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Micro could only watch as one of his friends died in front of his eyes.
War is a terrible thing, war stemmed from people, it's people who start wars. If only people never came to be, there would be no war.
His thoughts ran rapidly as he tried to pull his legs forward to any place that could grant him the mercy of a break. People were fighting everywhere, more likely to die in the hands of someone who didn't know them than someone who did. Everyone from officers to farmers, it didn't matter the side they were on, it was war. He regretted it all, he should've stayed at the mountain's base where it was safe.
After a while, Micro managed to step into a room atop the castle, it was a bit crowded, but at least it had significantly less killing. The heat from the volcano warped the scenery around the castle, and the cries of people were getting to his head. But amidst that particular crowd was when Micro first saw him.
A purple overcoat weathered by dirt with blood staining the shoulder that had been pierced by an arrow, hands that were clearly shaking but tried their best to rest assuredly on another figure's back, a boy clad in black. As if he could feel Micro's gaze on him, the boy turned around, his bright orange handkerchief that was tied to the neck fluttered lightly from the movement of the people around them.
Time seems to have halted as they locked eyes. Micro began to break out in a cold sweat as a piercing ache took over his head. As if controlled by instincts, he latched onto Thomas's arm, taking the other by surprise.
Thomas? He didn't know anyone named Thomas, but it seemed like it was the name of the person he was hanging onto. They were bright eyed and naive together, talking about their dreams as they sat atop a tree that overlooked the town below. But 'Micro' was dead, before 'Micro' could see their dreams come true, he watched as his companion mourned over his grave.
That's not correct, Micro has spent all his time with the cartel. Micro didn't have time to gather snow and build a tower and a farm. His life has always been about the cartel. Cooking, promotions, sales, deals, it was a different type of idling.
Then who is Thomas? If Micro were to let go of his arm right now, Thomas would watch as his last companion die to his best friend's hands then run off. He would then be caught and tried, then executed rightfully for his crimes. If Micro were to let go of 'Thomas' right now, he would die. The feeling made him sick to his stomach, as if he would also die along with him.
But why? He didn't even know this guy. He could be evil, and as a matter of fact, he probably was. It took Micro awhile to figure out that he was practically standing in the lair of villains. But in this moment, when they seemed to be chained together in a twisted turn of fate, he could only think about grabbing Thomas and running.
Micro was much weaker, so he couldn't budge Thomas. But as he saw the other's desperation, Thomas whispered something to the boy next to him before letting himself get dragged away.
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Micro mumbled as he ran, he would occasionally say something different in between, but even he couldn't figure out what. Filler words weren't something worth caring about in a life or death situation. He needed to get back to the cartel booth, where the rest of the members were waiting for him. As for Thomas, it was something he could explain later.
Right. Later. There's always going to be a later, a tomorrow, another time, a world without war, a world that lies beyond the walls of this castle. Micro would only have to climb down this mountain and go back to Island 2. To the lush greenery and abundant coastline. Where home was, because he can't die here, and Thomas can't die here either.
The booth was empty when Micro arrived. Blood seeped from under the door, he couldn't bring himself to look over the counter. There was no one else in the safe zone. A deadly silence.
"You—", before Thomas could begin, Micro grabbed him by the collar and pressed him against the counter.
"Thomas. Your name is Thomas. The friend that you were with will die in the Colosseum. You will run and run, until the pursuers catch up to you. They will put you on trial and allow you to say a speech that stands for everything that you've done up to this point before executing you. Thomas, if you leave, you will die. If you die, I die. If you don't want to die, we need to leave."
Micro took a deep breath, it was the most he had spoken in... a while. He let go of the other guy as he stepped back and met his gaze. It was rather distant compared to the one from his memories, an unfamiliar expression on an unexpectedly familiar face.
"That hasn't happened yet, the outcome can still be changed." Right, of course he would say that. Always the most ambitious of them all, to the point where it was blinding.
"... No you can't." Micro lied.
"I can't let my friend die, we can work together and save your friends too—" Before Thomas could finish, Micro punched him in the face, right on the spot that had a bandage patching it up. Despite being injured, Thomas quickly bounced back and tackled Micro to the ground.
"All my friends are dead, Thomas! That puddle on the floor is all that's left!" Micro yelled, his words echoed in the empty safe zone. Catching Thomas off-guard, Micro shoved a bottle of anesthesia into the other's mouth. It was something that the cartel had in development before the van was robbed.
Left with no other choice, Micro had to drag the unconscious Thomas onto a boat along with whatever scraps that he could gather from the ravaged safe zone and began to row away.
Now that he was far enough from Island 1, he began to ponder. Now what? From what he saw, Thomas is a wanted fugitive. Not that he knows what he did. But they certainly wouldn't be safe on Island 2. There was also nothing left for Micro on Island 2, the cartel got robbed before the war and the members were...
Anyway, he had to think fast, something that has proven to be difficult in times like these. The anesthesia was going to wear off soon, and he couldn't risk getting tackled again, this time on water.
He decided to let his heart decide the direction of the oars, boating back to the island with a coastline half covered by sugarcane and half covered by fences for a national park.
(• _ •)(╹◡╹)
The moon was setting by the time they got there. Micro dragged Thomas out of the boat, then pulled him along as he organized what was left into the chests that were already there. He knew better than anyone that the anesthesia he's given him wasn't that good, and Thomas is definitely pretending to catch him off guard.
"Thomas, get up."
Silence. He turned around to see the other guy with his eyes tightly shut. Is he supposed to be this difficult? Whatever, maybe he really was unconscious. Micro was worn too, it felt like the debris of Infernus was still stuck in his nostrils.
The moment he tried to climb into the bed, he was immediately dragged down and forced to roll across the sand. It happened too fast for him to react, and by the time he realized it, he was too tired to respond.
"Who are you?" It might be too late to realize that this Thomas didn't like Micro as much as the one in his memories.
"Listen, I know that this situation is a bit strange. But you've gotta trust me. Thomas, if you leave here we're both going to die. You have a legacy that's enough to warrant a worldwide manhunt, but me? I don't even know if there's anyone alive to remember me or my friends. So just be a good person for once and live." Micro gave up on coming up with a reasonable lie the moment he arrived on the island.
"... and sorry about your friend, but there's nothing that we can do about that now." He didn't mean to say it out loud, only noticing after he saw the wayThomas' expression slightly falters. It seems that Micro won't be the one he's grieving for this time.
Before he could struggle his way out of the tackle, Micro saw Thomas lean back before feeling a sharp pain to his forehead that knocked him out cold.
(╹◡╹)
It was late in the afternoon when Micro woke up with a piercing ache on his forehead. Besides the sound of the crashing waves, the island was quiet. The parrots continued to wait quietly for someone who can never come back.
Before figuring out anything else, Micro had to figure out Thomas. But upon attempting to figure out Thomas, he figured out the possibility that Thomas might have already left. The world was quiet, too quiet. Like the death that briefly passed him as the memories of Thomas flooded into his mind.
"Rise and shine." A voice from behind made Micro flinch, almost falling out of bed. He turned around as if it could be anyone else.
"Thomas. You're still here."
Thomas always responds with the same expression when Micro calls his name. A face that one would make when they come home to find something different from where they've left it, misplaced.
"You were right, the system announced that Fluixon had been slain late last night." He briefly glanced up, as if recalling something, "Fluixon is the name of my friend, the one that was... next to me."
Right, the one that I took you from. It was something Micro wanted to say, but considering that Thomas isn't currently being an active threat, it would be better to try and get on his good side. "Aren't you curious as to how I know about it?"
A brief silence filled the space between them. "That's something that could've been useful before you dragged me away." Guess that's a no.
Inside Micro's mind, two thoughts regarding Thomas coexisted. Maybe he's just acting like this because he was tired, and things will go back to the way they were in his memories if he just waited it out. Or maybe this particular Thomas really hated Micro, and he would be better off just leaving this island and getting out of Thomas' sight.
For the next few days, Micro hung onto the first thought. Despite the size of the island, they rarely saw each other, if they even saw each other at all. Maybe it was a good thing, sometimes you just need to give people a while to warm up.
It was a particularly cloudy morning when Thomas approached Micro first. He dragged along a boat that was similar to the one that they used to get here. Micro thought that he wanted to get back to Island 2, so he began to list off the reasons why that would be a bad idea.
"No, I just wanted to sail around a little to take my mind off things." It was convincing enough for Micro who was also wanting to take his mind off things, but mostly because he was looking forward to spending some time together more than he thought. The memories that was jammed into his mind at Infernus were his as much as they weren't, but for all Micro knows, hanging out with Thomas was fun.
Thomas rowed them relatively far from the island, far enough to make it impossible for someone like Micro to be able to swim back when taking into account the strength of the currents today. It was something that Micro failed to notice, he was too focused on trying to break the silence.
"Hey." Again, it was Thomas who started first. Micro nodded to show that he was listening.
"Do you think we're good people?"
It was a kind of question that doesn't typically appear on an icebreaker. Would Micro consider himself a good person? For as long as he could remember, he did everything for the sake of business. Selling to children, addicts, failures. Going to courts to sell, going to war to sell. Everything he had given ended up in nothing, he'd paid the price, does that make him a good person? Have all of his crimes already been chastised by the bloodshed of war?
"What about you, Thomas? Do you think you're a good person?"
Thomas stared back at him, he had just finished taking the oars out of the water and storing them inside the boat. The rolling waves shook them back and forth. Thomas smiled.
"I'll let you have the say in that."
Before Micro could respond, a particularly large wave capsized the boat, dragging him under the waves. As if the luck from Infernus was finally coming back to collect its debt, he pulled a muscle in his leg. Micro struggled, and it wasn't long before he began to take damage. He thought about how the last thing he saw was that smile. Twisted, but undoubtedly Thomas'. Was he a bad person for believing that Thomas would change? That somehow, Thomas would also remember what they went through together? It was as if the Thomas he knew had been replaced by someone who he didn't know. Or perhaps it was Micro who was replaced, possessing the memories of someone that he wasn't supposed to be.
Micro could barely comprehend the gray sky when he was pulled back up to the boat. There are no scaffolding that holds organs in their place, in the water, they simply float around. The gravity of the world felt crushing, and he was too busy coughing up the water to see that Thomas was perfectly dry.
"So that's how it is." Micro looked up, Thomas was still smiling that crooked smile before coughing up water himself. Not to survive like Micro is, but to demonstrate his discovery. He waited for Micro to finish his coughing fit before curling up into himself, teeth chattering. It was getting dark, and Micro could no longer see the island in the distance. The oars were laying underneath Thomas' feet, the situation have never been under his control. Thomas leaned back, the boat tilted a little.
"What do you think?"
"... about what?"
"Do you think I'm a good person?"
Micro could still taste the sea water in his mouth, the night air was cold, and he really couldn't think about anything other than how nice and warm it used to be in the cartel van at night. "It doesn't matter if I think you're good or not," he briefly paused to hold back a sneeze, "it doesn't change the fact that if anyone finds us here, you'll die."
Micro could feel Thomas staring at him as he tried to wipe the water off his face with his (also wet) hands. It took awhile for him to hear the sound of the oars being picked back up and placed back into the water, hopefully to go back to their island.
"What's your name?" Somewhere along the way, Thomas' voice broke the silence. It was pitch dark, above and below, Micro didn't know how Thomas knew that he was going in the right direction, if he was going in the right direction at all. Frankly speaking, the cold was the only thing keeping him from falling asleep.
He tries to keep the mood light, "isn't it a bit late to ask now?" It was difficult to ignore the soft spot he had for someone who doesn't know him.
The sound of rowing briefly slowed down, "doesn't mean I don't want to know. I'm offering so we can be on good terms."
"Just call me Micro."
"Alright."
Just as he thought that their conversation had reached an end, the sound of rowing stopped once again.
"Micro?"
"... what is it?"
"I have no idea where we're going."
"..."
Micro dozed off at some point during the night. If he was going to die, it would be a problem for later. Fortunately, he woke up to a perfectly clear sky and the stability of having solid ground beneath him. Thomas has somehow miraculously made it, and he has once again disappeared.
Nevertheless, it was the start of something a bit more hopeful now that he wasn't at risk of sharing an island with a wanted fugitive that is constantly acting on his life. It was finally time to take the future into consideration. Micro figured that he would like to go back to Island 2 at some point so he could build a memorial for the cartel. But what about Thomas? He didn't have a good feeling about leaving him behind.
Just then, the target of concern arose from the jungle, "Hi Micro."
"Hey Thomas, how'd you get back here last night?"
Thomas paused for a bit, which Micro thought was a bit odd considering that it didn't seem like a question that would require much thinking.
"Just some luck." He finally responded before walking off again, and so it was back to the usual. Micro went off to do his own thing, or in this case, finding something to do. No Thomas, let alone anyone to talk to. He would begin by harvesting the sugarcane around the island and then plant new ones in any spots that were missed. Then he would feed the parrots, sort through the items, and pick up seashells. In between these activities were moments where he would just stand still and stare into the distance, pondering on what went wrong. When he wasn't busy wallowing in his regrets, he thought about the memories that were given to him on that day at Infernus. Having Thomas as company was as good as none, if anything, it's proven to be even more dangerous. It was some strange kind of obligation that made him hang onto Thomas, but that feeling could only be reciprocated when the only ones they could rely on were each other. This Thomas was different, he didn't even know Micro's name until yesterday. Micro wouldn't say that he was more used to the Thomas from his memories than the current one, because in reality, he has known them for the same amount of time.
"What are you thinking about?" Again, a voice that wasn't his appeared from behind. It wasn't a hard guess as to who it was, it's not like there's any other options.
"Just... stuff." Micro managed to move his eyes just enough so that he could see hints of an orange handkerchief in his peripheral vision. "What about you, Thomas? Do you feel... I don't know, homesick?"
"Not really, a home is just a house when there's no one left, you know? I think we're both here for that reason." There he goes again, always saying things like that as if it was an invitation to lunch. But out of all of Thomas' quirks, this one was pretty harmless.
"Micro, for the next few minutes, I want you to respond to my questions while looking at me in the eyes. Is that okay?"
"...?" Micro turned around, about as half prepared for something odd as anyone could be. But alas, it was just Thomas.
"Do you know who I am?"
"You're... Thomas?"
Thomas' brows furrow slightly before muttering something under his breath. "Have you noticed anything odd with this island?"
If he did, Thomas would've already known about it, "no?"
"Really?"
"I don't know what you're trying to imply.."
Thomas looked up, so Micro looked up too.
"There are no clouds today."
"There sure aren't."
"Isn't it odd? It was clearly cloudy yesterday."
"Well, the weather can be unusual sometimes."
"No." A tap on his shoulder made him look back down. "The weather is only unusual when it's Island 1." Thomas pointed into the horizon, whispering Micro to look along, "look, there used to be a large boulder there, but now it's gone. And..." he paused before steering his finger, pointing directly at Micro, "we no longer have a sun."
"Huh?" Micro looked up, it was true that he couldn't see the sun. "But maybe it's just somewhere else on the island where we can't see it?"
Thomas shook his head, "look down, our shadows would indicate that it's about 12 at noon. You could wait and count to 3600, but nothing would change. It's been 12 at noon for about 7 hours now, ever since you woke up."
Oh, Micro gets it. This must be how this particular version of Thomas bonds with a new friend, "alright, are you going to knock me out again to see if the clock's gonna keep ticking?" It was a bit odd, he'd admit, but just about anything was better than being waterboarded.
"It's not a joke, Micro. There's something wrong with this world."
"You're making it sound like I have something to do with it. I haven't known you for long, but I know your tricks, Thomas."
"You do."
Micro was growing to hate the ever casual tone of the other. Two days of walking on eggshells, clawing at a grave that won't budge, he would be lying if he said that it wasn't getting to him.
"Tell me how then. If anything it's YOU that's suspicious. I've been sticking to my routine ever since we got here. I know that you know what I'm up to, but you've never told me once what you were doing." In some parts of Micro's mind, he was aware that he had broken a barrier to something he didn't want to let out. A deep, searing anger that rose from fear and confusion. The part of doubt that had been growing alongside him the moment he reached out to Thomas back then. "I saved your life Thomas. You would be dead if it weren't for me, but it looks like you would've rather died back there." Micro knew that was an excuse, and Thomas knew too, just not as clearly. Micro knew he wasn't a good person, he wouldn't just reach out to some random person and act as their guardian angel. It was Micro whose life was strung together with Thomas back then, and he only acted because he wanted to save himself. Yet here he was, acting as if the other was indebted to him.
Micro's life consisted of cooking, promotions, sales, deals, it was a different type of idling. He was never set out to die in war, let alone save someone else. It was all supposed to be for the business.
"You should've left me to die that day—"
Micro took off before Thomas could finish what he was saying. What was there to finish? He's heard about enough. Starting tomorrow morning, he will start to vanish one by one. Slowly packing up everything he needs to go back, out of Thomas' sight. If he makes it, he makes it. If he doesn't, oh well.
He ran and ran and ran, to somewhere that felt safe. Somewhere that bears semblance to what home used to be. But his legs stranded him on simply another open patch of ground in the forest because they were no longer able to keep up. He sat down hopelessly, leaning against a tree stump.
In the midst of his sulking, Micro heard the leaves nearby rustle. He shut his eyes tightly and began to brace for impact. "Look Thomas I'm sorry I lashed out on you—"
"Cluck."
Micro looked up. It was a chicken. The same kind that Thomas and him struggled to get into one place. "Hey buddy.." he tries to reach out to it, maybe he could use it as some kind of peace offering later.
"Cluck. Cluck. Cluck. Cluck. ▂▋▕▂▊. ▒▜▒▔▄▌ Initializing. System.█▍█▔█▀▋█▟█▍▆. Identified player: Microspr. Status: Alive. Relations:▏▀▍▟▄░, ▁▀▍▀▍▀, ▍▄▏▔▕▍▄. Deceased. Thomas5200. Alive. Error detected: mismatch. Thomas5200. Alive. Initializing process termination."
Right after finishing its... ritualistic chant, the chicken morphed into a cluster of black boxes, as if it wasn't a part of this world. The mass began to grow larger and larger, slowly moving its way towards Micro. His legs were frozen, from fear, from fatigue, from dealing with Thomas, and from thinking about dealing with Thomas. Perhaps it was time for Micro to accept his fate.
Just as he thought things were going to end for good, a loud squawk followed by a sizzling sound erupted from the direction where the chicken was supposed to be.
"Get up. We need to go somewhere." Micro didn't have to guess as to who the voice belonged to, because there weren't really any other options. So he let himself be dragged away.
They stopped at somewhere that could most closely be described as a mountain top. The place where they were standing was a flat grassland, but not too far from it was an ocean of ice, followed by a chunk of desert. The moon and sun were together in the same sky, half purple, half orange. And in front of him stood Thomas, who told him earlier that he would've rather died than be rescued by Micro. It was rather unnerving to be alive.
"Look—" Thomas began, but Micro interrupted him.
"It's alright. I get it Thomas. It's my fault. I'm sorry"
"No, it's not you. It was me."
Micro faced Thomas for the first time since their fight, it was that mocking grin again. As if he had just discovered something.
"Micro, I was supposed to die the day after the Battle of Infernus. That was my fate. But you saved me and took me here."
Micro tilted his head, as if to say 'ok, and?'
What followed was a laugh. It was more like a slight snicker, but it was more than what Micro had seen in his entire time here.
"The system detects me as an irregularity. The world we're in is being deleted, and if my guess is correct, there's no one else in this world except me and you."
"...why?"
"Because I'm an irregularity, and you're the last person who remembers me. You're the proof of my existence, and it's why the system is also trying to get rid of you. What a theory, huh? I managed to piece everything together while you were sleeping. I left a marker in the ocean and rowed in the direction of Island 2, but no matter how much I tried, it kept looping back in the same place. Like we were already at the edge of the world. Everything adds up, me, you, the sun, the ocean, the quietness, that chicken."
Thomas was still hanging onto Micro's wrist like how it was when they ran. Micro was too busy processing the information that was just given to him to notice while Thomas' grip slightly tightened.
"Micro, you don't really know 'me', do you?"
For the first time in awhile, Micro grinned. Whether it was like a criminal who had just gotten caught, or a human who had just been understood, he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was the fact that the truth of it all made him so miserable that it overflowed into the positive direction, or maybe he was genuinely overjoyed to know that he was grieving someone who never existed and will cease to exist.
The world crumbled as Thomas began to let go of Micros's arm. Reaching into his pocket, Thomas pulled out his handkerchief, which had something wrapped inside it. It was only then that Micro noticed that he was no longer wearing it. Actually, Thomas was missing a lot of things, his shoes, suspenders, and a small part of his coat were all gone.
"Here. If one of those things gets near like last time, just toss this at them. It's some things that belong to me, so it'll trick them into thinking that I've been dealt with." Thomas placed the makeshift pouch into Micro's hand, "the only problem they have with you is your memories of me. You should be able to cross the boundary and go back to Island 2 just fine." He then pointed towards the direction of the ocean, below the incline where they stood, a small boat was docked.
"What about you?"
Thomas tilted his head, "what about me?" Then, as if realizing what Micro meant, he smiled again. "It's alright, by the time you reach the other side, it will be like the way things were before."
Like we've never met.
Thomas didn't say it, but Micro knew they were both thinking about it. Their relationship was something that was never meant to happen. Dancing around the topic of fondness in the name of substitution. And so, Micro bid his strange friend goodbye, but not before asking one last question.
"Will we meet again?" He yelled to the person on the mountaintop that overlooks the shoreline, two people separated by a distant horizon.
There was no response, even as Micro was beginning to row away, there was a part of him that still clung onto the last threads of an answer.
It was a new day when Micro arrived on Island 2, making his way back to the cartel. He scraped some gold off a nearby statue from a nation that has fallen from its glory days to make his friends' graves later. On the way back, he tried to look into the robbery, but to no avail.
Micro returned to the cartel van empty handed as he began to build memorials for each of his friends. There was Banana, Panzer, Neptune, and...
As he finished up the last grave, he paused. It felt like there was something missing, someone else that he couldn't recall. But who? His life has always been about the cartel. Cooking, promotions, sales, deals, it was a simple and idyllic life that he have come to appreciate. So who was it that gathered snow with him? Who showed him a dream of grand yet dangerous ambitions? Who was it that mourned his death, even though Micro in the moment now is still alive?
Once a person has done something three times, it becomes the start of a pattern. While getting lost in his thoughts, Micro has mindlessly created another monument. He took a step back to look at his work. On Panzer's grave was the cherry blossom sapling that he'd wanted to plant, on Banana's was a birdhouse, for his parrots who can now roam the world rather than being stuck in the cartel bunker, and finally some sugarcane on Neptune's. But as he looked at the last grave, he began to ponder, have things always been this way?
Out of habit, Micro reached into his pocket to search for a bottle of something, usually one of the cartel's work in progress concoctions, only to find a tightly wrapped orange handkerchief. Inside was a button shaped rock that smelled faintly of snow and a letter. Maybe it was from a customer, Micro thought. If so, then it would be fitting to put it on the last grave. Four graves, three for his friends, and one to honor those who have died for the sake of war.
Once his job was finished, Micro began to walk towards town. It was no longer as lively as before, and he could tell that things were slowly being put together by those who survived. He managed to catch wind of some indistinct chatter along the way.
"Have you heard? They finally caught the last member of The Conspiracy!"
"Yea, Thomas right? I heard he was the leader's right hand man. Took them a few tries to kill him."
(• _ •)
Chatter falls into the breeze, and the wind carries them towards the ocean, where the waves wash up against the sand. There, Micro opened up the letter to a short and fragile promise, but it felt as if it was something he had been awaiting for a long time.
"Let's meet again someday."