Eternal Hush/background
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Contents |
Arrival
Years of practice, reflex now, clamped her throat shut before she could scream, and she awoke. The sheets, damp with sweat, stuck to her skin and were twisted in her fists. Of course the nightmares had followed her here, she couldn’t have hoped they’d ever leave her, it would ever leave her. Her heart pounding, she slowed her breathing, doing the familiar exercises to regain control of herself, and everything within her. The clock’s neon numbers told of too few hours of rest, but the bed was cold and clammy and the adrenaline rush was still buzzing in her ears, or was it the chasm in her mind?
She kicked the snow white duvet off her floor level mattress and rose in a fluid motion, belying her stiff muscles and ignoring the lingering thick fog and curling tentacles that coated the room, swirling coldly against her sweat-damp skin.
She turned on lights in the spartan studio, lighting a few candles while stretching, loosening fear clenched muscles. An open window dissipated the thick, oily smoke that had collected during her brief unconsciousness. She tried not to worry about the emergence – her resources to keep it shut down were stretching thinner, even as she was gaining more control over the use of antagonistic powers within her. (or maybe you’re just having fun…you don’t want to give the power up) Her ability to keep the focus, the balance, the peace that held the demon’s forces in check required constant attention these days. It called to her to use the power it offered, no longer was it a fight to find each new skill, each new ability. It was only a fight to turn its use to her will, her choice, and when she let go her constant vigilance the demon had been proving that it was ever more vigilant, waiting for her to slip. Waiting for its chance to come into the world through her.
She turned the shower on, steaming hot and washed the remaining evidence of her disquieted sleep away, beginning the preparations for the day with steam and burning aromatic herbs, letting her mind purify itself with her body.
The rewards were greater here than she could have thought at the monastery. With the monks she was safer, yes. If she lost control, if the demon moved to the surface, they could combat it, force it back again. They had perfected the techniques when they first found her, too young to understand, screaming as her skin oozed darkness that the human mind was not designed to see. An orphan at that point (patricide…murderer…its always a part of you, not something you can run from) the monks first found and fought the demon that choked her mind and stole her body from her, then taught her to fight it.
They perfected a system of ritual bent on self knowledge and control. Meditation, holy relics, martial arts, a code of behavior, all factored into her ability to beat back the darkness and claim her spot as a free willed human being.
She could keep it at bay, becoming almost normal, by the time she was twelve. It was a golden time in her life, when the monks were preparing to release her back into the real world. Nothing dark had come through her body or mind or soul for months…and eventually nearly years. No chittering creatures clinging to the ceiling when she woke up, smelling of sulfur and injuring those around her. No moments of lost time that resulted in destruction when she came back into herself. No pools of black liquid or smoke pooling in her room and reaching to strangle people. No nightmares of all the shapes the darkness can take. And not a whisper of the voice that caressed her mind like motor oil and chilled her to the core.
She had moved to the dormitories, not sleeping alone in a stone room, confined in a circle of candles with a chanting guard. She laughed and sang and went on trips to nearby villages, her western features drawing stares. And then she went to bed one night and didn’t wake up, as her self, for almost three months. The demon had been storing strength, building pressure in her like water behind a dam. Finally, it broke loose. When she woke, bound to stone, surrounded by fire and armed men chanting in languages she barely recognized, she knew her life had changed forever. Her hair had bleached silver and she felt she could never get clean again. The monks refused to tell her the toll from the ‘incident’. The dormitory was rebuilt by the coming winter and she went back to sleeping under guard.
Her teacher decided that the darkness, the demon that was determined to use her as a portal in this world, would have to be released, a bit at a time, slowly and under control. It was not enough for her to keep the demon from breaking through, from taking control of her, she had to fight it in its own space, take its powers away, deny it of its abilities and bring them under her control just as the demon wanted her facilities for its own use. And thus began the painful decade of learning to wrest the weapons at the demon’s disposal from its arsenal to put them in hers. More things were added to the rituals, harnessing every power she could bring to bear, wasting none, spiritual, mental or physical. Routine became a weapon, and sacrifice. Tattoos of mystical symbols, words of power, ringed her fingers, her wrists, her throat, her ankles, circled her waist and outlined her spine. She gave up her voice, the power in silence directed inward, a shield against the ravenous darkness she was tapped into.
With all her strength focused into that abyss, she found she could manipulate it, turn its power to her own uses. When they were satisfied, the monks sent her into the world, to Paragon City, overrun with crime and the baser elements. If she could not be normal, live as a normal person, then she could at the very least help defend that stability and innocence that she had been denied.
The ritual drew to an end, body and mind humming in their perfect coordination, she dressed, threw her mass of hair into a crisp bun, everything about her speaking of power through control, sacrificing natural chaos for necessity. She blew the candles out before exiting into the city’s predawn darkness. It was always dark here, but some could shine.
Who Walks Alone
She heard the footsteps in the fog and pulled the long coat closer to her frame. It had been a long day, her mind and muscles sore and tired. She looked forward to a long soak and an attempt at sleep. More often than not, thoroughly wearing herself out did wonders for her ability to go solidly dormant. The balance was easier these days, full of effort, frantic moments, peace through action, the monks would be proud.
They were still following, heavy treads walking softly. Predators. There was a low laugh in the back of her mind – she didn’t know if it was her or it, but did it matter? Muggings were rampant in the city, and she was heading deeper and deeper into the bad part of town. You’d think the toughs that roamed the streets would figure that the young woman in the pale coat only looked like an easy mark, and that looks could be deceiving, but maybe they only saw the fine wool coat and not how it slid over the fitted armor underneath. The laugh echoed again, swirling snidely over her thoughts, street toughs would find odd surprises if they pressed her. They had before, this group must be new, to not recognize the pale, silent woman who hunted the streets for the likes of them. Or just stupid. That was a possibility too.
She walked faster, not in the mood for another fight. (or do you just want to tempt them, look helpless and scared and lost in the dark and the predators gather. You know this. You like it, any excuse to lean on what I can do for -) she shook her head softly, trying to quiet the voice in her mind.
She heard the shuffling, work boots on cement, a breath here, the whisper of skin on metal, the swish of cotton against denim, the creak of a well used leather jacket. They surrounded her, it wouldn’t be long now. She wasn’t worried, there were more than she could arrest alone, but they would remember the event before she had to run. She kept walking, waiting for them to make the first move.
A lighter snapped and a tiny flame identified her first target, the cherry glow of a cigarette drawing the desired attention to the unkempt man leaning against a wall. Others gathered, weapons gleaming in the moonlight, as he spoke.
“Nice evening for a walk, miss?”
She backed to a wall, the street gang gathering in front of her.
“Have to be careful around here, pretty thing like you, there’s thems that would wish you some sort of harm. Just for walking.”
She was already planning the fight, the shadows beginning to flow from her fingers and the lights dimming in her mind.
“But we’re upstanding folks and would be happy to escort you home, protect you a bit,” the leader reached for the belt of her coat, his fingers barely touching the wool before she flashed into motion. Her hand pressed the icy breath of the Netherworld into his face, his skin wrinkled under the entropy and his screams finally galvanizing his crew into action.
She raised her hands and called forth a sucking space that made motion like molasses, a tiny smile chilling and infuriating those closest to her. She blasted another one and he went down, even as she marked the leader, making him the focus for leaking essence, degrading his comrades by his mere proximity. Her coat dropped to the ground, her shining armor glowing like a torch through the gathered shadows.
“Oooooh! A hero! Dibs on her ID card.”
They attacked back, missing her in their clumsiness, affected by the demon’s powers, less and less able to attack her as she calmly targeted them, high on adrenaline. (and you thought you didn’t want another fight tonight…)
One got a hit through the gathered darkness, then another. She targeted the leader again and pulled pure life force from him, her cuts and bruises healing clean under the blood with stolen energy. Even so, she was tiring, the called patch of tar would fade soon, it was time to think about leaving. She turned for the alley and escape when a gutter cockney accent growled through the howling chaos.
“Some hero you are, pet. Boys, I’ve got this.”
She sized up the muscle who separated himself from the pack. The way he moved screamed professional, quicker on his feet than that much bulk usually was, he had obviously put a lot of real training into his body, as different from the lackadaisical street gang as Mozart to the guys who play for coin in the subway. He took another step forward and she saw the cost he was paying for it – this wasn’t his life, he was just renting it for a bit. She tipped her head and her features softened, the sadness she wouldn’t show for herself, and he wouldn’t show for anyone, but she could see in him bled through her gaze.
The gang was obviously supportive of their champion, she caught his name – Jack – muttered about. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and his fists began to glow, large versions of the cigarette light that initiated this little dance. She found herself again, pressed back against brick and began for the first time that evening to fear she wouldn’t make it home. She mentally calculated how much longer the tar patch would last, and tried to find a balance of attacking, healing, and running that would get her out of this. It’d be close.
She kept his gaze, tipped him a grin she didn’t feel and tossed her head back, letting flames ignite down her arms to settle in her hands, mirroring his own. She started a new mental timer, this time for how long she’d have of her speeded self before she slowed again or ran herself into the ground. The hastening would allow her to use her powers faster, hero training proving useful, but it did nothing to make them lass tiring. Time ticked on as their eyes held.
“Neat trick.” His eyes seemed to search her, appraising her as she had him.
Suddenly his fist slammed into the wall by her head, the brick shattered under the impact and she tried not to jump as the entire wall shook – and he moved not at all. Her eyes went wide and cold, a flash of fear covered by gathering power. His voice whispered softly, barely carrying beyond her ear.
“I don’t want to hurt you, pet. Hand over whatever you use for a wallet to appease the boys and I’ll see you get away clean.”
She glared at him.
“Damnit girl! They’re going to get restless and I’m trying to save that pretty face of yours, see some sense.”
A gunshot separated the night, they had lost their patience already. Hot steel grazed her cheek and embedded itself in the already abused wall. Jack started, drawing up and back, seeking the shooter. She saw her opportunity and ducked under his arm, metal scraping on brick as she slipped by and took off down the alley. She rounded the corner, searching for…yes! A dark doorway, off the path. She dove for the scant cover it afforded and drew shadows around herself as chaos broke behind her. Searching footsteps followed, boots with no attempt at stealth. She pressed back into the doorframe, letting darkness claim her mind, becoming but a shadow herself, her heart pounding.
Jack stopped in front of her and she weighed her narrow options, then he turned and called over his shoulder “Bird musta flown the other way, check down that alley.” He stood as the youths scattered to the four winds, his muscled back creating a very solid wall, pinning her in her corner. Silence fell. He moved to sit on a discarded box nearby. Still too close for her to slip by and stay completely hidden. How long was he going to stay there? The night was getting chill and she wore little enough to keep her warm under the metal suit.
“You coming out, or going to keep freezing in the corner?”
Silence. He couldn’t possibly…could he?
“I know you’re there, and I already said I’m not going to hurt you.”
She sniffed sarcastically despite herself.
“Okay, I said I didn’t want to. Just want to talk a bit, that’s all.”
She dropped her cover and stared at him incredulously.
“Listen, you got a name? I feel like I’m talking to a wall here.”
She teetered between amused shock and complete amazement. Who was this asshole? She grinned and shook her head, good luck finding her name.
“I’m Jackk – two k’s. Some call me Union Jackk.” He held out his hand and she bemusedly clasped it, the powerful grip enveloping her soft fingers. His smile charmed her. She tugged her Hero ID from the top of her left gauntlet and held it out to him, carefully holding her fingers to obscure most everything but her name.
“Eternal Hush, eh? So I take it you’re not much of a conversationalist.”
She giggled despite herself and put her ID away.
“You look like you’re freezing, pet, and that graze on your cheek needs some attention,” She touched her wounded cheek, white chrome drawing away bloody and winced, she’d forgotten that last bullet, “so let me walk you home.” She startled, pulling away, her eyes wary.
“Okay, maybe not, let me walk you to a coffee shop? Well, a place that serves coffee anyway. I know one close.”
“So, you like the whole hero thing?”
Partner
“So why don’t you talk? Come on, just answer me.”
Hush looked around uncomfortably at the ugly tone from her teammate. Nothing good came of these sorts of talks. She didn’t want to abandon the mission, but some heroes were too full of themselves… it wouldn’t go well. The current shiny asshole had been pestering her increasingly since the end of their last mission, finally cornering her at the entrance to the next assignment. He reached for her arm to stop her as she turned away and the gunner’s wrist was caught before his fingers touched her armor. Hush flashed a grateful smile to Jackk as he grinned lightly at her assailant.
“Leave off mate, never heard the bird say a peep, but she’s always had my back. She’s good people in a tight spot.”
He opened the door into the caverns for her as the gunner rubbed circulation back into his hand. “Whatever you say, man”. Hush nodded to Jackk and entered the caves, alert for the monsters said to lurk here.
She had found herself pairing with him, on teams or in duos, more and more often. They worked together without words, protective of the other beyond mere teamwork and into true heroics. He understood more of her signals than others, becoming her voice. He would place himself between her and those they took on, soaking all they could throw at him while she worked to make sure he wouldn’t have to soak much. She would laugh at his antics and found her work more and more joyful when he was there. And more and more empty when she couldn’t find him.
They were hunting in Boomtown when it changed. “C’mere hon, this one looks good.”
She came to stand in front of him, his voice whispering in her ear as he tugged her back another step, his hands on her hips. “See the ogre, right there?” She followed the line of his arm and nodded. “Snipe him. Remember, if they all come, we run, okay?” She nodded again and took careful aim, focusing carefully to pick off just the one he had chosen. They had worked out a system here as well, the two of them arresting the large groups by playing divide and conquer. And occasionally running for their lives, but even that was full of laughter and fun, finding a corner and panting as the monsters searched for them, giggling when they failed and going back on the hunt.
She took the shot and saw in seconds that it wasn’t going to be horribly successful. Too many were coming, too many had spied the shot and the shooter. “Run girl, I’ll be behind you.”
She took off, bringing up her shadows as she retreated. Gunfire erupted, along with the hiss-crackle of lightning and the distinctive woosh of a fire thrower. Too many of that group had powers, he couldn’t hold them long. She kept moving forward until her fears were realized and she heard his grunt of pain. She stopped short, unable to leave him alone with all he was facing. Her feet carried her back, laying out all her tricks one after another, trying to keep them up against the onslaught. She barely paused in using what she had been discovering she could do, tiring herself out at a fearsome pace, as she knew he was doing next to her. She gasped as he snatched her off her feet, clasping her against his chest and turning his back to a fresh battery of fire, his body shielding her from the deadly offensive. She felt the bullets’ impact even through his solid frame and winced for him.
“I told you to run, girl. I can take this better than you can and I’m not leaving til you get safe, hear me? Go.” Pain and adrenaline roughened his voice and he gave her a last push toward the guarded entrance and reasonable safety. She left the sounds of fighting behind her, running past the police robots and slipping into the dark, quiet corner of the huge gateway. She couldn’t hear the fight from here.
Moments passed and footsteps approached, but when she stepped back into the road expectantly it was only one of the attackers, looking for her, their eyes met and a wolfish grin spread over the thugs face at her fear filled eyes. Two steps toward her and his grin died, to be replaced with the horrible realization that he was within reach of the police robot. He froze as the beam hit him and transferred him to prisoner processing at the local jail. The sight usually amused her, but now only worried her more as she hid within the gate’s recesses again. Some one had gotten past Jackk, he was weakening, somewhere out there, and she was hiding in here. She shouldn’t have left. She pounded her head back against the cement, here she was, too rabbit scared to even go see if he was okay. She shook, her fists opening and closing as she struggled for control.
The footsteps were fast and uneven, and the breathing was heavy and ragged. Multiple beings were approaching, but one of them was a still very much alive Union Jackk. It was her turn to pull him in, hurrying him to the corner and deep within the ethereal protection of her pet shadows, hoping it would hide him, defend him enough. She pressed him backward into the darkness, her slight form in front of his bulk, a thin protection. Several of the ugly inhabitants of Boomtown had followed him, even still, overrunning the police bots and coming fully into the gate’s entrance. She watched them search with trepidation. His body was leaning heavily on her, she doubted he could take much more, and she couldn’t take much to begin with. They were in no shape to fight even the few that faced them. She didn’t dare to even pull life from one of them to stabilize Jackk – too dangerous, they would be found. She readied the pull in case. If they were found, Jackk would need the healing before anything else she could do.
She felt his heartbeat through bone conduction, pulsing hotly into her back. His breath caressed down her bare neck. The remaining searchers gave up and left the area, several of them getting caught by the police robots on their way out. As soon as they had cleared she found herself turned about, Jackk’s hands patting her gently, checking for injury.
“You hit anywhere? They didn’t get you did they?” his voice was focused concern. She looked at his battered face and gasped in surprise, running her fingers along his jawline and holding them to the light, showing the blood, tears welling in her eyes. “You were that worried?” She nodded and hugged him, her body pressed against his, shaking. He held her, comforting, until something changed. They became aware of the other as never before. The hug went still, breathing in tandem, the pause a caress in itself. She pulled away, her eyes wide, wondering. And he drew her back to him, slowly, his calloused fingers tangling in her hair, tipping her face to meet his kiss.
Jackk found himself in a howling void, all that goes bump in the darkness laid around him. But with him, only elation, only light. He relaxed into the light and studied the view around him. Wasteland, nightmare, things that slid from comprehension on esher-reality limbs. He was dispassionate, even adventurous, and happy laughter burbled around him. A glimpse of a terrible cold being (mine. get out) and before the chill could settle it was over, he was holding a grinning girl.
“What the hell was that?”
((It was nice.)) The voice was light, feminine, a touch of indescribable accent, and whispered like silk through water.
“It was interesting, glad you liked it… you talk?”
She drew away, confused. ((I didn’t say anything…?)) Her lips didn’t move. She smiled as realization dawned and kissed him again, lightning in slow motion, ((that’s me thinking, not speaking, lovely brick of mine.))
((What’s this mine stuff?)) No echo came from the large cement walls.
((I’m obviously yours, its only fair. Unless you object.)) she was suddenly shy, trying to withdraw from her jubilation, find mental shields to pull away from him. He stopped her, physically, mentally, basking in the sweet trust and joy that radiated into his mind.
“Yeah, I guess you are.”
Glimmer of Truth
She woke from darkness into darkness, gasping for air that was comfortingly warm against her throat. Her flesh steamed gently, the unnatural chill emanating from her body dissipating as she slowed her breathing. The tentacles sliding against the wall released a few last howls and groans before she banished them back to their home.
She slid from the cold bedding and walked to the shower, passing through the darkness like a ghost. The pipes creaked and water, hot enough to convert to steam straight from the shower head, splashed onto the tiles. She stepped into the comforting steam and let it loosen and warm her abused muscles. She almost missed the click of the doorlatch over the noisy shower, and she smiled when she heard it. A match hissed to life and the warm glow of candle light spilled from the main room.
She turned off the water, toweled off a bit, and ran a comb through her sodden hair while her intruder rummaged through the kitchen corner of the studio apartment. Her hair was loosely braided and she was dressed in a white silk robe before she emerged. He had obviously been rudely awoken as well, his clothing grabbed hurriedly and parts of it donned while flying across the city.
She found herself gathered to a warm, muscular chest, surrounded by strong arms and a heartbeat that soothed the screaming deep within her mind.
((Rough night, little bird?))
Someday, hearing his voice like a whisper in her ear whenever he reached out to ‘talk’ to her might not make her smile. Might not make her feel grounded on his strength as well as her own. Not this morning though, and she nuzzled deeper into his arms, purring in her throat.
((You didn’t have to come.))
And ever more wonderful, she could answer! The demon that stole her voice had yet to steal her mind, and somehow he could see her mind. She had only to think of him, to desire to talk to him and he could hear her. The crushing loneliness of her life had lifted somewhat. That alone would have made him special to her, but he was so much more. He kissed her forehead gently.
((Yeah I did.))
A piercing whistle cut through the apartment from the stove and Jackk released her to fill the mugs.
((Tea?))
“Only thing you had in your cupboards. You live like a junkie, girl.”
((I think there’s mustard in the refrigerator.)) The chagrined tone bled through, mind to mind. They drank in silence for a while, Hush lighting some incense to eventually start her morning rituals.
((They’re getting more frequent again, aren’t they?)) He was beside her, his fingers tracing the words at the top of her spine.
((“kathos” … its Greek for purity)) She rubbed her palms, trying to soothe the icy tingling still vibrating in her body. So close to the surface. ((Yeah, I think they are.)) She sounded defeated, the mental tone barely a whisper. ((I can do so much with it…I’m not sure its me.))
((It’s you))
“It’s you.”
((I’m not sure I’m strong enough…))
((You are, the monks - ))
((What if they just wanted me further away? Its so smart, and so powerful, and so alien, it doesn’t think like us or work like us, what if -))
((I’ve seen it too, you forget. And I’ve seen what you use it to do. We’ve helped a lot of people, and that is you, not it, hero girl.)) His hands ran over her shoulders, down the curve of her ribcage, her hip, warm through the thin silk.
((But-))
“shhh…pet, shhh.” He kissed behind her ear and down her neck.
((You’re trying to distract me)) He never understood how he could hear her smile, but the warmth in her ‘voice’ told him she was cheering up despite herself, even more than the soft purr from her throat.
“Is it working?”
A soft swish of silk slipping over skin to pile on the floor and an embrace that was only Hush was all the answer he got.
He groaned quietly as his body responded, their kiss hungry. And louder, his voice mingling with her mental cry, as something cold stung his back, leaving the impression of slime. The room had gone otherworldly dark, filled with the screaming of Hush’s internal landscape. Her face was pale, her body limp in his arms, the vast space around them twisting tails, pulling her away. She slipped from his fingers, lost into the otherworldly darkness and his skin chilled as its wings spread over him.
(interloper)
He sparked up his fists and strode toward it, stomping smaller terrors, intent on his goal.
(she is mine more than she could ever be yours)
Black fire burned cold around him and still he shouldered his way forward. Obstacles of oily horror did little to deter him, even as space bent and twisted, keeping the thing just out of his reach. He knew, somewhere, that this environment would wilt a lesser man, the air acrid and burning in his lungs, the things hissing when they marred his skin. He also sensed, somehow, a glow somewhere far off. Hush was waking, Hush was safe. But mostly his anger drove him on, mercilessly forward. The thing that tortured her nights, captured her mind and soul, was close enough to touch, close enough to punish straight on. The glow strengthened, coming nearer, not much time left now. He focused and lashed out at the thing, yelling in jubilation as his fist crashed into something solid, bones crushing under the impact. It could be touched, it could be damaged.
The darkness was only nighttime dim, flickering candles warming the air. The quiet of the predawn reality was an abrupt counterpoint to the shrieking alter-real of moments before. Adrenaline still surged through Jackk’s blood, his smile feral. Pain welled up though his link, coloring his perceptions. Hush was coughing on the floor, curled around her side, whimpering. He felt sick as he coaxed her body to stretch out, the bruises on her ribs already forming. He had to verify what he would give anything to disprove. The ugly marks marring her pale skin matched his knuckles, the burns on her skin all too clearly reminiscent of his last boxing match.
((Are you okay? They’ve never hurt me like this before.))
“Fine. Just a rough night.”
