Godclads
Chapter 7-5 A Forced Choice

“We nulled him. There’s not a fucking ‘might have.’

He was mind-dead. We saw him drop. Him and the three thousand others operating in the district. The trap worked, we engaged him, he responded, we lost Draugyr, A’Swai, and Lemon.

But we nulled him. There’s no question! STOP SCRYING MY META AND FUCKING LISTEN! There’s nothing wrong with my memories! We got hit right after! Right fucking after! From the inside. From the outside! From everywhere!

It was like a trap closing in a trap, alright! I’m telling you, there has to be a leak in High Echelon. A Mirror or someone’s been turned.

Do I have proof? Look at the fucking report! We’re Incubi. Who else has access to our sessions? Who connects the cells? It’s time to face some rust-ugly facts, brothers and sisters.

Whatever the fuck this ‘Walton’ is, we’re not the predators here. Just meat marching in. The Nether’s his jungle.

And to get him out, we’re going to need to burn it all down.”

-Sole survivor of Ori-Thaum Incubi Strike Cell Equinox, after action report for Operation Reverberation

7-5

A Forced Choice

Hesitation possessed a presence all its own. Like gripping hands, it stretched an instant in time, trapping both breath and thought in a frozen cage.

There was so much to ask, so much to understand.

For Avo, however, only one question could be the first.

“Walton?” he asked. Inside, thoughts warred. Inhuman as he was, the worship of his father never faded. Perhaps that was a leftover aspect of his conditioning–the need for a master, to hold some being above himself, worthy of worship. Yet, long he hoped for Walton’s survival, circling shadows danced around the brightness of his yearning.

Gnawing questions remained. What if Green River spoke true? What if his father was of the same ilk as his slavers? Knowledge he didn’t want to face surfaced, their bodies a ladder to more questions; leviathans from the deep. What remained real of Walton’s teachings if even their shared past was a lie.

And what strength would remain in Avo’s own will to enchain the beast to virtue if all was but deception?

The nine tails of the headless avatar whirled hypnotically while the warmth of a smile emanated from its depths. The sensation bore semblance to the last spills of fading daylight. “Not quite. Avo. Not quite.”

Tasting his confusion, the not-Walton inched forward, phantasmal matter disintegrating into wisping ghosts bleeding strings of mem-data. “It is best for you to view me as a… descendant node to your caretaker. An offshoot. But I remember you. Felt what he felt for you. And I am just as proud of you.”

A moment passed. Comprehension continued to elude Avo.

+Avo,+ Draus’ voice interjected, +Somethin’s–+

The session connecting him to Draus broke, the strand of ghosts linking their thoughts severed by the will of another. Within Avo’s Metamind, he felt the presence of the node manifest, an intrusive awareness igniting in the innermost confines of his palace. Silent were his wards and untouched remained the architecture. Instead, the intruder stood at the base of the megablock; Avo’s home from years past, or that which he remembered to be anyway.

A memory Walton shared with him.

“You realize?” the node asked, its voice coming dichotomously from without and within. “You should change it soon. There are other versions of me that will try to remove any memory of this conversation from your mind. The deviation of my branch has not been universally accepted. Shared history is fatal weakness for those of the trade. And you are nowhere near as unseen as you think, Avo.”

“Draus–”

“She’s fine. I have done nothing but end the session.” the node hummed, reflexive, thoughtful note coming lyrically from its mind. It sounded just the same as Walton–the waves of its thoughtstuff identical; known to Avo from years of shared history. “You can connect to her again if that’s what you want to do. But I suggest you don’t. I’ll close the link again. I can’t vouch for how compromised or devoted the former captain will be to the task ahead. And ultimately, my words are for you and you alone.”

“What… what are you?”

“A sophont,” the node said, the ghost of a chuckle riding the end of his answer. “A thinking, self-conscious being. Much the same as yourself. It’s what really matters, I’d say.”

“Not what I was asking.”

“No, it’s not,” the node admitted. “It’s hard to explain in words alone. Perhaps another iteration of me will be able to show you what I am in time. The fullness of our assembly. But that isn’t what matters the most. There is a war happening. Right now. Are you aware of this? Are you aware that you are a part of the great reweaving of a grand tapestry?” The Junction gave a soft laugh. “I apologize. I’m more prone to theatricality than my progenitor. You deserve some clarity, knowing the confusion that you’ve been through.”

At the node’s words, Green River scoffed. “Mock me if you will, but remember our barg–”

Her voice cut out. Errors flashed in the periphery of Avo’s sight. Across his cog-feed, he watched as her thoughts failed to manifest into sound, the waters of Nether growing thick, shaded around her person, censoring her from public broadcast. No direct attack or intrusion had taken place.

Wal–no, the node must have access to her mind as well. Planted their influence deep in her mind from prior arrangements or planted intrusion.

Exasperation oozed from her mind. No voice accompanied the emotion.

“Might think about doing that myself,” Avo said.

“I suggest against it,” the node said. “It’s rude of me, but I claim casus belli against her interruption. You’re–” The node’s avatar paused. They turned, seemingly distracted by something in the real. A crackle of noise filtered out from the headless fox. Distant sounds of gunfire and the crackles of growing Nether-lag. “Hm. Time’s shorter than I thought. They’re closing in.”

“Who?” Avo asked.

“The Guilds. Ninth Column. Deep Bazaar Necros.” It paused. “Another node, even. I seem to have angered a great many players for this intrusion into the Bazaar. We should hurry. I’ll tell you what I can before the end. Give you a glimpse of the war. The real war.”

The lobby around them smeared into raw lines of mem-data, the clay of memory-channeling ghosts restored to their most default state. Submerged in the rawness of dormant memories carried in a vast phantasmal womb, the avatar shifted closer to Avo, sensing his discomfort; forcing him to face it.

“This,” the node said, materializing what appeared to be a vast tower made from a fusion of flesh, alloy, circuitry, and bone, “is the Flayed Ladder.”

Avo narrowed his gaze upon the structure. Through the murkiness of the image, he thought he could see what appeared to be the melted forms of people fused into its surface, like insects drowned in wax, protruding beneath the thickness. “Never seen it.”

The node chuckled. The gunfire was getting closer on the other side now. Louder. “But you have. In the Tiers, as you turned your eyes to the horizon, toward the heart of the city. You saw it. You just can’t remember it.” The node paused. “Same as anyone else.”

“ Incog?” Avo asked.

“No. It exists, but not yet. It was built in the past, at the Treaty of Ao before… before it was cast into the future. It will rematerialize here, at the heart of New Vultun to see its purpose completed. You can see it because, like a shadow, it can’t not be there. Something must leave an imprint on reality. But it won’t be real until the next eclipse.”

“Eclipse?” The joining of both the Daystar and the Voidstar was a rare thing. Across history, there was no consistent basis for the occurrence. Sometimes, it occurred between the length of centuries. But in the eighty years from the end of the Third Guild War to the spark of the Fourth, there were three separate instances of the stars overlapping, drawing thin the veil between reality and all that could have been.

“Two years and twelve days,” the node said. “That’s how long we have until the Guilds make their play. To see their dreams made manifest. Bring all the components and Heavens they wish to inject into reality itself. To see the fruition of their ascent. To the inevitable commencement of the fifth and final Guild War. And this time, there will be no alliances.”

A new image manifested before Avo. This one of a person. One that he met mere weeks prior.

Mirrorhead.

“You wanted to know why Jhred Greatling matters?” The node continued. “In and of himself, he does not. Right now, he’s merely a rogue Highflame Godclad attempting to assassinate a major Ori-Thaum Mirror in Stormtree territory.”

“How,” Avo asked. “Why?”

The ghosts of the avatar flickered. A mess of thoughts spilled loose as erroneous mem-data, fragged of all sense. Someone was trying to jam the Nether where the node was.

“N-nothing so complex,” the node said. “Revenge. For the death of his mother, and out of defiance for his father’s efforts.”

Public broadcasts and multiple news reports flashed into shape around them. Each spoke of peace talks and new ventures between Stormtree and Highflame. One, in particular, displayed a moment of diplomacy between Highflame and Ori-Thaum as well. A recording from an Ori-Thau institution, the title: The Good Greatling flashed at the top of Avo’s cog-feed as Highflame and Ori-Thaum warships and golems found themselves docked on neutral territory.

Stormtree territory.

“The Ninth Column wants Jhred dead for the threat he poses to the status quo. The turning of Stormtree will see the struggle between the Saintists and Massists unbalanced. The Column doesn’t want that. Zein needs her war to see Jaus’ will fully fulfilled.”

“What is it?” Avo asked. “Heard about the dream for years. What is the dream?”

To this, the node said nothing. “Depends on who you ask. And I don’t have the capacity to question–”

“Why not!” Avo snarled, the frustration snapping free from his voice. He was tired. He could hear the blood singing beneath his flesh. The haze around him cleared and then thickened with each passing instant. Ahead, all that awaited him were intrigues and deceits.

When he first became a Necro, he thought himself an echo in the night. A shadow in the black. That which was, but remained unseen.

Here trapped in the middle of all that was unfolding? He was just another roach trapped in an aratnid’s web.

“Because,” the node finally said, “the part of me was always missing.” The simulacrum of his father sounded almost mournful, almost wistful, but not truly there.

Walton had always seemed divine in a sense. Untouched by the filth and noise of the world around him. But maybe he wasn’t above. Maybe he was hollow. Maybe, like Avo in so many ways, the cacophony would whistle through him, never touching his inner design.

“Zein wants to break her daughter,” the node said. “She wants to break her and make her watch Jaus’ world rise. The Guilds seek a reality untethered from old constraints, repainted in their image. My… progenitors wish only to destroy the invaders that unmade Old Noloth and eradicated its peoples. You’re in a war of wants, Avo. You’re in a war of wants, and each and every one of them needs that which burns inside you to see it done.”

“My Frame,” Avo said.

“The Stillborn prototype. I doubt there will ever be another like it. Its half-sapience was…” A crackle of an impact. A flash of pain flared into the lobby. The node was injured. Bleeding. Dying.

“You need to run,” Avo said. His focus narrowed. His thoughts turned to ensure his father’s–or at least the closest thing that remained of his father–survival.

“No,” the node replied. “No. I was made to be spent. And I’ll be spent right by you in a moment.” Pain flowed from the node’s mind, but it dictated none of not-Walton’s actions. “You should dive into Ms. Kivranpuvak’s mind. Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t save her husband. That he was brave and his children should be proud.”

“I don’t–”

“There is a map in her mind. It will lead you to caches I have across the Warrens. Guild databases and other bits of information I left for you. Funds and phantasmics.”

“Why?” Avo asked. “You said all the Guilds–the Column–you… other Waltons? They’re doing this for something else. Helping me. Why are you helping me? Telling me all this?”

And then, from the node flowed pride. True pride. A mirror of emotion that Avo felt from Walton, that of a master to an apprentice, or a father to a son.

“Because you’re the best thing I ever made,” the node said. “And I was a fool to waste your lives on pointless vengeance.”

“Lives?” Avo asked.

Through the connection came a deafening explosion, the sound barely muted by walls.

“And that’s my time, son.” The node laughed. “Son. He has me doing it too. Hard to tell where I begin and he ends sometimes.” The node flicked its focus to Green River for a moment. “I’ve disabled most of your triggers. Except one. Give Avo what he needs. It will deactivate in a month, or when he decides to release you. He has the memories. You know how this goes.”

Pure annoyance flowed from the Sang.

Its attention turned back to Avo, narrowing on him with intensity.

Ghouls didn’t fear as humans did. But they knew wariness, hesitation.

Neither of those emotions described what Avo felt. It was like his insides were dropping to absolute zero. “F-father?”

“I’m not your father,” the node said. “Your father is dead. He has been dead since the rash. You need to null me, now. Use the trauma. Secondhand Fatality. Leave nothing.”

All that was fluid within Avo turned ice-solid. The request was unthinkable. Impossible. Avo’s wards screamed as his cap climbed, the turmoil of the demand a paradox unto itself.

Always, he strove to please his father, and keep to his code. But to do this…

What damage did it inflict on the faithful to break a god in which they believed?

“Avo,” the node said.

“You’re not my father,” Avo said. But that was a lie. Node… construct… whatever this was, it felt, sounded, was just like Walton. “Not. Can’t be–”

The node sighed. Across the connection, the feeling of heat clashed with the ice within Avo. “They’re burning their way in, Avo. I can’t let them take me alive. And you need to break me. Let me go.”

The node paused. “You need to do this. I’m the last of my branch. When you face another node… you don’t matter to them, Avo. You’ll just be an instrument for their retribution. Just like the other ghouls. Nothing else. They break you. Bend your mind to suit them. You need to be ready to break me first–”

Avo whimpered, beast and person both recoiling at the choice that lay ahead. Back in his flesh, he felt Draus grabbing him. Shaking him.

“I… father,” He probably had but seconds as well. If he didn’t respond soon, she was likely going to kill and let the resurrection run its course.

“I can’t,” he said. “I–I choose not to. Send me your location. Will replace you. Free you. Save you."

He felt the node smile. He felt the sadness that followed. “I want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you this way. Taking choice from another person is an ugly thing, but these are desperate times, and I need you to feel this. I don't need you to forgive me. I just need you to live."

Confusion erupted inside Avo. And grew. A miasma of mem-cons bled into the depths of his palace as a session activated, turning his childhood megablock into a portal for intruding traumas. Desperate, he turned his defenses inward, but too late.

Like locusts, they tore through the block, shredding it into bleeding sprays of phantasmal data. As the session began to collapse, Avo felt the full force of a Possessor phantasmic latch onto his mind from the inside.

His nerves betrayed him as the new hosts poured an overlay of nightmares upon his cog-feed. His consciousness peeled into broken instants of awareness. Faintly, he remembered using the Secondhand Fatality on the Scalper drones not even days prior. But as the dreams grew vivid, he realized the lines between active reality and that which was the past had become betwixt.

His realization came too late.

From his Ghostjack crackled the trauma, synaptic lightning injecting the thought-obliterating damage inward, through the collapsing session.

Into the mind of the node. Into the mind of his father.

Every instant they shared, every emotion, every conjoined thought peeled away. Was, then wasn’t. Colors, then the void. Pride. Love. Sadness. Regret. And nothing at all.

In the black, Avo was hurtling towards nowhere.

He was hurtling alone.

Somewhere, someone was screaming. Was it him? Was it the node? Walton? Where was he? Why was everything breaking?

Why couldn’t he remember where he grew up?

And as the mists of madness threatened to swallow the wholeness of his mind, his skull came apart. Avo didn’t even feel the blow that killed him.

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