Life is Gone: Eyes of the Storm

Chapter Thirteen: The Dealer

A man was stalking the edges of the junkyard.

Max wasn't sure who it was, but she had seen him walk past a gap in the trees behind Chloe's impromptu shooting range three times now. She narrowed her eyes. Something was up.

Ma stepped back from Chloe, letting her take shots on her own as Max watched the gap in the trees, looking out for the man.

Chloe shot the gun, missing for the first time now that she didn't have Max's guidance. Not a moment later, Max saw the man cross the gap a fourth time. She was not liking this. Max reached down to her side, opened her bag, and rested her hand on top of it.

"So, you going to rewind or what?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah, just a second." Max responded, lifting her arm in preparation, only to instead bring it to her nose.

Bringing her hand back down for her nose, she looked down to see blood. Her nose was bleeding.

Max tried very carefully not to panic. It had been years now since she had last suffered physical consequences from her powers beyond fatigue, and her recent visions – if they were even caused by her powers. Why was it suddenly starting again now?

Not only had it started again, Max noted faintly as she started to lose her balance, it was getting worse. She was faintly aware of Chloe dashing over to catch her as she fell, then she wasn't aware of anything at all.

Max's head hurt.

She couldn't tell where she was or what was happening.

Or who she was.

She didn't feel like herself, that was for sure.

Max looked around. She was in an all too familiar room, unnaturally clean and bright, with white walls that reflected light in such a way that looking at them directly almost blinded her. There was the heavy odour of sanitizer in the air, so much so it nearly made it hard to breath.

She went to move around, get a bearing of her location, only to find her legs were restrained. Looking down, she saw she was strapped to some kind of trolley. Horrified, Max realised where she was.

The Facility.

She didn't recognise the room itself, but it had all the tell-tale signs of The Facility. The unnaturally clean surfaces. The lingering smell of whatever they used to clean their 'subjects'. It was all coming back, and she wasn't liking a second of it.

"Ah, subject A-2." Said a man's voice, coming from just outside of Max's field of view. "I hear you've been giving some of my colleagues' trouble."

Who was A-2? Max was pretty sure she'd never met anyone going by A-2.

"Now, while I'd love it if we could just have a little chat about this and send you on your way, we both know that if I did that you'd just be back here for another talk tomorrow." The voice paused, as though considering its options. "I've been told a more… permanent… solution has been called for. Would you happen to know what that is, A-2?"

Max gritted her teeth. There was no way she was letting this mysterious interrogator get any satisfaction out of a response.

"Fuck you!"

The words came out of Max's mouth, but it was not her voice. She hadn't even wanted to talk, but apparently this body had different ideas. The voice was raspy, like she had been without water for several days. Even so, it still managed to have a slightly melodious ring to it.

"There's that fighting spirit, A-2. What a shame for it to only some out at the end." Unexpectedly, Max felt the restraints holding her down fall loose around her. "Come now A-2, face the end with some dignity."

Utterly not in control of her own movements, Max stood up and turned around to face her tormentor. He was a tall man, but not particularly wide. He had an entirely average face, bar a faint but noticeable scar leading from his left cheekbone, across his lips, down to his right jaw.

Max never learnt the names of the people who worked at The Facility, but this was a face she recognised, and knew to fear. He was responsible for punishing The Facility's victims, and rumours had it that he was also an executioner, responsible for the death of any 'subject' that got out of line.

"Big mistake, monster." The raspy voice came from Max's throat once more without permission. Max could hear a sort of sick joy in it too. She may have feared the executioner, but the voice invading her body sent shivers down her spine.

The executioner raised his dagger – a roughly cut chunk of black stone, from what she could see, pointing it straight at Max's chest. Before he could do anything more however, Max raised her hand, ready to pause time and get out of the dangerous situation.

That wasn't what happened.

Max raised her hand, and focused her power into it, feeling it build up in her finger tips, twisting and pulling its way through her veins.

However, instead of pulling time to a standstill, Max felt herself growing stronger, reinvigorated by her powers somehow.

Worried by the lack of time travel, Max looked back up to the executioner, terrified of how close that dagger would be.

Only to find instead of lunging towards her with a dagger, he was convulsing on the ground, a ferocious beam of black light streaming from his chest into her outstretched hand.

Max could feel her tired muscles grow stronger as the beam sapped the strength out of the executioner's body. His convulsions were starting to get less and less erratic as they slowed down until eventually –

They stopped.

Frank Bowers was not a religious man. He doubted anybody in his line of business was. Drug dealers tended to eschew things like morality in favour of profit, and that tended not to sit well with most gods.

It was said profit that lead Frank to American Rust on a crisp Tuesday morning, time he would have much rather spent getting breakfast at the Two Whales. He had, in fact, been about to do just that when he had seen Chloe's beaten up truck leave the same place. So rather then pulling up and having a nice breakfast, Frank found himself turning around in the car park and following Chloe Price.

As Chloe went into the Junkyard, Frank pulled up behind it and decided what he was going to do. He actually kind of liked Chloe, and didn't want to hurt her, but on the other hand she owed him $3000. That wasn't the kind of money he could just give away like it was nothing – he had a business to run after all. He ended up pocketing a switchblade, figuring he could wave it around and scare her into getting him his money.

Giving Pompidou a pat on the head as he left his R.V, Frank started to make his way over to the Junkyard. He could hear the pops of a gun in the distance. He smirked as he realised Chloe must have set herself up a shooting range. That kid really did remind him of himself sometimes.

Frank reached the edge of the Junkyard and could see Chloe's truck though the piles of trash. The sight of her beat-up truck reminded Frank that they might not be alone, and it wouldn't pay to have someone interrupt them mid-talk. With that in mind, he prowled around the edge of American Rust, circling it a couple times before walking down to make sure no one was working at the switching station on the railway tracks nearby. Satisfied, Frank turned back around and headed back up to the Junkyard.

Frank rounded the corner and saw Chloe sitting next to another girl on the hood of a wrecked truck. Frank hesitated for a moment, considering that he had just checked that they would be alone, but decided that if they were friends with Chloe, they might be able to talk some sense into her and convince her to give him his money.

Frank smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Price!" Frank called out.

Frank saw her turn her head and curse under her breath.

"Nice little set up you got going on out here." Frank gestured to the bottles that the girls must have been shooting. "Kind of reminds me of when I was a kid."

"Dude, we're nothing alike." Chloe responded, although Frank could see on her face that she didn't believe it herself.

"Really? We both need money." Frank said, forcing himself to be as intimidating as possible. "In fact, you need it so bad you owe me a shitload."

"You'll get your money." Chloe replied quickly. "Now, can we do this another time. I'm kind of busy right now."

Frank was tired of this shit. He had been trying to get his money nicely for months now and it wasn't working. It was time for a new approach.

"No no no Chloe, we're going to do this now. I'm done with you ignoring this."

Frank reached his hand down to his pocket, planning on pulling out the knife, only to be stopped by a loud bang. Chloe was no longer alone, standing next to her was an average-height brown haired girl in somewhat plain clothes. That was the only ordinary thing about her. She looked deathly seriously, with her eyes as hard as stone, holding a gun with both unshaking hands, the barrel still smoking.

"Hand away from the knife, or the next one won't miss." The words would have been almost comical coming from her quiet, soft-spoken voice had it not been for the pistol pointed straight at his chest.

Frank barely had time to question how she knew he had a knife as he raised his hands and took a step back from the girls. Frank hadn't been the brightest kid at Blackwell, but he could tell when a situation had gone south in a big way. Normally he wouldn't feel threatened by a kid with a pistol, they rarely had the nerve or skill to do serious damage, but this one was different. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, but Frank believed her threat.

That being said, Frank also wasn't one to let an opportunity go to waste. Maybe he could still get his money.

"Look, I just want what she owes me." He said, trying his best not to convey either his fear or his anger.

"Frank then, I assume?" The girl asked, although it wasn't really a question. "You'll get your money. Now leave."

There was something in her voice, Frank decided. It was powerful. Terrifying.

And it was familiar.

And so, as he slowly backed away from the girls, back towards his RV, he found himself wondering where he'd heard it. He was positive he'd never met the girl before. Someone like that, there was no way he'd forget. Maybe it was a relative of someone he knew? That must have been it he decided.

It wasn't until he was safely back in his RV, driving down the road that he placed it.

"Rachel."

Chloe watched, amazed, as Frank slowly backed away from them. She'd never seen him back off so quickly before. She turned back to Max, who had seemingly just appeared beside her part way through the exchange.

"Holy shit Max, that was amazeballs!"

Max didn't respond, instead continuing to watch Frank back off until she was confident he wouldn't change his mind and come back.

"Hey Max, you there?" Chloe asked, tired of waiting for her friend to respond. She was just about to start waving he hand in front of Max's face when she responded.

"I'm fine." She said, letting out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. "Just need to catch my breath."

It wasn't the use of her powers that had taken so much out of her. She had pushed those a little, but no where near as much as she could. The real reason Max needed to catch her breath was to get a hold on the memories that had flooded to the surface.

Max hadn't needed to use her powers in a potentially dangerous situation in months, not since she'd returned to Arcadia Bay. The closest she'd come to it was when she used them to manipulate the Blackwell Academy roll to get into both the school and the dorms, and that had been nothing like this.

Max closed her eyes, taking a moment to make sure she was in control, only to immediately regret it. As soon as she closed her eyes she saw flashes of the concrete hallway, shrouded in darkness. Red lights streamed through the hallway, casting an eerie glow on the twisted face that stared into her soul.

Max snapped her eyes back open, refusing to get sucked into another nightmare. Instead, she leaned on Chloe, using her friend to ground herself to reality. Chloe wrapped her arm around Max so instinctively that Max wasn't sure if she realised she was doing it.

"So, Badass, what should we do next?" Chloe asked. "Up for your turn at the bottles?"

"You know, I think I've had my turn. How about we just go for a walk or something?"

"A walk sounds good."

Chloe dropped her arm from around Max and the two of them walked out of the junkyard, pointedly not going out the same way as Frank had, instead walking alongside the train tracks.

Chloe could only contain herself so much longer. "Holy shit Max! That was so cool!"

Max turned to face her, giving her a face to prompt her to explain.

"The way you made Frank back down, you were so badass!" Max could hear the excitement and wonder in Chloe's voice, and was suddenly impressed with how long Chloe had kept it inside. Her friend wasn't exactly renown for her restraint. "Not to mention how you basically just saved my life again!"

"It wasn't that impressive." Max replied, not sure how to handle being the centre of attention. "I just told him to back off."

"Not true! You were all BANG, The next one wont miss. Hell, you knew he was going to pull a knife before he did!" Chloe smiled and shook her head. "You know, I don't mind that you didn't contact me in Seattle. With how exciting your life must have been, its no wonder you didn't."

"I wanted to Chloe. I really did, but I couldn't."

"Why?" Chloe asked. Unlike the previous times it had come up, Chloe wasn't angry, just curious. "With what you've shown me, with what you can do, what could possibly have stopped you?"

Max wanted to tell her. She wanted to lie down and tell Chloe everything, just let it out. Max started to say something, anything about what had happened over those past five years. But she couldn't. It just caught in her throat and refused to come out.

"I… I…" Max choked on her words. "I can't Chloe, I'm sorry. Not yet."

Chloe thought about it for a moment, weighing up her possible responses, eventually conceding. "That's okay Max. Please, just tell me when you can."

"I will Chloe, I promise."