1 laza/Paradigm - Chapter 8: Post Mortem Retrograde

I don't know how much time has passed since I sat down, only that I've been seated for so long that the texture of the steps underneath me has probably imprinted itself onto my ass. Using the number of homeless men that have passed me as a unit of measurement for time, I got to around 1,738 hobo rotations before it became too tedious to keep count. The sky hasn't changed color since I sat down either, remaining the same trademark cloudy grey that it was when I left Pook's place. Tired and hungry, I couldn't be bothered with walking around trying to find anything, so being the genius that I am, I decided to climb into one of the passing carts and let the handy helper behind me do the walking instead, and that's where I've been since.

"Do you think if I shout out loud enough, they'll come out?" I ask to seemingly nobody, the metal underneath me rumbling as homeless man number 1,739 pushes me and his cart down the never-ending road.

"If it were that simple, I would have suggested that earlier. And besides, do you really believe that that will work?"

"Not really, but I'm willing to do anything at this point." Letting out a yawn, I scoot forward enough so that my body can lay down inside the cart, my legs dangling over the top. "I just wanna go back to my couch and sleep..."

"I'm not sure why they haven't shown themselves yet. There's definitely another Servant inside this loop, though I can't tell where exactly. Is it alright if I look around again?"

"I don't see the point, but go ahead."

With that, she possesses my bad exactly how she did in the apartment. Bringing my legs back inside the confines of the shopping cart, she puts me on my knees, slowly looking around for anything she deems out of place. All sensation from my skin is no longer mine, the nerves of my body following the command of a brain that makes orders against my will. Taking into consideration this time the backlash that my body'll feel once she's done, Diatra gently turns my head side to side, gazing around the monotonous scenery that surrounds us. There's a slight burning in both my chest and eyes but not as painful as before. We're both looking around with the same pair of eyes, but she's definitely seeing a whole lot more than what I am. Doing one more 360 in the shopping cart before giving back the control to my body, I slump over the edge of the shopping cart as the fatigue starts to settle in immediately.

"So... did you see something...?" I somehow manage to ask her, struggling to breathe with the aching in my chest and the awkward position my body is in.

"Apart from the numerous copies of the same vagrant, nothing else is there. I'm starting to think that perhaps you are being starved to death."

"I doubt it. If that were the case, they would've left me alone without the copies. Not saying that I'd want to eat ol' buddy behind me, but if worst comes to worst, it's not like he's going anywhere." Peeking behind me, the man in question doesn't seem to have a reaction towards the possible foreshadowing of his death, continuing to push the cart forward as stoically as ever.

"I suppose so," is all she can say in response, words bland enough to end the conversation.

In certain situations, typically the situations in which my view on reality isn't as skewed as it is now, the lack of noise in itself would often bring me peace of mind. It's only right when it replaces the wailing from government vehicles and far off gunshots at night, an occasional chopper thrown in the mix if the city's gone hectic. Not a breath exhausted, nor a word uttered - The current state that we're in is silence at its absolute form. An eerie silence, unnerving to say the least.

A type of silence that makes one wary of everything once it's been noticed.

The rumbling underneath me had gradually become soothing the longer I've sat in the cart, so having it suddenly stop made me feel some type of way to say the least. Number 1739 had stopped the cart in the most abrupt manner possible as well, so bashing my knee into the cart only added fuel to the fire. Irritation aside, having all homeless men suddenly stop their carts in unison is something I'm not sure how to react to.

"Hey, big man. You good?" I ask him, waving my hand in front of his face.

He doesn't react at all, gazing blankly in front of him as he remains perfectly still like the clones behind him. Not breathing. Not blinking. I poke him a few times, going as far as pushing his head back, but the man doesn't budge at all, both his body and the cart fixed to their positions. I'm not allowed time to assess the situation either as, quite literally right after everybody froze, the door to one of the buildings surrounding me bursts open, a tanned man walking out from it.

Dressed in a white muscle shirt and ripped skinnies, I recognize him instantly. Apart from his shirt missing a huge bloodstain and him having a mop of hair on his head now, his appearance is exactly the same as it was in the alleyway, like the event had never occurred in the first place. The very same man who I had witnessed kill himself is standing before me, only this time his body doesn't have a smell to it. That can only mean one thing.

"He's not dead, if that's what you're thinking," says Diatra as I jump out the shopping cart. "Not entirely, at least."

The muscles in my body are tense again, screaming for me to choose flight instead of fight. With only a few feet separating us, the world is still, the slightest movement capable of disrupting whatever this standoff is. He doesn't rush at me or do whatever crazy shit Wisteria and Sayuri did before, but just stands there, observing me.

"Your name is Edgar, right? Edgar Montierrez?" It's only been days, but his name is still imprinted in my brain, along with everything else.

That's the one thing I hate the most about the black vein state other than the actual killing. In that moment, not only am I forcefully driving somebody to their pitiful suicide, but I also end up learning about them. Learning about who they were before that moment, what they've done, and who they loved. I learn about everything that makes them who they are: the good, the bad, the neutral. In a way, I become acquainted with that person in that moment, only to see them kill themselves in front of my eyes. Unnecessary baggage is all it is, and from the most recent duffle bag added to my collection of memorial luggage, there's a lot that I know about the man I killed in the alleyway, enough for me to tell that whoever's in front of me isn't him.

He responds with words of gibberish, speaking in a language that I can't recognize. It's definitely not English, and if it was Spanish, it wouldn't be any of the shit that I was taught. It's all in his voice, but somehow, it sounds like a completely different person is speaking.

'Diatra, you understand any of that?'

'He's speaking in Fovan tongue, Doremic base. Fortunately, most words in Doremic based tongues have a direct translation to this world's English language, so if you just let me do this real quick...'

She does something to my brain, everything inside my head turning to mush in one split second. I fall down to my knees, the process ending quick enough to let me stop myself from eating complete shit but not quick enough for me to ignore the pain.

"Oi, 'ya good?" Edgar asks, now with a British accent for some reason. Hand in his pockets, he taps his foot to a slow rhythm, looking down on me as I struggle to stand.

"Yeah, I'm alriiiii- awreight, awlight-" The words I'm trying to say don't match the movement of my lips, words I've likely never spoken leaving them. 'The fuck did you do?' I think out to Diatra, touching my lips as I mutter other words to myself, all ending with the same bizarre result.

"I've shared a small amount of my knowledge with you, just enough for you to be able to converse with him. Your body will instinctively respond in his tongue for now, and your brain will translate whatever bits of Fovan it can into your language."

"Has your short stay in the loop driven you mad?" Stepping up closer to me, he sits down with his legs crossed, hands still in his pockets. Like me, his words don't match the movements of his lips, almost as if somebody had turned on the SAP option but in real life. "I apologize if that be the case."

"Nu-nau-nouw, juss hafing trauble speking," I reply abhorrently, almost choking on my own tongue.

"Good. Your pronunciation is scuffed, but you understand enough to respond, so it'll do. Before I go any further, I'll let you know now that I'm not the one that wounded one of yours, Diatra. I had to trap you two here to throw off your pursuer, but the young lad is in no danger. I hope you'll forgive me for that as well."

"Tell him I said that it is fine," Diatra calmly orders me as I sit myself down as well.

"Sh-she said it's fine."

"Much obliged, Vein Goddess," he bows his head, "To clear up any misunderstandings, the one after the Exiled Whisperer is indeed a Servant with Zeno's blessing, but they're no longer one of ours. They've sided with Kura."

"Who're Kura and Zeno?" I ask, but before he responds, my body is taken over once again without warning.

"Don't answer him. And get to the point if you haven't already. If all that's to come out your mouth is information I already know, I'd rather you let us leave." Her words come out like ice from my mouth, my eyes staring coldly at his. I've never given off this much condescending energy in my life, and I can't say I hate it.

He isn't fazed from it, however, a slight smirk forming on his face. "I must say, the replacement isn't as intimidating as he was, but I'll refrain from saying anything more. As for 'getting to the point', there isn't one. I was just curious as to how the Exiled one looked. A conveniently timed whim is all."

"Then care to tell me why I'm still in here?"

"I'm merely prolonging the inevitable. The second I stop this loop and you return to the present, all that will await you is the one I'm hiding you from. Had I been sent here with my physical body, there'd be no issue, but seeing as my current vessel wants to be stubborn and needs its body back, it won't be long until this test of endurance of mine meets its end and all control I have over this body returns to its owner."

"That is rather unfortunate. I assume your Whisperer is preoccupied? He would have negotiated with me to have your body sent along with you otherwise. Perhaps he's losing his control over his Dara?"

Hearing the words she's saying come out with my voice feels so... odd. I can barely grasp an understanding of their conversation, but I'm holding onto threads at this point. I doubt even with context that I'll be able to fathom whatever it is they're saying without seeing it with my eyes.

"We'd all be frozen for eternity if that'd be the case. I'm not sure why he didn't come in contact with you, only that he didn't. And on the topic of frozen, I don't think the bloke there will remain stuck for much longer," he says pointing at the third person in the conversation. Standing up with shaky knees, he clutches his head. "Yes, my time here is drawing near its end. May I ask that you take care of this body for when I come back?"

She sighs irritably, standing up as well and patting my body down. "I'll take it with me, but anything that happens to it after its host wakes up is not my responsibility."

"I'll be able to come back by then hopefully," he says as he walks closer to us. Diatra lifts him up over my shoulder, every muscle used in the process screaming in pain. Held like a potato sack, possessed Edgar takes one final breathe before his body goes limp and his head slumps over.

All homeless men start to vibrate uncontrollably in unison, rattling their poor shopping carts until the wheels nearly come off. From all directions, the copies of the homeless man glide towards the one nearest to us, some going through walls while others coming from underneath the road. More and more continue to compress themselves onto one body until finally, the overwhelmingly loud clashing of metal begins to dim. In less than a blink of an eye, the shade of the sky turns from gray to pitch black, and an entirely empty road is now filled with cars on both ends of the road. A car honks at us from behind, the homeless man that's been there the entire time now gone, and along with the streetlamps shining down on the filth-infested sidewalks, the moon glows brightly in the sky. We're actually back...?

"Get off the fucking road!" yells the owner of the honking car, beeping his horn a few more times and banging on his door for emphasis.

Diatra doesn't respond, causing him to open his door and come out, but before he can even take a step forward, something - no, someone - crashes into the hood of his car, sending glass flying everywhere and completely crushing the car. The impact alone is strong enough make the earth shake, all cars nearby bursting into a discord of set off alarms. The man is sent flying into the walls being him, his entire body bouncing off the bricks and staining them with fresh blood.

'The fuck are you still doing here!? Run, dumb ass!' I shout at her, but she doesn't move an inch. The entire street is quick to open their doors and blinds to see what's going on, whoever it is on the car having singlehandedly woken up the entire neighborhood likely.

Hopping off the crushed vehicle, they land on shattered glass with bare feet, stretching their legs back and letting out a groan of relief. "There's still some tension there, but oh well..." they grumble to themselves, shaking off the pieces of glass stuck in their foot. With no concern over the destruction they've caused, they take a look around, raising a brow and scratching their head. "...Why is everybody staring?"

With bronze skin and a set of dreadlocks reaching down his back, everything about him looks fairly human. I'd say he's around my height, only with a lot more mass on his body. Tattoos run along his bare chest and arms, the angle I'm looking from letting me notice certain stab scars near his gut. With appearances alone, he'd intimidate the crap out of most people, even more, if they're someone built like me, but with the smell, he's giving off, I can tell there's more to him than meets the eye.

It's obnoxiously sweet, filling up my nose with headache-inducing sugar capable of rotting every tooth in my mouth. With my legs and arms aching from every movement she's made, the intoxicating smell drowns me in sweet pain. Diatra's seemed to have taken notice of his out-of-place presence as well, turning around completely and meeting his eye.

'What is he...?'

'Cain, I'm afraid I'll have to do something that might scar you for life right now. Please know that I'm doing this to keep you alive.'

'Wait, what?' I exclaim, but it happens before I can say any more.

The foreign beating in my chest, the one that I've slowly gotten used to over the year, has stopped. It doesn't hurt, but my brain's too occupied on yelling at Diatra to register any pain I'm feeling right now. I'm not the one in control, yet I'm the one that's feeling everything. It's all turning black, and I don't know if it's only me or if it's the both of us, but it doesn't matter.

Darkness overwhelms me, and my world is no more.