The air was humid and stale, every step he took, Adam Kadmon felt like he was getting farther and farther away from some ineffable truth.
The off white eggshell of the wall was running over, it seemed to be melting in real time. There were numbers here, not the strange and sad puppets of a warrior king (he hoped to never see one of them again) but actual numbers, rendered massive in yellow paint. They were counting down, the one he just passed was the Roman numeral for 17, smaller text also in yellow was written in the folds and creases of the number. He glanced up, and read the text in a second.
It was a prayer for Serach. The traditional one that he had heard almost daily from Capacity. She would pray in secret when the two of them were alone. She must have thought it would be hard to explain her continued faith to the others. That dated the construction of this maze to hundreds of years ago, far before his time.
A crack from behind him. Heavy breathing.
”Hello friend? Fellow traveler?” Someone said.
He turned. Peering from a crack in the wall was a massive eyeball, the wall around it bulged. There was a bulk attached to the eye that threatened further damage, the wall could barely contain it.
”OH!! The weapon you hold!” The voice had a quality like a leaky faucet, the wall pulsed with every word.
He looked down casually, he had forgotten that his Remark was still drawn. “Yes?”
“That is- it reminds me of an old poem, that's all, something something fallacy something”
“Very old.” He said, nodding slowly. “I am a stranger in this land… and you are?”
”Call me Just! Just Just!” The thing in the wall laughed. “I am strange… and this is my land!”
There was a shot like a cannon. A flame of invert-birds swam above them, calling out in screams that were pitched down to match Just’s laughter.
“I’ve been told a man named Lemure claims to rule this land.”
”Claims to!? He does! You cannot shit in this town without him knowing about it. But we’re not in his town, he has no dominion here.”
”My body says otherwise”
He showed off a new scar on his forearm. The eye bulged out grotesquely as the pupil dilated and flicked and flitted around in the white.
”Yowza~! That’s some serious damage. They don’t play around here, a fella like you-“ It stopped speaking suddenly, like a record when the needles taken off. “You’re no fella at all.”
Adam kept walking. He didn’t look, but he heard the shakes and groans of concrete breaking as the thing tunneled through the walls to keep pace.
”I remember more of that song you know! Everything as it’s meant to be/ And everything succumbs/ The Remark Of Ruins a fallacy and on it… and on it…”
”And on it this world runs.” Adam turned. He was only slightly surprised that despite the distance and impossibility of it being the same, the crack where the eye showed through looked identical to the one 200 feet away. “Perhaps you can help me, Just. You seem knowledgeable, and you have not tried to kill me.”
”Not yet!”
”Yes, not yet.” He looked down and snapped his fingers several times before asking, “does Capacity Kill mean anything to you?”
“No, I have not.” The creature said slowly. It seemed to have thought the name was an action.
”What are you exactly? Can you come out from the wall, do you live there?” He leaned forward. From the edges of the eyes he could see something pink, like raw flesh.
”I live everywhere!” The cracks around the eye spread in whorls. “And you live there, in a body not your own.”
Adam looked both ways. It was quiet, but silence was like empires, easy to break.
”I am in a body that is dying.”
”It’s already dead!”
”You know what I mean!” He smiled with one side curled, just as he had seen Chaucher do.
The massive eye blinked a few times, sentences were started and abandoned, until it finally said, ”How much longer do you have?”
He shrugged, and it made his back itch. “I do not have long. I am looking for transport.”
”And I’m looking for meaning. Perhaps we could help each other?” The eye looked away from him and the wall groaned. The slithering sound of something massive scraping against cold metal. He couldn’t help but picture the slugs that he ate in DriedGasp, only ten times as ponderous.
”I got something here for you- yes! This one!”
The eye disappeared and a fleshy tendril replaced it. On its end was a long dead corpse that had been pierced through the skull. It hung limp as Just rattled it around.
”Yes! This one! A beauty! I found it here! I did! It was here first and I gave it meaning and purpose. Glorious purpose!”
The tendril reared back and then thrusted the ghoulish body at Adam’s face. It had ragged burnt red hair that had lost much of its color, pale blue skin, and a ragged coat with elongated script on either side of the zipper. There was no face for Adam to look at, the meaty tendril had taken it completely.
He held out a hand, just to feel the body.
He could smell the body’s Remark, it was quite strong. The smell of a thousand cuts and the life that would follow.
“I can bind you to this vessel. Your Remark and it’s… stronger than both.”
How to disengage without appearing impolite?
”It’s alright. I already have someone in mind.”
The thing called Just called out after him, offering body after body, but corpses would not do. He needed someone living before his current body gave out.
The voice came back, she was looking for him-
.
.
.
She fell back and gasped. 51 caught her by the scruff of her neck.
”Easy there, Devon.” Her view shifted from the pore-covered ground to the sloping walls of the Memframe. In its reflections she saw Adam. He was walking away from some sort of aberration that threw bodies after him.
Tremble stepped into view tugging at her hair. “Impeccable eyes Devon, I see the way they peer into forever. I always knew you would be of some use. Though I would have never suspected that use would involve having a psychic connection with a mass killer who’s trust I have already earned.”
She’d give Tremble fingers if she wasn’t certain the older girl would kick her ass.
The trip there had been absent of incident or any further visions. Each team had agreed to breach the Memframe from a different direction. This wasn’t a concern, as with Devon on their team, she’d be able to figure out Adam’s location and bring them straight to him.
This all under the assumption that Adam couldn’t just turn off the psychic link, or that the effect hadn’t already worn off. It scared her. What was she supposed to do if he never came back? Lie? Deliver some crawlshit and maybe miraculously stumble on him through dumb luck?
“Do we have good news Devon?” 51 asked. Their tone was strict and to the point. They rubbed the fleshy bits of their Remark with a bored luxury that felt pointed.
“I saw him, there was some fucked up aberration, a lot of bodies.”
“The profanity is not required.” They hooked their Remark (named FourLovers, as 51 had told her multiple times on their way up) into the vanilla colored wall.
“The wall had letters and numbers on it. X,V, and eleven.”
They dug FourLovers further into the concrete, making it squeak.
“I don’t know where that is. Or anything else.” Devon said. “Thats all I got.”
Their effect went flat. Four Lovers was gingerly removed from the wall, 51 frowned, as if they were regretting the damage they had caused.
One of the reserve members stepped forward, she kept her hands behind her back and had a lisp. She was wearing glasses, but Devon couldn’t remember another time she had seen her wear them, so maybe this was just a fun thing she was doing today. She started talking excitedly about having seen that symbol all the time when she was a kid, eager to be useful.
Even though she never verified where she had seen the symbol, and if she was even talking about the Memframe, 51 and the others took her word as bond and let her lead the way.
It was fine with Devon. She was happy to no longer be the center of attention.
Tremble sidled up to her, hissing softly behind her mask.
”Did I tell you I locked eyes with a pleasure killer and survived?”
”I don’t kill for pleasure. No one does.”
She bit her lip. Tremble didn’t seem to get hints, or even comprehend of a situation where she was not wanted. “Yeah. You met Adam. Guy seems… pretty bloodthirsty.”
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“I was his friend, his greatest ally. The two of us could have ruled this world with a new and savage fury.”
”I talked to her for five minutes.”
Devon smiled, and she got lucky with her timing.
”Ah, yes. It is funny in the spiritual sense, yes? Comrades in arms, the doctrine upheld by death. I could have been the next great Opinion with him, but he did not expect me to be so strong in mind that I could not be broken.”
”I don’t understand what she’s saying.”
The words at the moment felt more like an echo. These comments weren’t intentional, they felt involuntary, thoughts being puked out.
“What does he want exactly?” She asked Tremble.
”Transport.”
“To rule the world, to close his arms around GutWorth and subvert the pillars of violence until we all live and die by his edict.” Tremble said proudly.
”No. I’m not her.”
51 was far ahead, letting the girl with the glasses lead. She could talk… somewhat freely.
“So, just Morgan Lemure again, but better?” Devon said.
Tremble started to nod before catching herself, slickly changing it into a wide no.
“Morgan Lemure killed a DeathWyrm, Morgan Lemure has a legacy.”
“Oh, does he? Would he have if he hadn’t killed our mayor and taken over the guard?”
”Lemure’s was an opinion that won out.”
”Yeah and-“ she lowered her voice to a whisper, “who’s to say this guys not stronger?”
What she was saying was crawlshit and she would have admitted to it if pressed. Lemure’s Legacy had been here too long, she had grown up amongst the corpses of failed revolutionaries, counted time in sanctioned executions, found what little fun she could in the propaganda of plays.
A single person couldn’t topple this.
But, it was fun to fuck with Tremble. A sentiment reinforced by the sudden shriek she immited as a response. “Devon Near! Is Adam corrupting your brains with his mental broadcasts? I’ve never heard such heretical words break through before, not even the most hardened sinner.”
‘You could have stabbed him in the back then if you didn’t want his mind waves contaminating peeps.”
”I wanted to bring this traitor to bear in front of Morgan himself, killing him would have done awful things for my ego. We must stay humble, lest we embarrass ourselves.” Tremble fiddled with her mask. “You know, you were different before the shifting waters.”
Outside of being far more miserable back then, no she was not.
“What happened to that boy? Is he still down there, long dead? Probably. Oh, this is wasted time. I’m talking with a somnambulist, this is all so beneath me. I need to go. Report your betrayal.”
The scraggly girl rushed over to 51 with a pep that was frankly insulting. Immediately she started talking the poor head of Numbers off with the sole goal of making Devon’s life worse. When she was done whispering all the terrible no good stuff Devon had said, she beamed at 51 and waited for their feedback.
51 gripped Tremble’s face with their large practical fingers, opened their jaw, and rapidly whispered what seemed to be a series of curses into her left ear.
Devon didn’t feel like she should have seen this. No one else seemed to notice or care.
51 released their grip and patted Tremble on the head, who walked away dazed. 51 turned their sights to Devon.
”Devon, come back up here.” Their demeanor was end times preacher, face cheery with nothing to hide. “Come on, we’re gonna need your help.”
She obeyed. Tremble passed her, shaking softly. “It’s not fair,” she muttered, loud enough for Devon to hear, “it’s not fair.”
They moved through passageways and tunnels, encountering towns with no doors or windows, massive empty spaces with no clear purpose. Every now and then they’d hear wild laughter or human screams, a reassuring reminder that life still existed here. The screams of aberrations were another matter. And 51 would always hold their hand up and reverse course when they heard these.
She was handed a drink in their manicured hands. “Drink up, you’re dry heaving.”
“T-thank you.”
“You know I told her a secret, one she thought only she knew.”
”What?” Devon looked up at them, not getting who they were referencing.
”Tremble, the other one.”
”Oh.”
51 hopped over a metal cog, buried in the smooth sand, “I know secrets about everyone Devon, including you.”
The drink they had handed her suddenly felt dirty. She handed it back after only one sip.
They laughed as they stowed it away, like her having second thoughts was a punchline only they got. “But I can’t tell you yours. Maybe if you do something awful, then I’ll tell you yours.”
They had come up to a large window of some sort embedded in the wall. Golden shudders with intricate symbols had it locked up tight, contrasted with the thick white goop that had trickled out and amassed in a pool on the floor.
Above the window was the words “Receiving Area B” in yellow letters, and above that, written on still fresh cardboard, was the message “hit the button for reception!”. In the space below the window was a little ledge that held a bright purple button.
Slorth, Lemure 33 at the moment, was hitting the button over and over again. It didn’t make a sound.
“Does this look familiar at all?”
“The writing does, yeah.” Same font and color.
A black and white pattern appeared on the ledge, choked out by red and orange overgrowth that grew just as fast. The Adam like insect was being chased by another across a vast corridor of statues.
”I wish I could live without killing others.”
SLAM. The massive brute punched a chunk out of the ledge. Bye bye statues, bye bye Adam bug.
”The button doesn’t work.” Slorth said, sounding genuinely hurt.
“I can see that.” 51 said, not taking their gaze off Devon. “What did you see this time?”
Oh. 51 could tell when she was getting visions. That was troubling, especially when that one was so low key, staring ahead and saying nothing was her default, nothing to rouse suspicion. “He was fighting 44 I believe. Running from him.”
“Hah!” 51 acted like they had just won a bet, “where were they?”
”a field of pieces for games we have no use for. I remember leisure, I remember when violence could be micro-dosed.”
She conveyed the overgrown statue room to the best of her ability. Adam’s steady monologue of increasingly cryptic observations made it hard to focus on what was real.
”That sounds like a Parley board.” Someone said, an older man with a sopping wet beard underneath his mask.
”I remember playing that, takes me back!” Another said.
Her dad once had a board, she would take the little men and horses out and fight imaginary battles on the kitchen floor. But the only clear memory was the day where he threw the board into the river and went on a rant about leisure being co-opted for violence ends.
“There is a long line of death that reaches straight back to you.”
For a second she couldn’t tell if that was Adam or her father.
The Parley Board wasn’t far away apparently. It was right on the outskirts of the Memframe, they could get there within ten minutes.
51 took her by the shoulder and escorted her forward. “Extremely helpful, my respect for you goes up every minute. Name a reward.”
”I want a new apartment where all my needs are met. One I never have to leave.”
They laughed. “Well, everyone’s expected to work. Everyone’s expected to duel, we have a moral imperative to keep Death sated. But sure we can work something-“
A scream like a thousand chainsaws. No one spoke. No one moved.
The reception window burst open from the weight of a thousand pounds of meat. The aberration lacerated Slorth and crushed what was left under its heel.
”Fuck. We got an aberration.”
The power of an aberration could be measured by the number of sharp points on their body and the innate terror one felt in their presence.
This one was built like a bag of week old garbage. 90% of its mass consolidated in a fleshy, unctuous black orb, five spindly limbs sprouting out in ways most unpleasant.
Three were roughly legs in a tripod shape, and then two bone thing arms that ended in heavy blades. That added up to five, though counting had never been Devon’s strong suit. In the direct center of the body was a mask made out of electrum, a flattened shocked face with a droopy moustache. There were other masks, draped on the body like medals or prizes and far too many than she could count (things got fuzzy past the fifties for her), but this one seemed to function as the head.
”Is this a class 2 or a class 3?” Someone said.
”Does it even matter?” Someone else responded.
A flattery of Remarks came out, there were eleven of them here and there would be eleven Remarks. But there wasn’t, because she couldn’t fight this thing. Not with a Remark at least. Grand, give her a gun and she could try, but at the moment-
The older man, the one who moments ago was talking about Parley, was caught in the gut by one claw and had his head shattered.
-she grouped up with Trav and Lemsk. The two were back to back, no room for her so she got behind them. She turned around because people were dying in front of her and she didn’t want to see that-
51 cut off one of the aberrations legs. It bled electrum and reared back only to charge forward and take down two. Tricks didn’t work on aberrations, that's why they were aberrations, raw power was the only language they spoke.
-coming out of the wall was a tired haggard man. Adam, probably Adam. He looked far smaller than she expected. Was this real? No, people don’t come out of walls. That's stupid, Devon. He-
The girl with the glasses was thrown at the wall so hard she exploded on impact. Her blood went from bright pink to deep purple as it stained the walls. Her secret bone hit someone in the eye. “Grand, thanks!” They said, before breaking the arm of the aberration. It cried out like a steam whistle, its masks rattling.
-was picking the worst fucking time to try and call.
“Capacity”
“I don’t know who that is!” Behind her people were getting slaughtered. She was stained with the blood of others and after the high of being needed she had never felt more useless. “I’m about to die, I’m about to fucking die.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. You’re about to die? Curious. There was no emotion. This guy didn’t care. Why would he?
The shadow of the aberration grew and took the place of Adam. He was gone now, miles away and with no concern for her cries.
She heard the sound of retreat, fall back. She didn’t blame them. Oh yeah for sure in like, a visceral selfish “hey buddy I’m a person too, don’t just up and abandon me!”, but logically she wasn’t miffed. In fact, culturally, GutWorth had been preparing her for this day.
The one where she faced Death, and offered her hand.
She summoned her Remark. A dead fish fell into her arms and spasmed pathetically. Her father’s eye looked up at her and the pupil dilated. Yeah buddy, I know. I’ll be joining you soon.
May I have this dance?
The aberration chattered excitedly, drool of a yellow tint piling at its broken legs. She swore she recognized the face of the mask, right before it raised it’s arm and-
A quick treatise on power. Specifically its ability to offer and convey weight. GutWorth was a backwater of a backwater, the duelists unaware of all but the most rudimentary techniques.
That power, the sheer aura alone of Adam Kadmon, finally in the flesh, is what killed the aberration.
It dissolved into a film of matter Devon had no words for, it cursed out what might have been a name before being utterly erased from this world.
And the man had not lifted a finger.
He was bloody, tired, and shivering. He had just demonstrated a level of power that could build armies and topple nations, and he was shivering.
He coughed something thick and meaty up, before immediately stomping on it. “That was… a mistake.” Hearing his voice in person was so different than in her head. The acoustics had been ideal, but now in person she could hear the strain in his voice, an awkwardness as he adjusted pitch, and realized he was shouting. “I don’t think I can do that again… how are you?”
He spoke like he knew her. He smiled like he was seeing an old friend, and she felt gross and awful.
”Capacity, do you remember me? Do you remember your Remark?”
