#as broken down as Husk was in the moment he recovered with incredible grace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grim-faux · 3 years

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2 _ 25 _ Rain Splattered Walls

First

The incident with the factory left him more… run down than he first anticipated.

He exerted a generous sum of his powers and energy to keep the building stable, bar the child from the intense heat, and locate a manageable exit without taking out a wall. Upon succeeding with that tall-tall order, he didn’t regard how badly it affected him until much later.

When he tried to pass through a television.

It was routine as always. He pulled the boy through with him, barring the unit from an unfortunate incident. For a while Mono hadn’t been keen about going near the televisions, and getting him to cooperate was becoming an increasing issue. Usually once he dumped Mono on the other side, the child would scramble for cover, due to his vicious electric repulsion on nearby objects and furniture.

He didn’t get his torso all the way through, before he was deflected back through the transmission. Mono had looked up, his hat nearly flew off in shock when he abruptly vanished.

Landing back on the other side of the device was punishing. Static sizzled, reminiscent of the way it had always felt when She hauled him out of the televisions when he tried to traverse the winding hallway; not dissimilar to how it felt, when he first departed the Tower after so many decades of waiting. For a while he lay stunned, the adverse feedback thunderous in his thoughts. He could barely process what happened, as he lay like a collapsed folding chair beside a cupboard. The television sat on a food preparation counter; climbing up into the screen and then through onto another level or whatever was never a problem. It wasn’t a problem.

For a while he’d know he wasn’t in top performance. Since leaving the industrial shack where he first had a pause, since crawling from the imploding factory, he’d known. He was much glitchier than normal, his usually frazzled outline nearly unraveling. Phasing. That he hadn’t really tested… much. A few of his other abilities, such as tempering time, were not in top performance. His pace was dulled, and that prompted Mono to give him odd looks.

Speaking of which, here he comes. Also, the television just ignited. After the little palms flickered within the glass and the whole child came flying out.

Mono did an impressive skid off the counter, did a midair flip, and landed – straight board – flat on his back way below on the floor. Particles of gray cinder drifted down around him, while the burnt husk of the TV crackled.

“How very helpful,” mused the Thin Man. The boy’s stunned state began to unnerve him. “Mono?” He reached out and nudged the chest, only to confirm yes indeed, this child was out cold.

Sighing, the Thin Man collected the boy up. “Again.” Technically, this time wasn’t Mono’s fault. As always, he made sure to pluck up the hat and pocketed it.

The graceful dive did save the tall thin man the indignity of someone witnessing his haphazard method of climbing all the way to his feet, out of his crumpled state. He was much-much more bedraggled than he first judged, and even if standing without a flashy glimmer wasn’t an issue despite his disproportioned build, this time his limbs were not cooperating. However, after waging war with gravity and bracing himself to the counter, he managed to steady himself on his own two feet. A triumph.

This is why he decided to take refuge in the tacky suburban district not far from the industrial region. It was as far as he was willing to venture, with the Viewers out in abundance roaming. He wasn’t confident with a confrontation.

All the dwellings looked identical and he supposed the interior was the same copy pasted layout. He didn’t manage a search of any, opting only for the first he could force into without straining his fatigued powers. It was either the fourth or fifth, the door was locked but not barricaded. Once secure inside he gave the rooms a cursory investigation, insuring nothing lurked within to surprise him.

Plenty of furniture sat loitering around the rooms, damage remained limited to the structure’s own shortcomings – the wind picked away the outer skin, while water sloughed through the walls, and the weight of time crushed its resolve. The deserted shelter burdened the onslaught of its environment, leaving enough of the interior withstanding.

The boy he bundled up in a jacket and left on a spare couch in one of the obscure rooms. Mono would be all right, but the Thin Man needed quiet and inactivity for a time.

He slumped in some secluded interior room, no windows to speak of, only two entries connecting it between a spare room and a stairway. He didn’t make it to the chair, toppled on the far side of the room with other furniture pieces. He didn’t care. If he wasn’t cautious of his state, he might dissolve into the airwaves. That wasn’t too upsetting to consider. Whatever happened or didn’t, he needed to be still for a period and do nothing.

Like in the Signal Tower, biding away the invisible tally marks on some obscure, nonexistent wall somewhere. Waiting for the door to open. Done. He’d had it with the world. He wanted nothing more to do with such trifles.

Time being a vague concept is nothing revolutionary in the Pale City, of constant downpours and dense overcast – the only substantial indication of times passage being the suffocating night and all its rolling black. However, this endless encounter with the nocturnal is impossible to court when buried and lost deep within the bowls of some building, with no clear indicator of a way out, no natural light – however stingy it is – one collapsed construction rolling into the next shattered exoskeleton of its neighbor. The endless graveyard civilization had become.

The Thin Man has no grasp of how long he sat. This duration became reminiscent of his penance in the Signal Tower, decades discarded to the turmoil of his fate. How petty and pointless the world was, how unnecessary existing in it became after unyielding punishment. He did reflect how minimal an effort it would take to dissipate him now, not that he cared. It was just idle rumination. His fate all along was to be discarded – by his one friend that girl, by the Tower, by his naïve younger.

A box of food was left within his vicinity. He does not know where it came from let alone why it is there, it just is. It seemed like he barely tipped his hat down once more, and when he raised his gaze a moment after, there was another. For some while he puzzled these items, more along where they came from rather what specifically they were. Some sort of long enduring nourishing treat, or a whole instant meal – he doesn’t bother to dwell on it long. He’s not curious.

Later yet, he raised his hat toward the obnoxious prodding at the hand settled over his knee.

Of course it’s the child. Mono huddled among the boxes and cartons of food things, trying to wrap a scrap of shirt sleeve around his hand.

“Child. Go away.” He brushed Mono back with the hand and flicked off the cloth piece. “Find some other… entertainment, and let me be.”

The boy retreated by a few paces and settled down, the ever-faithful coat bundled around his curled shape. “Stre’gth. Need str’gth. N’hurt.”

The Thin Man raised the hand to his hat. Associating with the child alone was a draw. It didn’t feel as if he was managing to recover at all. Looking at the packages, he wondered how long it was that Mono had been foraging. At least the boy had food.

“No,” he rustled through the static, his tenure somewhat scratchy. “I only need A̶l̸o̴n̵e̶ and quiet, B̸o̸t̵h̴ ̴O̵f̶ ̶W̶h̸i̶c̷h̸ ̴Y̵o̷u̶ ̴I̵n̷t̴e̵r̵f̵e̵r̸e̵ ̵W̷i̸t̵h̶.̴” He tried to settle back into the edge of the wall, but instead settled the boy with a glare. “You̶ ̴A̶r̷e̴ ̷N̶o̸t̷ ̶H̵e̷lping.”

The voice piped up, “Wut need?”

Faster than a whip could crack, the Thin Man snatched up one of the boxes and tossed it at the entry leading to the next room. Beyond the doorway, the container POPPED! against the wall and scattered elsewhere. “I̸̩̊̊̂ ̶̢͐̇͑T̷͉̾o̶͓͚͘̚l̸̮͉̬͗d̷̟̓̔ ̸̳̖̽̈̕Y̵͔̒͠ó̷͔u̸̖͌͘ ̴̟̭̼͑̋͠I̸̗̐̽͒ ̷͕̻̬̿Ň̴̪͆̎e̸̦̯̮̋̅̑ę̸̳̘̐̕d̸͕͔͊ ̸̡̘̄̕Ä̵̧̖̣l̶̨͝ơ̶̥͕̙̄͛n̷͈̦̞̑ẹ̵͕̚.̷̻̖͇̾̓ ̴̤͋̿F̴͓̽ȋ̷̗̳ń̶̬̪d̷̦̫͒̀͝ ̴͍͍͋Ỷ̷̞͚̬ȏ̵̩̝̒͂ů̶͕ͅ ̶͔͌̈̈́S̷̯̳̾o̴͔̞̤̔ṃ̷̂͆̈ͅe̴̖̻̭͝ ̸̞̗̋͒̚O̶̢̦͋͂t̶͈͒ẖ̴̓̀͊e̷̲̽̅��r̸̪͊ ̶̛̦̾D̴̜̰͚̾͐i̴̘͐͜͜s̵̙̉t̸̳̞͑r̶̦̚ã̷͓̖̫̈͠č̸̼̳̈́ť̶̳̠͝i̶̻̔͝ỏ̵̧̩̍n̸̼̑.̶̣̤̹̒͐̊ ̸̢̖͐̀̑͜R̷͖̙̊̇͝ṳ̶̘͛n̸̪͓̈́ ̷͈̒̊O̴̝͔̗͑f̶̘͉̒͜f̴̝̗͒ ̸͍̥̅ ̵̩̗̩̋̐Ǐ̴̳͎ ̸̬̓̿̆D̶̻̣̓̅o̷̮͂n̵̗̊̂'̵͍̭̊̕T̴̯̅͊ ̸̩̳̈̊ͅC̵̢̜͎͆͆ä̵̢̘͠R̴͉̓͒͊Ě̴͓͕͔.̶͓͍̔ ̶̹͛M̵̰̞͕̈́̇a̷͕̜̐͌̚Ķ̶̋Ȩ̴͇̩̎̉͐ ̶̱̑͐͝Y̷̤͉̚͝ͅö̵̱̘̖́̃ù̶̱̬͔r̸̰̀̃͜Ŝ̵͓̌E̷͈̐͂L̸̩̺̒̒F̷̦̗ ̸͖̼S̵̩͓͈̃́c̶̛͈͌̓Ā̵̧͍̹R̵͉̹̓́̋C̶͖̕E̸̥̱͆̈́.̵̭̮̬̒̉̈”

Finally the boy got the hint, and he tore out of the room, zipping out through the opposite entry and the hiked up the stairway.

This allowed the Thin Man to deflate against the wall. He didn’t need the child being a prodding nuisance, staring at him, muttering in his broken dialect. It was the boys fault he was in this state, whatever it was he did to that factory – getting lost in the middle of it. That boy knew better.

“It calls to me.”

It was the first time they emerged from the buildings, the endless rolling carcass of skyscraper interiors, the dark corridors and hallways that made up the world they now inhabited. The only world they came to know – broken and run down, mold infested walls, damp crevices – the trusty flashlight cut through the murk, excavating the dangers from the dense gloom choking out the somber blaze of stale lamps.

For a time, the two children acquainted themselves with what damp was, and how fleeting that was. Though Mono reflected She endured better than he was, since the drowning onslaught of weather didn’t appear to bother her much since she same into the very lovely raincoat. Unlike his amazing coat, drenched in his sweat and grime, and whatever else he traipsed through. The raincoat let the world slide off it, the colors vibrant even in the stark despair of the collapsing passages beneath floorboards. It was an incredible find, a rarity in the world they shared. It was Her.

He… isn’t sure where it happened. When it began. Something was different now. More different than Six now having a color. Since they accepted pack. He’s not sure when or how. Something is different.

Mono was soaked within moments upon exiting out from the bore out hole in the elevator room. They checked their surroundings, an open rooftop with a narrow exhaust spout. No dangers in sight, the only movement a waterlogged shirt flapping over a partially shattered rail. A vast spread of buildings rolled through the landscape around them, so tall and numerous he couldn’t see the streets twisting below in the brewing mist.

And something more.

High and higher still, barely perceivable in the early dawn (or suffocating dusk) the most imposing and massive structure to exist ever, challenged the skyline. Much of the ominous Tower lay obscure within the veil of downpour, but at its highest spike, a gleaming light pierced through the scratchy veil, skewering the storm with dominating clarity.

Six was the one to brush ahead of him, go to the edge of the roof and stop. She gazed out into the jagged capped tops of building roofs, now so miniature and wretched when compared to the backdrop of the master spire. She gazed beyond to the Tower, and beyond that yet. Perhaps envisioning the perilous journey which lay ahead. Seeing beyond that even, to a world they couldn’t grasp. A place that could never exist, since they didn’t know what could possibly exist aside from… this world.

But Mono… felt the dreadful buzzing writhing behind his eyes, and braced himself against the horrible thrumming pressing within his eardrums. The falling rain was no longer an overlapping thread of droplets, but the twisting churn of static from one of the televisions. He was compelled to reach out to the distant monolith, somewhere in the vibrating lines he can make out… the hallway, swaying side to side as he conducted the signal with skillful ease. Someone is there behind the door – since when was there a door? If he reached it, all his questions would be answered. All he had to do was run toward it, and never stop. Never.

Snuffling, the blood trailing from his nose peppered the inside of his paper bag. Rather reach for the Tower and all its promises, he snatched the hand of the girl at his side.

“It calls to me,” he mumbled.

Beside him, the cunning yellow raincoat shifted. She didn’t understand. He understood less. But together, if they stayed together, they could survive. They would survive, because they had someone to reach out and grab for.

The child was gone. Good riddance.

The boy did not go without imparting a few items. More food containers littered the floor, among that are toys of various shapes and creatures, and a few vehicles. Blearily, he wondered how long he was out. The sitting and waiting was monotonous, the dormancy seemed to help, though not by much. It did not seem to improve his mood or strength.

This time he was able to resituate himself in a glitchy pulse, the small collision of knickknacks nearest to him repelled back in his shift. Some distortions persisted to haunt his form as he moved languidly from the secluded room, and roved the other areas of the home. One hand traced the walls in case he lost his balance, the other he kept bent behind his back. Once he proved no more use to the boy, the child left. That was reasonable, Mono was in need of certain things and the Thin Man was no more animate nor more useful than a spooky chair. Even a chair had its use. Even a chair was better company.

Heh.

With his explore of the abode updated – nothing changed for the most part – he found his way to the kitchen and dining area. He manipulated one of the chairs away from a shaky table and took a seat. Leaning heavily on his arms bent across the tables surface, he tilted his head and hat to examine all the wrappers and other packages massacred across the chipped linoleum floor. Insects crowded the ruptured containers and other bits of plastic wrappers, all of which lay stained with foods. It didn’t appear anything survived the child’s initial attack, however long ago that had been. By the smell of it (and he didn’t really want to smell it) it must’ve have been a while ago. Only vermin rifled about, eating more cardboard and dried glue than crumbs.

Thus far, he had not been upstairs. The lower floor was safe, that was good enough. However, upstairs there was a television. He could sense it. Not that it could do anything, nor did he care, but all the same it awaited.

For another interval he disconnected from the dismal world. Waiting, he could do that. Shutting out the world got him through many long spans of his miserable existence as occupant to the Signal Tower. He was a master of such tactics.

In his travels as a small-Er child, he learned many things from his various packs. How to identify danger areas, the many ways to trick traps. Where to find the safest foods, what to do if he became ill. How to survive, and why that was important.

But the Tower. The Signal Tower, the Flesh, and the all-seeing Eye – they showed him the truth.

One of the chairs skidded away from the table side, but not by his whim. A hefty box thumped upon the table’s surface, right after, the paper bag popped up. The Thin Man suppressed the crooked smirk – ah, the nostalgia.

The boy scooted the container across the dusty table surface and shoved it against his fingers. The blank cutout eye holes of the mask peered at him, as the child shuffled back. Nothing lay within the flat stare of the paper mask; it concealed the face of a oblivious little child.

Once more Mono shuffled forward and nudged at the box.

“Why do you insist on tormenting me? Does it amuse you?”

Mono cracked the top of the lid and rustled at the inner packaging. “Y’hurt.”

“I am not hurt.”

Without raising the mask, the boy tore out some food bit and set it beside the Thin Man’s fingers. “Sleep. L’t.”

He prattled his fingers atop the box container. “I am not sleeping.” Then, he took the container and tossed it off the table. “I need quiet. Go… do whatever it is you do, when I’m not around.”

As expected, Mono dropped off the table side and retrieved the food box from among the swarming insects. He fought and shook, flapping his coat about as he struggled with the aggressive barrage of nippers. With a well-aimed toss, he secured the box atop the chair seat and soon joined it. He persisted to shake out the swarm, even after hefting it and himself back onto the table surface.

. “Bu’aam fix,” he whispered. “Take c’re. S’Important.”

The Thin Man couldn’t restrain the laugh that boiled out of him. The lone lamp in the corner of the kitchen flashed and burst, if not for the window on the other side of the home, the place would be settled into darkness.

“Heh. Excuse me,” the Thin Man hummed, failing to the wrestle the thick chortle under control. Oh, the irony. “You can’t fix this. You cannot fix anything. The sooner you accept such facts, the better you will be.”

Mono sat crouched over the box, legs folded up and arms coiled over his shins, the blank face of his paper bag mask studying him. Was he trembling? His sides vibrated with each rapid breath.

“Aam fix’t,” he croaked. “Can’ll do. G’nna do.”

Such valor. That fortitude in the face of utter despair was the first to desert him in the Tower. The child was a mess, both figuratively and physically. Once again, Mono was soaked in grime from the filthy streets, the layers flaked off the sleeves and shoulders of his coat; his legs as well, stained by everything.

The Thin Man sat up straighter in his chair and held out the hand. “Come here, child.”

Mono abandoned the food containers and withdrew a few feet, shaking the bag swiftly. Before the man in the hat could change his mind and reach, the boy was out of range and over the edge of the table. He didn’t search for where the child went or see him depart, but he knew all the same when the child abandoned the home completely.

Eventually, that boy would get the hint.

In the meanwhile, the Thin Man roamed aimlessly through the rooms, and sometimes ventured to the upper story to peer out the windows. He supposed if he had yearned for a simple window within the Tower, the impulse would not be a difficult desire to grant himself. Even to build a fake scenery of a world he would have preferred, a lie, the thought that he must have fallen for many-many days and nights before reaching the bottom of that ghastly pit, would squelch all enamor for a treat. Besides, what would he need scenery for? What was there to look at? To dwell upon? He held nothing dear, but the nightmare of his fate.

“I miss you.”

Sometimes he preferred sitting in the secluded room, in the dark pseudo void. Though now, he fixed one chair and sat it upright. Just like the Tower. At times, he did miss the blissful ignorance, even the maniacal cackling within the fortified walls – mocking his idiocy. He didn’t care. Let Them laugh. With a thought, he could send them away forever. But then….

He would be truly alone. And forgotten.

Then there was that boy. He came and went as he pleased, while he remained entombed in this rotten house among scattered rubbish piled in from wherever the child crawled off to. The desire to abandon this miserable smear on the map mounted, but he was not there yet. Not confident to venture through the roads, risk encounters with the lurking residents, let alone the random disintegration of the roads beneath his feet. Though falling into an abyss was more tolerable, than spending another moment in the presence of his younger-self. That child couldn’t leave well enough alone.

This was all his fault. The boy didn’t grasp that, or refused to accept it.

Usually when the child crept in, it was with some food item. Sometimes a bone of all things, what was wrong with this child? Other times, he hauled in some large toy and dumped it off. Mono didn’t really come into the room, but scooted the encroaching clutter inward. Then for a time he would disappear, upstairs he suspected.

By now the hoarding wasn’t isolated to toys or random foods, but other items such as purses and shoes, children’s books mixed in. Jewelry and chains, shiny pieces of metal, a hammer, a wallet, some stock card with printed speek (faded), a toupee, a ball of yarn – to name a few.

For the televised life of him, the Thin Man couldn’t put what all this was meant to achieve. Let alone, what spurred the impulse.

Of all the gall, inevitably the child would come to the room and peek in from the stairway entry. “Hey,” he whispered. “D’s help?”

It did not. He wanted the child to disappear. But he said nothing, opting to conserve his reserved energy and dip his head down. Eventually, the child grasped no response would be forthcoming, and at last shuffled off to… elsewhere. Not gone completely, by the faint tinge of the Transmission, but close enough.

While the child made himself scarce, a stale sort of peace settled over the repugnant dwelling. As far as he was concerned, it wouldn’t be long enough. The hush was soothing to an extent, and he could listen as water murmured within the hollowed spaces of the walls, reminiscent though tame compared to the dull chatter throughout the depths of the Signal Tower.

For an interval he disconnected from the detestable world, and focused only on the shrouded veil, nestled in close to the static output of his interference. At times he dipped into that bleak place his mind nestled in when he came to terms with his fate and what the world meant. He fled into placid thoughts with nothing substantial, a null which cushioned him against the harsh truths he had come to accept.

Nothing existed beyond the walls of the Tower, aside from lost causes and the fantasy of survival. At the end of the metaphorical day, what came of surviving the hazards? Nothing but an empty existence, and the melancholy inevitable. He was so tired of it.

The Tower had not the need to do anything, to interfere or abate at all in his childish scheming; not before nor after he brought the boy to its doors. The Flesh with all its endless Eyes, all seeing the cycle and all the iterations. It simply bided by, snickering, jeering at his endless demands for answers to pointless questions. Merely knowing did not grant insight, the mass could have been forefront with the truth (might have been with its methods) in the ever-winding knot of an endless cycle, he would know no different. Likely, he wouldn’t have cared.

It was such a childish notion to expect anything more from a world, which hated him. After all these years, he forgot what he initially hoped to achieve in the failed journey. Except when She was taken. He did recall the vibrant drive to venture to the Signal Tower, all for his F̵r̵i̶e̸n̸d̵. Though not much before… that. Not a lot, before realizing the Signal Tower would gleefully welcome him through its doors. As if greeting him home after such a long, drawn-out time of waiting.

The thought was nice though, to think of a place waiting for him.

Upon one of the occasions the boy emerged to drop of some… item, he gave in and stood from the rickety chair. He shuffled among the abundance of discarded curios, flashing and reappearing closer to the entry leading into the stairway.

Mono scrambled down the other corridor and dove into the next room, well out of view. The Thin Man made no comment nor sought the child, but commenced clicking up the steps to the upper floor.

The television was somewhere in the upper story, however, the Thin Man had not actually seen it let alone located its actual whereabouts. Not until he located the pull string of the attic, embedded with the ceiling. On his silent demand, the spare slot for the stairs unfolded down to the tattered carpet. In a distorted glimmer, he was already standing in the spare space above.

Not a lot of interpretation is available about the attics space, the area vastly different from the storage room cluttered by the Hunter. Some furniture and boxes sit stacked at the furthest ends of the sloping ceiling, a confusing mass of toys huddled around the television unit. On the chairs fixed facing the unit, lay the usual description of the past residents. The television whirred on at his presence, yielding under his demand. He—

“Bet’Er?” the voice piped up, from the edge of the attic steps. He barely glanced the child’s way.

“Yes.” He knelt to the television and set a hand against the glass. Beneath his fingers images flashed through rapid sequence, at times darker static faded into the blinding radiance, outdated images of people, melodies croon through the garble of voices.

“Make good? D’fix?” The child crept closer to his arm, observing intently as he tuned the transmission.

“Yes, you did very good. A mighty job it was,” he hummed. “That was so impressive.” The boy scooted back a ways and observed without a sound, grays and washed out blues glided across the featureless surface of the paper bag; as if he himself was a screen projecting what was witnessed.

Quietly then, beneath the crackling electricity and the roaring winds blasting the roof, “Far search. N’trict. T’at right. But f’r broke. Aam fix.”

Sigh. “Indeed. Proved me wrong. You fixed everything all on your own.” He settled his other hand against the screen and let the streaming signal haul him through, as effortless as a twig getting swept into a turbulent current.

Arriving on the other side – mind muddled by the brisk dip in the transmission – the nearby shelves and other furniture repelled from his abrupt intrusion. Threads of static and buzzing particles prickled across the nearest surfaces, such as vanity desk and open wardrobe cupboard. As he withdrew completely from the television screen, a door hanging loose on its rusted hinges popped free and tumbled to the floor.

The Thin Man only uncoiled a portion of the way before flashing, and relocating away from the surface of the bed. He gave the small room a short examination, as he fixed his collar and closed in on the doorway. It was doubtful this residence was occupied given the clothing left on the floor, but it wasn’t worth it being careless now.

At his back, the television gave an agonized sputter before the child sailed out. Amazingly, the television didn’t self-immolate, but he didn’t pause to marvel. He moved on through the crumbling corridor to a disintegrating room, the floor gone and much of the ceiling caved down revealing the next room above. Either a bathroom or kitchen, given a severed pipe gushed water across the wall it was mounted to.

With another glitchy sputter, the Thin Man relocated himself down below to a mostly complete ledge hanging within a doorway. He tipped low and stepped through, beyond the threshold lay a short and creaking passage. Within, the lamps glimmered at his presence as he clicked along the uneven floorboards.

A miniscule grunt was barely suppressed in his wake. The boy either jumped or made to shift, as he had. He didn’t dwell on that much, aside from the recognition that the child was following him. As always. Not that he cared to discourage it, nor regarded it much. The boy had nothing else to occupy his time.

The Thin Man reached the end of the buckled corridor and stooped into the next room. Under his usual tapping, the ruptured floor growled. One side of the room crumbled under the weight of splintered furniture, and along the wall trickled runoff from elsewhere. This side of the dwelling didn’t have windows but if he explored the other rooms, he should get a sense of the dwelling’s situation. Aside from it caving in on itself. The location was bare of threats, but the structure was on the verge of collapse.

What was he doing?

He pressed a hand to his brow and suppressed a groan. This was pointless. Nothing would amount from all this… whatever he was doing. Really. What did he think he was doing?

Searching over the drab room, he spied the child huddled beside a mostly dry space of the wall. Resting.

“Child.” He leaned down and tapped Mono on the shoulder. “Get up. You cannot rest there.”

Mono shook the paper bag. “Mm-nhh.”

Very well. He straightened up and began looking through the dim room, still disoriented from traveling through the television. His strength still waned, but slowly he would recover. The boy however, he should have stayed. Nothing existed beyond the walls of the Tower, not for him nor Mono.

He looked down and addressed the firm tugging on his ankle.

“R’okay?” Mono rasped. “Not n’good. Wus wrong?”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the question. “I won’t stop you if you’re intent on staying here. But I’ll not be waiting.” At last, he found the broken door of the dwelling’s entrance and stepped out, taking the left into the corrupt and sullen hall. He didn’t care if the child followed. He really didn’t. His plight and its conclusion was long overdue.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from looking back for the paper bag. Regardless that he knew without a doubt through the shared transmission, the child would follow. This boy he didn’t know, couldn’t begin to understand. Intent to pursue him wherever he went, despite how unnecessary it was.

The last act he could grant for Mono was insure he had somewhere to go. No doubt the child would be far from receptive, but Mono would follow faithfully to the ends of the city. It’s core, as well. Without question, doubt, or protest. The boy would know no different.

For a time, he had something to think about. That was reassuring.

Without a word, he returned to his current course and resumed clicking down the corridor. Periodically, the lights shimmered against the disturbance of his presence, while his thoughts mulled over what was preferred and what would be right. He trusted without searching that Mono would do nothing but follow, as the child was drawn to him through the transmission of the Signal Tower. Maybe it was for the best. Perhaps like him, the boy was helpless but in seeking him out.

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