Curate, connect, and discover
Tang doesn't know how long he was trapped for, but he knows it's been long enough, and he wants out. Turns out being stuck with only your own annoying, crazy, and self deprecating thoughts starts to grate on your nerves after a couple hours(?) of nothing but earworms and existential dread coming in regularly.
He would actually prefer some of those voices that were usually here by now, even the hands around his ankles, maybe even the stupid buzzing if it could drown out his own inner voice and get him to wake up. He just couldn't stand all these thoughts and he was just so tired of this place-
A sudden burst shut him up. It was back. The energy from before had come back, zipping around, almost frantically, around him. His eyes shot open, the whiplash from nothingness to something causing his heart rate and breathing to kick into high gear.
Tang had expected the energy to disappear, to slow its pace and fall back into obscurity like before.
This was nothing like that.
The sheer presence it held took his breath away; he could barely keep himself from shaking at the image in front of him. Lights and colors he'd never seen before danced around him, combining and dividing infinity in front of his eyes. Among them, he swore he could see shapes and images flash for a moment inside the swirling cacophony; faces, places, even still frames of what he assumed were major battles were conjured then consumed by the ever-shifting mass.
It was beautiful. It was dangerous. It was powerful. He didn't know what it was. It seemed ethereal. He didn't know what it could do.
His body moved on its own, an arm reaching out towards the mass unconsciously. A small voice in his head screamed at him to stop, to back away, but his body wouldn't listen. Everything fell into the background, his eyes focussed on his hand slowly approaching disaster.
Dread filled his gut, heavy along with anticipation. When the distance finally closed, though, his hand went right through the colorful light, a warm sensation covering his palm.
He watched, transfixed, as a bright orange came from his palm, tinting the surrounding light. It started to spread, staining more and more of the mass a glittery, shimmering orange as the energy was lulled and slowed from the shift.
When he tried to pull his hand away, a sudden weight washed over his body, something similar to a weighted blanket thrown over him, slowly dragging him down in the low gravity.
It was almost unnoticeable if you weren't paying attention, but after feeling absolutely nothing for too much time, you start to notice the little things that change.
He was shocked at the feeling, how the weight seemed to increase slowly but surely. The hand touching the colorful mass was hung above his head as he descended, stuck to the orange lightshow as he seemed to drag it down with him. Another new thing. He didn't like how many were happening at once.
He tried to lift his other hand to move, his legs to kick, to move anything, but they were once again numb to his pleas. The only thing he could feel from his limbs was the warmth on his suspended hand.
The weight on his body only continued to increase as he fell, similar to the feeling of being covered in a bucket of tar, not that he would know anything about that personally…
The heavy pressure enveloped him entirely as he sunk further and further into the void's depths. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, succumbing to the ever-present weight over them as they slowly closed.
His limbs slowly started to become responsive again, similar to when they fell asleep when he passed out at the library too many times and woke up to his head on his bicep, cutting off circulation.
The tingly feeling only grew as the weight became more intense. He felt like pins and needles were constantly stuck into his skin, like a very morbid human porcupine or pin cushion.
Tang couldn't even huff at the image he’d created in his head as everything felt too heavy to move, too uncomfortable to even try.
After a while, he could feel the mass start to glow brighter, muted orange hues shining through his eyelids. To his surprise, he could feel the sparks of energy start up again, quickly detaching from his palm and swirling through the void as it circled his body.
Because of this, he almost didn't notice when he could completely feel his limbs again, how the weight over his body stopped increasing, and when his body finally collapsed onto a hard, solid, surface. He did, though, and he jolted violently at the sudden sensation, his lethargic limbs twinging at the sharp tingling feeling when his body made contact.
He was hit with an odd sense of deja vu as he tried to pull himself up from the cold, hard surface. As soon as he started to move, however, the energy circling his presence violently dispersed, the concentrated form it held earlier fracturing and scattering into specs across the void.
Tang opened his eyes in confusion, blinking away the haze that covered them. When it cleared, the smell of smoke and ash suddenly assaulted his senses. He coughed violently into his elbow, gasping for air as the surface under him seemed to… warp.
Gone was the cool, smooth surface, replaced by rough wooden planks. He could feel ash start to pile up on his skin, the course texture shifting as he tried to sit up. A harsh bump from below jostled him back onto his elbows, sending stray ash flying into the air.
He let out a frustrated huff, coughing once again as the ash burned into his throat. Back on the floor, he could feel the vibrations of motion under his legs and palms, wooden wheels traversing uneven dirt roads. The feeling was oddly familiar, making his brows crease in confusion.
Slowly rising to his knees, he settled into muscle memory, adjusting his position while he leaned on the side of the… wooden cart. Huh. I haven't been on one of these in a while.
Looking around, Tang saw what looked like a nightmare-ish version of the Bellfield square. The buildings were all wrong, starkly different from the tents, stands, and warehouses of the current bellfield. What he remembered to be well built houses and storefronts lined the square instead, either on fire or having taken significant damage as the flames roared on.
Ashes and debris lined the road, oddly far enough away for the cart to pass on by. Holes and craters lined the ground as well, pieces of the earth jutting unnaturally towards the sky.
No…
Tang knows what this place is. He knows what's happened, and has enough common sense to know that he's most likely dreaming. But everything still seems too real.
The familiar way the buildings collapsed from the inside, the way everything from the ground, walls, people had just dented and splintered apart from something no one could register. Everything was the same, down to the minute details of where the fires burned to how the breeze blew the remnants away in sweeps of ash.
Except for something.
There wasn't any blood.
He knew that people had gotten hurt that day, back when he was a boy and was… something. Whatever. It didn't matter why he was there, because what happened regardless is something he knows all too well.
He can almost imagine the mixed smell of blood, burning flesh, and smoke all too well. He gripped the side of the cart harshly, the rough wood digging into his hand. That was another thing he noticed. Why wasn't there any smoke-
*COUGH*
*COUGH COUGH*
A cloud of darkness and heat suddenly covered the cart, blanketing the entire thing, including Tang. He ducked his head as he coughed violently, the smoke worming its way into his lungs. It was overwhelming, making his eyes water as he tried to breathe despite the black cloud of crap and the… smell of blood and burning flesh.
He covers his mouth with his scarf (which seemed bigger than usual) and shudders in a breath, his body shaking at the sudden onslaught as he quickly looks out to the square, paling at what he found. Smoke now covered the area in a thick smog, enveloping everything in its path. From what he could see through the cloud, the pure destruction had turned to a massacre.
Bodies littered the area, some caught under rubble while others bled out on the street. The smell was all too like the one he remembered, scarily so. He was glad the smoke only allowed him to see their silhouettes; he didn't know what he'd do if he recognized the tatters of clothing on the most likely charred remains.
A sudden bump in the cart made him jump and shook him back to the present. It was almost like the cart sunk into the thing blocking the road, a wet squelch sounding as they passed… I don't want to think about what that was.
He breathed slowly through his scarf, trying to reason with himself. It's not real. He thinks. I know that. It's just another one of my horrible, stress induced nightmares due to the stupid military, this stupid town, and it's STUPID WAR with whatever attacked us on the road.
But the smell of rot, burnt flesh, and blood still invaded his senses. He screamed into his scarf.
Readjusting, by then he had realized the cart was going in circles around the oddly-intact fountain in the center covered in blood and ash. Looking ahead, pulling the cart was a seemingly normal brown horse, weirdly unaffected compared to its surroundings.
Looking closer while leaning over the cart to put a hand on its back, he noticed that it wasn't blinking, and he couldn't feel it breathing, either-
A strong gust of wind pushed him back onto the cart, the smoke coalescing around him in a whirlwind of black. His scarf was blown askew as he coughed violently on the floor, eyes watering as he struggled against the wind's current.
When it finally dissipated away from the cart, Tang shoved his scarf back into his face and gulped in giant breaths of (slightly) cleaner air as he sat up.
The cart jolting to a stop brought him back to the moment as he stumbled forward, the horse coughing something horrible as it tried to keep walking, stumbling over every piece of… debris thrown into the road. The sounds of it heaving and coughing were deeply disturbing as it basically echoed through the still, gorey setting.
Tang rushed to set it free of the restraints, struggling against the thick clouds of smoke even with his scarf over his face again. He tried to find a latch, knot, anything to undo the reins trapping the poor creature here, but he couldn't find anything before the horse collapsed onto the ground.
The cart toppled with it, leaning dangerously to one side as he let out a muffled yelp in surprise, gripping the sides of the cart for dear life. He was thrown onto the road, landing on top of stray pieces of wood and stone that dug into his side.
He groaned painfully as he got to his feet. Standing on solid ground again, he noticed how his sleeves seemed longer than usual and how baggy his pants and robe had become, bunching near his loose shoes. He tripped over the fabric more than once as he dragged himself back to where the horse played on the ground, motionless.
He grimaced at the sight as he crouched down next to its head. One hand held his scarf to his face while the other hand reached out to its face, closing its eyes to offer some sort of peace. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled, the odd sense of deja vu he got slipping away as he noticed how scratchy his voice had become from the smoke and how it sounded oddly squeaky.
His eyes scrunched together in confusion, a hand reaching towards his throat. “What was that?” His voice stayed weird, still high, still younger sounding than what it should be.
He stood up, away from where the horse now lied. He walked and walked, ignoring the scent of ash, smoke, and blood as he tried to find a building with at least half of its walls and windows still intact, preferably vacant of any… former inhabitants.
Gravel and chunks of wood caved under his feet, the black flats he usually wore not doing him any favors in terms of padding, especially now that they were a size too big. The warmth of the fires around him licked at his heels and bare skin, similar to holding a fresh bowl of noodles at Pigsy's with your bare hands; nothing too bad, but you know it could become worse if you slipped up.
He's only done it once, spill a bowl of noodles, but the skin on his hand was raw for weeks, leaving him unable to write for the entire duration it was healing. This was incredibly inconvenient as this was when he had started college in Megatropolis, and Pigsy had scoffed every time he came in after class and whined about the injury, calling him a clumsy fool with his head stuck in the clouds.
Pigsy did end up leaving him some fresh bandages and burn cream one night, when the pain started to worsen along with the swelling. He had teased the chef for it, obviously, but he doesn't remember exactly what he said. All he does remember is how red in the face Pigsy had gotten, embarrassed out of his mind as he grumbled all the way back to the kitchen.
The pain didn't seem so bad with him around.
However, this warmth around him now wasn't as comforting.
A small glint of light drew his attention. Tilting his head, he could see it was a shattered mirror lying on the floor. It was inside of a collapsed bakery, counters, chairs, and ovens crumbled and covered in ash. The sight of it sent a pang of hurt to his chest, but he ignored it in favor of getting closer.
Stepping over crumbling bricks and splintered planks, he slowly approached the smoldering shell of the building, making sure he didn't stumble over the debris or his own clothing. As he got up to what used to be the doorway, he silently peered inside, making sure that there wasn't anything lingering in there.
He let out a sigh of relief when he saw nothing moving, carefully stepping in through the rough entrance. The edges of his robe caught onto some bent supports stuck into the ground, not letting him get even a step into the place before he fell forward onto his left shoulder.
Tang sighed heavily into the floor. This is starting to get old. Fast. He thought, rolling to his back onto a decently clear area of the ground. He absently looked through the non-existent ceiling as he rubbed his shoulder, seeing how smoke and ash rose into the air and disappeared into the clouds, fire glowing through the gray in hues of orange and yellow.
Tilting his head to the right, he saw what he had come in here for. It was a long, oval-shaped mirror lying directly under the center of the hole in the roof, probably falling from the bakery's second floor. It was cracked and shattered in many places, covered in large amounts of ash; however, the beautiful frame remained intact.
Before getting up and getting closer, Tang sat up and looked around the bakery more thoroughly. It had only taken one blow, the giant hole above and the small crater in the floor being the only evidence of violence proving it. He saw other items in the crater as well, peering into its depths.
A broken plant vase with burnt flowers, some trophies melted and mangled beyond recognition, pieces of clothing that might have been matching aprons at some point, and some picture frames that weren't so lucky as the mirror, with most of the frames, glass, and pictures themselves being shattered or ripped to shreds.
He slowly dragged himself over to the crater, lowering himself about a foot as he carefully avoided broken glass and the like. Despite how careful he was, however, he still managed to accidentally knee one of the broken picture frames, letting out a hiss. The glass and splinters thankfully didn't cut through the fabric, though.
Sitting back and dusting off his knee of stray grime, he looked down at what he had hit. It was a family photo, parents standing behind the kids where everyone was smiling at the camera wearing matching uniforms that seemed familiar.
He picked the photo up, brushing away the layers of ash that covered it. The old couple seemed distant, eyes clouded with other worries and thoughts with polite smiles gracing their faces. Their hair had Grey streaks, yet was well handled with a bun or a ponytail.
The eldest child, or just the tallest one, stood next to the father; a small turn of the lips is all that's given to the camera, sharp eyes crinkled, annoyed with the activity perhaps. His hair was neat, almost too neat for a child his age, probably around 16 if he had to guess.
The kid standing in front of him was most likely the youngest due to how he stood a foot shorter than any of the other people in the picture. His smile was wide and unwavering towards the camera, some missing teeth becoming noticeable.
Then the kid on the left, the only girl, stood next to the mother, no more than 15. He noticed her eyes first, hazel irises glinting with mirth at the camera as long black hair framed her face-
*CRUNCH*
The photo was crushed in his hands. He balled it up violently, throwing it towards whoever knows where. I got distracted. This is just a dream.
He sighed heavily, focussing back on what he came here for. The mirror was propped up on the crater's slope, covered in ash that he quickly swiped off, slanted not enough for a full body view but enough to see his top half when he stood up.
What he noticed first was how skinny he looked, like he was drowning in his own clothes. That wasn't surprising, but what was was that all his wrinkles were now replaced with baby fat, his hair now infinitely shorter as well.
He raised a hand to his face in shock, feeling to see if that was what he really looked like. He was a teenager again. His age back when this all happened. Back when he couldn't fight back. Back when he wasn't strong enough to protect his friends.
He didn't like that he looked like this again.
Leaning closer, he saw the bags under his eyes he still had today. That never changed, he supposed. The cracks distorted the image, though, with parts of him in all different sections of the broken mirror. He remembered when he broke his own mirror in a fit of frustration, back when he was still in Megatropolis.
That time seemed forever ago, when he sat still and carefully plucked all those shards from his knuckles. He had hit it square in the center, cracks forming and crumbling outward from his weak punch, but this mirror seemed to have a different start.
Trailing the lines of the mirror with his eyes to look for the source, he saw that the cracks led to a small hole in the mirror made by blunt force, maybe from a piece of wood or brick, making a focal point that landed perfectly on Tang’s reflection, right above his heart.
He supposed it was poetic in some way he couldn't think of, mind hazy from the carnage and smoke surrounding everything around him.
However, the little introspection didn't last long. He heard the walls creak eerily before he even knew what was going on, ash displacing from the remains of the higher floor as it started to tilt inwards. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly looked up at what could only be described as something utterly, completely, horrifying.
A figure was suspended in the air, obscured by clouds and clouds of smoke and fire that seemed to wrap around its very being. The only thing visible through the whirling grey and orange was its piercing white eyes as it stared him down through the rubble.
The supports around him creaked in displeasure as the whirlwind around it kicked up, consuming more and more smoke, ash, and blood from the surrounding area. Dust, grime, anything light enough was picked up soon enough, either crumbled or burnt to complete ashes as it joined the tornado above.
The smell of burnt flesh and blood had gotten so much worse, causing him to gag and cough even through the scarf. It got so bad that he had to fall to his knees, letting go of his scarf as he kept dry heaving into the crater now empty of any personal belongings. Only the ashes remained constant, whirling around him with the smoke only making his coughing worse.
The wind howled in his ears, thrashing his loose clothes every which way and deafening his senses. His throat felt like it was on fire, ashes and particles tearing the soft tissue apart in every breath. He had started to choke at one point, his hands clawing at his throat in a pathetic display of helplessness.
Those eyes never left him once. Staring and staring and staring and staring as he faded more and more. Never moving, never talking, never blinking. Tears fell from his eyes in waves, the droplets barely making it an inch before the winds took it away as well.
He was dying. This is what dying felt like. A slow, painful way to go in his memories. He didn't remember this. He was never near the demon who did it. This never happened.
That’s what he thought.
The pain was too real, too specific to be something his brain made up for no purpose, the feeling too familiar to discard as just another part of a wacky nightmare. The surrounding building cracking and crumbling to the clouds of smoke becoming a fixture in his brain as he trembled on the floor barely conscious as the last bit of restraint was pulled away.
Pieces of drywall, brick, and ash came down all at once. Tang closed his eyes as he trembled on the floor. The first time this happened, dread, fear, and helplessness had engulfed him, Allan’s determination being the only thing pulling him through that mess. The second time, he had Cian for support, a voice grounding him to the situation at hand so he could get his ass out of it in one piece with Zach.
Now, though, he only had himself: his weak, cowardly, pathetic self, and wasn't that just a terrifying, dreadful thought to have? That without anyone else to lean on, to rely on, to leech off of, he'd be left for dead even in his own head?
The building collapsed inward over its own weight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tang woke up with a start, an awful crick in his neck making itself known as well. He gulped in the air greedily as he reached a hand up to his throat on instinct. His throat was completely fine, no burning sensations to be felt as he kept breathing heavily.
However, he did feel stretches of raw, tender skin over his neck. Feeling a hand over his neck, it was most likely scratch marks from how thin the marks were, how they slightly burned, and how he could see some redness under his own fingernails, too. Did I do that in my sleep? That seems a bit concerning…
A smack on the side of the truck spooked him out of his stupor, making him jump in surprise and turn towards the noise. “Heya, sleeping beauty! Finally awake?” Rick jokes, leaning on the side of the truck with a piece of rope hanging over his shoulder.
Tang just blinked slowly in response, unsure of what to say. Before he could reply, however, Harrison came up to the other side of the truck with a clipboard, glaring across the vehicle towards the other.
“Step away from my assignment, Rick. I need to give instructions and you can socialize all you like after your head dismisses you back to your tent. Glasses, come with me.” He said curtly, turning away from the truck and starting towards a small tent on the outskirts of what used to be a city if Tang had to guess.
All that was left was scorch marks and rubble, he's guessing something caused by explosives based on the earlier conversation in the medical tent.
Rick rolled his eyes dramatically before walking off with a wave in Tang's general direction. Tang could only huff at the antics before scrambling to get out of the truck and running as fast as he could to catch up with Harrison.
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