… Saber-..he was.. I-” 

“Lucas.” 

It snapped him back to reality. The cuffs became straining. He’s too vulnerable currently. A.Co.R.D wanted something out of him, and it didn't matter what it was. Just something. Anything that would confirm anything that they wanted. Why Sabre was alive, he didn't fucking know. Sabre seemed like a regular guy, disregarding his anomaly, and… 

He saw him bleed. Saw him hungry. Thirsty. Tried. Sick. Sleepy. He saw everything about him! And frankly. Sabre was a fool for trusting him. Bitten by a radioactive horse my ass. 

“I never lied to you. I-I don't know why he's still alive! How…How can I even believe that this is a real photo of him?!” 

At this point Lucas has no reason to trust A.Co.R.D. They've fed him lies before to make him do their dirty work. They've held things over his head. Taken away the things he loved. 

“I can, unfortunately, assure you that this is Anomaly-61319-” 

“Would you quit calling him that?!” 

Although by law Anomalies weren't human, there was no guarantee of their actual nature and its origins. And maybe that's why they're such a threat. That they were too close to humans. Too much physical human resemblance. Some possessing the form of human creations. Some may have even inspired human superstitions. 

And why A.Co.R.D does this. Continuously Dehumanize the already non-human. Not many fully know why. But Lucas knows why. 

“...” 

“He has a name. Like all of us.” 

“... and this is why we're here.” 

“The hell do you mean by that?” 

“Due to recent behaviors you've exhibited, we have suspicions that you haven't been all that forthcoming ever since you were accepted as a Protector.” 

And now Lucas knew. Of course. Playing detective alone wouldn't end well. 

“So before we let you go. We'd think it’d be best if you tell us the truth. The whole truth.” 

The officer's gaze never left him. It would never leave him. He was indebted. He was constantly watched. It never left him. 

And he couldn't leave it. 

“...Whose we?” 

His voice was hoarse. 

“You know who.” 

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4:54:32

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Sabre is counting. 

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He's been doing it since he's been put into this room. 

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He's keeping time. Since he doesn't know how long he'll be in this room. 

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Click

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Clock

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Thump

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Thump

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Thump 

4:55:04

4:55:05-

“AH!-” 

Sabre suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. The interrogator jumped back a bit from the sudden sound. 

“Whoa! You alright..?” 

“Jack, don't get too close.” 

Sabre didn't turn his head to the voice out of instinct. It feels so nice to go back to instinct.

“UH- uh, juh- yea! I… guess..” 

Wait.

 I'm… talking to someone? Conversing? Having…a… social interaction? And someone else is with them? 

“You… uh..” 

Jack Indal turned to the Professor for guidance.

“seemed a bit out of it. With the counting and all..” 

The Professor shook his head and leaned in close in Jack's ear to whisper. 

“Don't talk to it like it's human.” 

But, Sabre could hear what the other voice said. So, so, sad. Isn't it? 

“Oh- I just.. - I just got… bored.” 

Fuck. First chance to speak to someone and he's already dehumanized. Maybe he wasn't human after all.

And maybe he was glad he wasn't. They seem pretty cruel anyways. 

“It's uh.. alright. Um.. so,-”

Jack fiddled with the clipboard and beat up notebook in his hands until he was motioned to sit down, away from Sabr-... 

the Anomaly. 

“Anomaly-61319.” 

Professor R.’s voice was strong. Demanding. He'd done this countless times. 

“Do you know why you are here?” 

Oh. It's an interrogation. 

Again. 

And it never hurt to be a bit of a smart ass, did it? 

“No, Sir. I don't know. Frankly, I don't even know what room I'm in.” 

Sabre turned his head a bit behind him. He gave a sly grin and he hoped it looked like he could see through the blindfold around his eyes. Jack quickly noticed and looked to the Professor again. 

“..can he-?” 

“It, Jack. And no, it's messing with us.” 

“But-” 

“Just write what we say down. Let me handle it.” 

Sabre had only been in one interrogation before. I know they usually tie the suspect to the chair and blindfolded them. But don't they just record the interrogation? Why he was even being interrogated was still lost on him. They did the whole shebang when they first caught him, and his words were of no use. Why now? 

“Anomaly-61319, again. Do you know why you're here?” 

Because I housed and fed the rejects of society? 

“I already answered that question man. You're just looking for the answer you want. No. I don't know why I am here.” 

Sabre rolled his head to fain eye rolling. He twisted his wrist in discomfort of the rope. It started to burn. And the blindfold felt a bit tight. He was even tied around his chest. What does that even do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They're just scared of him. 

And the rope wasn't comfortable either. It was regular rope, but it felt like metal was infused into the windings of the material to somehow “reinforce” it. It tingled and it burned. Electrical sparks and vibrations emanated off of the rope. It felt like it was trying to absorb the life of his hands. It felt familiar-

“61319. You are here because you clearly know more than you let on.” 

“Oh, really now? That's why I'm here?” 

“Don't act smart with me.” 

“You know, for a “Professor”, you don't act so smart yourself man.” 

The Professor just stood there, taking in what this disgrace of an entity spat at him. 

He should just kill Sabre right then and there for insulting his title. But he can't, now can he?  

Professor R. turned to Jack who was frantically writing words down. 

“Hey, could you uh.. repeat that again-” 

“Mr.Indal.” 

“Oh- yes?” 

“The notebook.” 

Jack shifted the notebook under the clipboard to his right hand and gave it to The Professor. He didn't exactly know why Professor R. was so adamant to bring this notebook along with them. Its front cover was blank, and it looked beaten and torn. Clearly written in. It's cardboard back wearing at the corners. Maybe it had notes on the Anomaly written in them. To keep track of what this… thing can do and is susceptible too. 

..Or it was a diary of some sort, but that wouldn't make sense. 

The Professor opened the note book and sifted through the pages until he was in the middle of the book. Sabre knew immediately what it was. They got him at a pretty vulnerable moment. He was in the middle of writing as well as a depressive episode. Not the best time for second impressions.  

“Ahem, Entry 13: 6/9/5083-” 

The Professor stopped for a moment to look down at Jack. They both gave the same glance to each other. The statement of the year 5083 was strange. But beneficial to them. He didn't know. And that's what they need. 

“It's another one of those moments. 

I'm helpless. I’m useless. I'm worthless. 

I've never done anything to truly help anyone. I deserve thi-” 

“WOW, Ok. I get it! You don't have to go out and.. expose me! Ok?! That stuff is…confidential…” 

“...Confidential?” 

“..grumble.. well, yea…’ 

“Where the Fuck did you even get this journal.” 

Cold, harsh demeanor. The Professor slammed the notebook onto the desk in front of the Anomaly. Getting close to its right side and yelling in its ear. Jack almost felt that he was the one being dogged on. And… it was a dairy? It IS a dairy? 

The Anomaly sat still. Leaning to its left side to bring distance between itself and its accuser next to it. It held its head down and heaved in breaths through its nose. It could feel its face flush with guilt and shame. Embarrassment and weakness. It had no power here. These ropes I hate these ropes why are they even here they burn

It's like his demons possessed a real form and have come to torment him. Maybe he did finally die. 

Burning and burning and burning. 

You could show him, Sabre. 

“Show him what?…” 

The Anomaly whispered under its breath. 

He really wanted to listen to a voice that wasn't the one in his ear. And this one seemed comforting and… understanding. 

Soothing almost. 

“The hell…? Show who WHAT?” 

Oops. 

The Anomaly clenched its jaw and sucked in a breath through its teeth. 

“You were just so eager to speak 30 seconds ago! Where'd all that confidence go?!”  

“ANSWER ME DAMN IT!” 

The Professor took the notebook from the table and whacked it across the mangled face of the Anomaly. The Anomaly let its face hang to the left after the hit. Its hands gripped the rope on its wrists. 

Burning and burning and burning. 

Show him.

It turned its head slowly to the Professor. Inches away.  

And he could see the disturbed face the Professor made as he did so. 

He could see the eyelids retreat into the skull, the eyebrows raise in confusion and bafflement. The mouth gape slightly, until the Professor came to his senses. He could see the mouth close and the jaw clench and the brows furrow and the eyes squint and the nose crinkle. 

He could see. Oh how wonderful it was to see. 

“...what's with the ropes?” 

“What?” 

“The ropes. They don't feel like regular ropes.” 

Surprising it caught on. No way it was this smart. Well, maybe observant, but definitely not smart. 

“Who cares about the ropes-” 

“I do.” 

He does. He really does care. 

“...Reenforced. With the same metal that makes up your walls in your cell.”

Oh.

“It's a new material we made ourselves. It's very effective against.. unusual properties.” 

Reginald always likes to boast about his inventions.

But Sabre was silent for a moment. Is he stupid? Are they stupid? Are they both stupid? 

“...how effective?” 

“Just enough.” 

He thinks he's so smug. 

Burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and 

Show him. 

…

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“You told the Anomaly that you were… bitten by a radioactive horse?” 

Lucas looked defeated. This interrogation had gone on for 3 hours. 7 total hours in the room. The walls started to melt in his peripherals. He was slack in his chair with his hands still on the table. Lifeless. 

He slowly blinked at the officer. 

“..Yea..” 

The officer looked back at him. Bewildered. 

“And it believed you?” 

“.. Yep. He believed me.” 

“...i-.. Horse Spider-man?”

Lucas slowly nodded, rocking back and forth and mumbled under his breath. 

“Horse Spider-Man…” 

The officer at the door then spoke. 

“And you were the one to take down that whole operation?” 

Lucas looked up to the man with only his eyes, these men clearly don't know the whole story. Yes, it was top secret, but also 3 years ago. It was so easy to get his own hands on his file case and the reports he sent back, how it never leaked was news to him. 

“They never expected me to succeed. They gave me nothing but a phone and tracker and sent me into the woods. Sabre killed the first two guys they sent before me so it wasn't like I was important to the organization.” 

Lucas let out a breath he seemed to be holding in longer than he knew of. Letting his chest sink and feel the weight of his actions. 

“I was cannon fodder.

So why should I care if my story is believeable?”

“... How did you convince him that you… were an anomaly?”

“I ate hay in front of him and slept in a horse stall for 2 months-” 

“Ok, I think we're done here.” 

The officers were fed up. Lucas has given them nothing other than the horse story and the tremendous alleged abuse A.Co.R.D put him through. He clearly was of no use. 

“Am I going to be let out of here now?” 

“No.” 

He was never going to be let out. 

Lucas looked to the officer standing up and gathering the files on the desk. His own and the photo of the Anomaly, along with more documents. Records and transcripts he sent via text and voice recording. All highly confidential information, just…out in the open. 

“You're not leaving.” 

Not leaving…? 

“We know what you're trying to do. What you were trying to do. Just know that we always keep track of our cases and operations.” 

They always did. 

“Your story is unbelievable. Doing what you did, trying what you tried, it won't work.” 

At least he tried. 

“it's over. It's been over. And what you tried to uncover will not see the light of day.” 

But time reveals all. 

“You are a Traitor. To your peers, to the organization, to the State.”

To Sabre. 

“You're not ever leaving.” 

And Lucas thought for a moment. 

“... can I at least talk to my lawyer-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tony- let's just leave already. This guy's a waste of time.” 

“I don't even know why our bosses put us to this.” 

The officers mumbled to themselves and each other about Lucas until they shut the door.  

And now, he was all alone…

again.