Chapter 2: A Cynical Disillusion

( Madison Park, Seattle )

( May 18, 2009; Monday, 5:15 )

A shrill buzzing shook me from a peaceful slumber, a groping hand lazily outstretched to smack the annoying machine, only to feel a plain, cold tabletop beneath my fingertips.

Right. I had moved it so I would actually wake up for once.

As the realization dawned upon me, I blinked open green eyes blearily, jaw gaping in a wide yawn as I averted my waking attention toward locating the source of the noise. Slowly sliding to the floor, I staggered sleepily across the room in a bee-line for the little oak desk, wrapping my toes around the soft grey carpet with each step. Fuzzy, and warmed in certain places because of the hot water pipes running through the floor, I honestly did love the floor.

Too lazy to turn the alarm of off manually, I simply grabbed the cord, yanking it from the outlet and sitting down on the black computer chair with a sharp huff.

I hated Mondays. Who didn't? Actually, come to think of it, I hated any days other than Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Friday we got out an hour early, Saturday was a free day, and Sunday - was - also a free day.

Shaking the cold away, I stood up once more, tottering wearily toward the door, before grabbing a woolly blanket along the way and wrapping it around myself comfortably. The cold tile sent shivers up my spine, and I shuddered, shoulders tensing as I padded past Tiffany's door. Pausing, I took a few steps back, tenuously sliding a hand from the warm embrace of my fuzzy sheet and knocking lightly on the wooden barricade.

I use the term 'barricade' loosely. She, just as I, hates waking to human voices, oddly enough. You could bang on her door with your head, your could throw a chair at it, you could ring a bell - you could blast screaming deep metal - she'd be perfectly fine. Allegorically speaking. I think. However, if you believe it's a good idea to say, "Good morning," to wake her up, you are very, utterly wrong.

To put it in a language you will understand: she will tear you apart limb by limb and go back to bed.

Again, speaking metaphorically, of course, but you get what I mean.

I heard a weary groan, and before my mind could compute, the door swung open, greeting me with a bed-headed young girl slouched over with a pillow slung behind her neck.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," I grumbled, snickering weakly as she simply shoved me out of the way in pursuit of the happiness known as the kitchen.

I followed shortly, hellbent on cooking some eggs before school began.

Pausing, I veered into the restroom, flicking on the old, dull light and staring at the corner-cracked mirror curiously. Dropping the blanket lazily, I lifted up my shirt and examined the remaining pudge. It had decreased since I started with the weights and parkour, but I still had a ways to go until I got A: actual abs, or B: a flat stomach. I called it my "signature pudge," due to its stubborn nature of never going away and making my stomach uneven. I hated it, really, but there wasn't much I could do about it. On the upside of things, it gave me a reason to say "No" to all of Tiffany's attempts at fitting me into a bikini.

Tiffany, on the other hand, had a super fast metabolism and a really small appetite. She's about four inches taller than myself, standing at five-ten, by English standards. She can actually fit into all the 'cute clothes' advertised on television… tch. They're meant for tall people anyways.

Shoving the thought aside, I nudged the door closed with a foot, before replacing my clothing with more suitable garments and examining my chosen adornments in the mirror briefly. A genuine smile crossed my face.

"Come on! Hurry up, we're gonna be late!" Tiffany's muffled voice resonated through the door, causing me to snort and shake my head.

I guess mornings were okay, if you had the encouragement and patience.

( Burien, Seattle )

( May 18, 2009; Monday, 13:56 )

My books collided with the floor, and I pivoted toward the assailant, frowning.

"Good afternoon to you, too, asshat," I grumbled, turning back to the problem at hand, but not before seeing him flip me the bird. I hated Francis. He actually had a bad reputation with the rest of the school, but acted as though he ran the place.

Idiot. Rolling my eyes, I continued to retrieve the books from the floor, before spotting Tiffany's blue Converse in front of me.

"Something you need?" I inquired, sparing a glance up.

"Nah, just wanted to ask if you heard about the party tonight," she smirked. I frowned.

"I thought we were visiting Cassidy," I interjected, arcing a thick brow curiously. "You know she only stays in one place for so long."

"Do you really think Terrence will give us a chance like this again?" she pressed, helping with my books.

"I think it's just his excuse for getting you in bed with him," I grunted, only to receive a stray magazine to the face. I knitted my brows, glaring daggers at her. "You know it's true. They'll get you drunk, and then you'll wake up on the street or in a jail cell. And then, several weeks later, you'll be positive. The next thing you know: baby!" The last part was more of a sarcastic remark, but I could see the rather pained and confused expression crossing her face.

"If you don't want to go, fine. I was trying to be nice," she murmured, dropping the books into my arms in a neat stack. "Believe me, I'll survive."

"I know you will, it's just -"

"Just let me do this, please? Come on, I'll be fine."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, and then what's my supervisor going to say about it? 'Oh yea, man, I let my sister, the girl I'm supposed to be looking after, go to a party, get drunk and high, and then have sex with a stranger.'"

"You are so dramatic," she muttered, smirking. I returned the expression, seeing as she had lightened a tad. "If I'm not back before eleven, then we can talk, alright? I'll be fine, I swear to -"

"Fine, fine, shoo!" I pushed musingly, unable to see her over my books as she stood up. "But you'd better be home before eleven, or so help me, I'll let the cat get into your art supplies."

"You wouldn't dare," she joked with a hefty roll of her eyes.

I chuckled. "Please, just be safe. Keep your mind in one piece."

I felt her slap a hand onto my back as a means of assuring me, but this only caused the books to fall back onto the floor. "Oops." She paused, but I waved it off, leaning back over to pick them all up again. "Thank you, I appreciate your trust."

"Yea yea, go on already," I snorted musingly, urging her along.

I could tell she was smiling, despite my gaze being preoccupied with cleaning up the page spill. Her foot tapping read: "Joy."

As she walked away, I stood up, opening the locker with a sigh and cramming the books unceremoniously into the small space provided. Rubbing my face with my now-free hands, I slammed the metal door, grabbing my backpack and slinging it lazily over my shoulder. Next stop: Cassidy's place.

"Alex," a familiar, masculine voice called in a low drawl. "Tell me, tell me: Did you really think you could get away with trashing my computer like that?"

I didn't even have to turn around to know who that was. "Are you always so quick to assume, Terrence?" I snarled back, beginning to walk down the hall.

"Ohohoho, chickie's got a loose attitude this afternoon," he seethed back, closing in on my location from behind.

"At least I actually use logic."

"Was that supposed to be offensive?"

"Take it as you will. Now leave me alone."

His arm jutted out in front of me, slamming into the locker and cutting me off. I reared back instinctively, eyes narrowing. "Not until you promise me you'll fix what you did to my computer."

"Why would I want to do anything to your hunk of junk? It's not even challenging. Your firewalls suck." I was about to go around him behind he shoved my shoulder back, cornering me against the red metal.

"Then how did it crash, huh? 'Soundwave'? That sounds like an alias you'd take on, you stupid webcrawler!"

I blinked in surprise, eyes widening. "You, too?"

"Don't sound so innocent!" he hissed, blue eyes looking like they could burst into flames any second.

"Listen to me!" I clipped, giving him a hearty push and growling when he didn't even budge. "Just stop and think for a second: Would I really be stupid enough to go digging into your crap again just to appease a nonexistent hunger for revenge? No."

"Then why did you do it?" Ho boy, he was mad.

"Terrence, please listen to me." My voice had dropped into an angry whisper, eyes narrowed and pupils constricted. "I was attacked, too. You wonder why I didn't have my science power-point?"

Terren's face warped into frustration and confusion. He obviously didn't know how to reply, freckled face wrinkling in distaste. "I -"

The bell rang, and I took a deep breath in, rolling my eyes.

"Saved by the bell," he excused, rubbing a hand through his red hair and walking off down the hall to heaven-knows-where.

I sent a quick thanks heavenward, shivering and tearing down the hall in the opposite direction. I had to head down to the city bus before they left without me. That would be a doozy trying to walk all the way there.

( En Route: Cassidy's Place, Smith Cove Park )

( May 18, 2009; Monday, 14:23 )

The bus jostled along the uneven pavement that led away from the high school, causing me to grip the bar beside me even tighter. A woman dropped her newspapers, and I reached down to grab them, about to hand them to her before I read the headlines.

"Do you know of that man?" the elderly lady inquired curiously, regarding my focus carefully.

"No. Who is he?" I questioned back, leaning over and passing it back to her, eyes averted to her blue gaze.

"He's been blamed for the worldwide blackout of information. Any computer with that data or having accessed the data was destroyed yesterday. Some people are linking him to the terrorist attack in Los Angeles," she explained, looking over the article with great scrutiny. "Yesterday he just disappeared. He was in the street one moment, and the next, there was nothing left but a pile of clothing. Fascinating, no? Fancy voodoo crap," she muttered with a classic laugh, offering me the paper again.

I took it and looked it over, squinting as I grazed over the man's face. "He looks so familiar, but I can't put a name on it."

"Darling, do you know how many people have said that? He has that Hollywood stench about him," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

An automated voice clicked overhead; "Next stop…" I ignored it, continuing with my questionnaires.

"Like an actor? Like he staged something?" I looked up, only to see she was gone. My eyes scanned the crowd, and I located her at the back of the bus. The blood pounded in my ears. My computer had died the day before, so maybe -

"Hey, wait!" I called after her, cut off by a man. A very, very muscular man. I staggered back into my earlier spot, still clutching the newspaper and watching as my last source of information was lost in a sea of faces.

The door opened and the swarm exited, leaving just me, a young woman, and the bus driver.

Deciding to find a seat, I sat down in the closest one, silently mulling over what had just happened. I guess time flies when you're thinking.

"Next stop: West Marina Place and West Garfield Street," the feminine voice chirped, making me scowl. I hated that automated voice, especially since I had to hear it pretty much every day of my life.

Shoving the newspaper into my backpack, I meandered toward the back of the bus, stepping off onto the freezing street. The wind whipped my face as soon as I exited the vehicle, playing with my hair and loose earbuds as I began the walk down to the Smith Cove Park.

I bobbed my head to the beat of "Voodoo People," remixed by Pendulum, mulling over the events of yesterday with a monotone expression on my face. They had known my name, my number, and even what I had done in the past. I had used a false ID to register my computer and wifi information, so even if the government had marked me down, how did they track everything else?

They had taken a really long time to contact me.

But no, that didn't make any sense. If a juvenile wanted to attack files, they'd have done something about it as soon as possible, and it wouldn't have taken them that long -

I stopped, scratching the side of my head and growling in frustration. I was going around in circles.

I need to be more careful. An idiotic move like that repeated could have my life sent into a mad spiral.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around me, quickly spotting Cassidy's "workshop" a few hundred feet off. It wasn't hard, really, since there were people swarming around the tent like roaches under a rock. Taking my earbuds out, I neatly placed them into my backpack, taking off across the rocky, grass-dotted shoreline, heart racing.

The pounding of my feet hitting the uneven earth sent chills up my spine, a shiver of adrenaline rippling through my body as I plowed toward the congregation, eyes narrowed. Upon reaching the crowd, I slowed, weaving my way through the moving mass and cluster of tables, trying to reach the tent.

Stopping and hopping up into the air to see over the heads, I spotted Cassidy showcasing some items to a customer.

"Excuse me - sorry." I shouldered into the group, never stopping until I was close enough to Cass to place my hand on her shoulder.

"CassCass!" I called teasingly, watching in amusement as she pivoted with furrowed brows and a frown plastered on her face. "You naughty girl."

"Jaxy!" she greeted back, a large grin crossing her features when I scowled. "Love ya, too."

The customer took this as a sign to leave, nodding modestly and continuing to browse elsewhere.

Smirking, I approached her, removing my hands from my pockets and inviting myself to the ledge she was sitting on. "So, how's life been treating ya?"

"Oh, just like any othe'," she muttered. "Politics using me as an example of 'what the gove'ment is doing w'ong' o' something." She used quotations as she spoke, rolling her eyes with a chuckle.

Ever since I met her, I'd been curious about the way she spoke; it was rather cute - in a sisterly way. And it definitely fit her personality. She was a young teenager of Caucasian descent, with brilliant blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Jet-black hair - I wasn't sure if that was natural for her or not - and a nice physique; one that I envied, at that. She spoke just like myself, except she never pronounced any of the r's. Sometimes the vowels would blend with that, thus a small accent of unknown origin. Dunno where she picked it up from, but I liked it.

"How about you'self?" she chimed in curiously.

I shrugged. "Nobody's given me crap about the little accident up until just recently."

"They gonna sue ya?"

"Nah. Worse," I exaggerated, watching as her brows rose. "They hung up on me."

She snorted, waving a hand dismissively. "'ude basta'ds. You get any new info'mation?"

"Classified," I teased.

"Oh come on - fo' me?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p' with a smug grin.

"Please?" she begged, clasping her hands in front of her and falling to her knees. "I'll show ya something classified if ya tell me!"

I turned away from the pile of clothes I was examining, eyeing her suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"Follow me!"

"I -" Cassidy cut me off, grabbing my wrist and making an indecisive swivel to pull me in the opposite direction sharply, nearly pulling both of us down when she made a sharp turn the other way. I was struggling to keep up, utterly surprised by how much energy the spunky teen had and how fast she had snatched my arm.

The bridge loomed overhead, casting an eerie shadow across the two of us as we approached the supporting beams. Cassidy released her grip, the gravel beneath her feet crunching much less than before as she began to slow down.

"The'e's something I want ya to have."

With a wave of beckoning, she sidled up to the massive pillar of wood, staring pointedly at a blue tarp.

"It's not gonna bite ya," she mocked, squatting down and running a hand over it.

I eyed the cover curiously, stepping forward as she whipped it off (more or less unceremoniously) to reveal a giant hunk of metal as large as I, if not larger.

It was obviously made of some kind of metal; black and smooth, albeit the various hieroglyphs and scars lining its hull. It was rather beautiful, but at the same time scary as hell. I hadn't a clue where it had come from.

"What is that?" I inquired, dropping down onto my knees to get a better look. I ignored the sting of the gravel digging into my knees, knitting my brows and leaning in.

"Classified!" she exclaimed happily.

It appeared to be the thick hull of something; definitely not a ship, plane, or anything that I had ever seen before - wrong type of metal. Actually, maybe - no. I didn't know, nor could I guess.

Imprisoned in the tangle of what appeared to be the shell, many wires, cables, and various other materials surrounded what appeared to be a glistening shard of a glass-like mineral. Dirt and rubble coated its otherwise-smooth surface, hieroglyphs staining the area around the large shard stabbed through the heart of the item. I scrutinized said 'shard' curiously, prodding it with a finger and squinting to get a better look at its surface. It too was covered in foreign symbols, much to my own fascination.

"Where'd it come from?"

"Well, the tag said 'Mission City,' but I dunno," she joked. "Some guy b'ought it in one day and 'an off without a wo'd. He was p'etty cool-looking, though. F'iggin assassin o' something, with the hood and all." She sounded amazed and flabbergasted, but I honestly couldn't make the direct connection to how she felt because I couldn't see her face in all my up-close scrutiny of the mystery object. "The only p'oblem is - I'm moving ov'a to Santa Fe in a few days, and this thing has gotta stay. I know you have a thing fo' classified stuff."

"Hold up. You're saying this is from the terrorist attack on LA?" I gaped, shoulders slumping.

"Yea, man. But se'iously? 'Te'o'ist attack'?" the young girl scoffed, shaking her head. "Don't believe that bullshit. Does that look like anything you've ev'a seen befo'e?"

The side that looked like a hull was flat down on the gravel, intricate wires and other systems interconnected to what appeared to be half of a glassy sphere filled with a blue liquid and the shard.

"Well, no, but what about the military?" I suggested, rubbing a hand on the back of my neck.

Cassidy put her hand up in mock surrender, placing them back in her pockets with head inclined and a smirk smeared across her face. "Okay, you know what? Call it whatev'a you want. Do you want it, or not?"

"Hell, of course," I admitted, taking a step toward the tattered piece of - uh, whatever it was.

"Have at it, my f'iend. I'm headed to New Mexico." She held up two fingers in a peace sign, saluting me and pivoting on her heels. "I'll talk to ya lat'a."

"What do I owe you?" I called, receiving no answer. The girl hummed loudly, blocking my voice out.

She always had been stubborn. Rolling my eyes and inhaling sharply, I squatted down, now completely focused on my surprise gift.

"I really am a packrat," I admitted to no-one, rubbing my face with a hand as I examined the thing. Reaching out, I poked the hull, repeating the action when I discovered it was safe.

Humans are such curious creatures of nature. Why we poke things the minute we find them, I will never know.

"He commands it…"

I paused, looking up. "Hello?"

"He commands it…" the voice urged.

Staring down the centerpiece of the metal object, I leaned in, turning an ear to it curiously.

"His Lord commands the fallen to rise and devour the light." The voice was a guttural whisper, a resonation resembling the noise a washer would make if someone threw a boulder within its drum. Serving as a background were synthetic voices of multiple pitches, as though a chorus of others were speaking in synchronization.

I closed my eyes, squeezing the lids as I drew closer.

"The fallen shall rise and devour the light," it clipped impatiently. "The fallen shall rise and devour the light."

Like a broken record, it repeated the same sentence, causing me to pull away and simply stare.

Upon sitting upright, the voice got quieter, confirming my suspicions.

"Cassidy, you pranking bastard," I growled, reaching into the middle of the sphere and gripping the shard. I ripped it out, satisfied when the blue light faded from the liquid and the voice ceased entirely.

She actually managed to get me excited - ugh.

Rolling back onto my rump, I rubbed my face with my free hand, opening the other one to inspect the sharp object. Pinching it carefully between two fingers, I raised it closer to eye-level, transfixed on its beauty. It honestly was pretty cool-looking, even if it was a joke of some sort.

A burning sensation ripped up through my hand and wrist, causing the automatic muscle reflex of flinging the object away as fast as possible. "Ow!"

Tingling sensations shuddered through my body, giving off the side effects one might experience if they'd had too much caffeine. I struggled to register what had just happened, blinking with dilated pupils still fixed on the shard that sat a few feet away.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head, raising a hand and massaging my left temple in frustration. I'd never been tazed before, but I subtly wondered if this was what it was like. My muscles burned, but only for a few heartbeats, instantly causing me to cringe up. I instinctively lied down, cradling my hand and biting my lip with eyes closed in thought.

I was trying to regain my clarity of thought, to be honest, as my head was spinning and my heart seemed to be palpitating.

Suddenly, as though a curse had been lifted, all the aching in my muscles and bones was relieved, albeit my hand. I felt very groggy, eyes wanting to stay closed as I willed myself to sit up.

Man, that thing sure packs a punch, I thought dryly, blinking and reawakening reality. Nice job, CassCass.

Fixing my gaze on the strange object, I held my hand close to my chest, letting out a murmur of pain when I tried to close my fingers. One thing was for sure: That thing couldn't be touched with bare skin.

What was it? How was it made?

Curiosity killed the cat.

I slowly and carefully rose to my feet, good hand used as support as I dared to straighten my back.

"Hoooooahh," I breathed out hoarsely, exhaling sharply when another zip of pain racked my back, forcing me to sit down once more.

It was gonna be a long crawl to the bus.*

( Madison Park, Seattle )

( May 18, 2009; Monday, 14:59 )

"Alex?" a voice drawled in amusement. "Alex."

A finger prodded me in the stomach, immediately waking me up and causing my back to arc. My eyes flew open, breath coming out in a surprised sputter. "Don't do that," I groaned, rolling over and shoving my face into the corner of the couch.

"I'm home," she singsonged cheerily, squatting down in front of the couch. "First - it's six in the morning. I didn't want to wake you up when I got home. Second - you have to tell me everything."

"About what?" I retorted, voice muffled by the cushions.

"Haven't you paid any attention to the news? The radio is practically screaming it."

I rolled over again, face marked with pain and a small whimper escaping me. "No," I clipped in irritation, opening my eyes and coming face-to-face with her disheveled hair and look of excitement.

"Smith Cove Park? Dude, the place is crawling with police and guys with big guns. What'd you do?"

My bloodshot eyes widened, fixing on her face. "What do you mean?"

"Like SWAT or something, I dunno. Apparently the place got torn to shreds earlier this morning. And don't worry; before you say anything, Cassidy is fine. She and her brother had the tent taken down about an hour before shit got real."

"Torn apart by what?"

"Nobody knows!" she chirped. "Something exciting for once!"

"'Exciting'? What if someone was hurt?" I protested, straining to sit up. My attempts were futile, body going into Jello Mode and slumping back down with a low whine escaping me.

"I think you're the only one hurt. What'd you do?"

"Nothing. I swear."

"You wanna go to the walk-in clinic or something?"

"No," I growled. "I just - I just fell asleep on the couch wrong."

"Wow, you woke up on the wrong side of it, obviously," she muttered, backing up and rising to her feet.

"Sorry, I'm just not in the mood to talk."

"PMS?" she teased gently, snorting.

"I don't know."

"Well, uh, anyhow. School is cancelled, in other news. The officers apparently don't want anyone in the surrounding area."

I furrowed my brows. "That doesn't make any sense. Burien isn't close enough to be considered - ugh, whatever. I just wanna sleep."

"Hope you feel better," she commented honestly, standing up and rounding the couch. "I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Thank you," I replied groggily, closing my eyes and beginning to fall asleep once more.

Author's Notes:

Did you not understand a word Cassidy said? I seriously apologize, I think I botched it up a bit too much. I actually don't know if that's an accent, lisp, or vernacular - it's like a form of speech that she picked up halfway through her current life. I dunno. If that was interpreted offensively, please know it was not meant as such; I like little character quirks and peculiarities. If you want the translations, check my profile page under "My Stories / Classified Terminal / In Progress" to find a Stash file labeled "Translations." Upon clicking that, you will find a group of files depicting translations of different things for each chapter (whenever I feel the need to translate). Hopefully that will come in handy in the future. I am sorry if it is inconvenient, but I needed to keep the lisp present in-text.

If things were too rushed, I also apologize for that. I had begun to write this chapter a couple months ago, but discarded it and rewrote it all today. I was short on time, so if anything seems out of the ordinary, please tell me and I'll change that as soon as I can get back on the laptop (my computer had a nervous breakdown, and the iPad has gone bonkers and started deleting my files).

Also, there is a file on my profile page (it will be indicated noticeably) that contains some content regarding the relationship between Jolt and Alex (next to "Translations" in "Other"). The whole thing wouldn't fit on here, so if you decide to check it out, it'll more-or-less thoroughly explain why I'm not doing romance. Strictly Guardian-Charge.

One more note: I edited the last chapter a bit, but if you have read the January 2014 redux or more recent versions, you'll be good to go. The only changes made were grammatical fixes, a small issue I detected that needed to be fixed (lest I have it appear illogical), and other minor things. I won't edit it any more, now that I have run through with typo checks and other crap, but I will always run through a posted chapter a second time to correct things - for future reference.

And more importantly, thank you to all who've reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this story! It is very encouraging to receive such positive feedback, and keeps me on my toes in terms of updating as frequently as possible.

Until next time,

- TexTau

Define:

*I did not feel the need to elaborate on this. I attempted to a few times, but finally dropped it due to slight lack of relevance. It was more of a rambling mess than anything. I apologize if it's insufficient.

Edits:

Final edit registered on: