Chapter 21 : Past

Lincoln stood at the edge of the facility, his gaze fixed on the retreating vehicles disappearing into the distance through a hidden route. His mind raced, searching for a way to rally his army, to let them know where to find him and the facility. Hopefully, there would be weapons that were still untouched by his attacks. He started to regret destroying them, but then again he did so because a peaceful resolution wasn't what he first intended to do. He rummaged through the emergency boxes nearby, hoping to find something that could act as a signal.

Finally, his hand closed around a flare gun, and a spark of hope ignited within him.

His body was weakened to the brink, Lincoln knew he could no longer rely on his energy manipulation unless it was an absolute emergency. He mustered the last of his strength and fired the flare gun into the sky, a desperate plea for his army to converge on the mountain where the facility was located.

A flicker of relief washed over him as he heard the distant rumbling of armored vehicles approaching.

Once the vehicles of his comrades arrived, bringing most of the ground team to the scene, the tense atmosphere grew palpable. Among them were James and Thomas, two familiar faces from Lincoln's squad. The moment Thomas caught sight of Lincoln, his anger ignited like a fuse, fueling his rage. He lunged towards Lincoln, ready to unleash his fury, but James and several other soldiers swiftly intervened, holding Thomas back.

Through gritted teeth, Thomas shouted, his voice laced with frustration and pain, "Where were you, Lincoln? While we were out there fighting, where were you? You were supposed to be with the flight team! Where were you?!"

Lincoln stood there, a heavy silence hanging in the air. He knew that no explanation would suffice, that his actions had veered far from the original plan. He couldn't tell them about his ability so he remained silent, accepting the anger and disappointment directed at him, unable to provide any justification.

Commander Damian approached, his stern gaze fixed on Lincoln. With a forceful push, he knocked Lincoln off balance, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Damian's voice rang out, filled with both frustration and confusion, "You were given a clear mission, soldier. Why did you stray? We were relying on you."

None of them suspected that Lincoln's deviation from the plan had been the very reason for the enemy's surrender. This led Lincoln to feel an unexplainable sense of loneliness. In the midst of the heated confrontation, Thomas's words cut through the air like a knife, striking Lincoln with shock.

"If you had been there... maybe... maybe Destry would've..." Thomas's voice quivered, his pain and grief intertwining with his anger.

Lincoln's eyes widened in disbelief and horror at the mention of Destry's name. The weight of those words pierced his heart, intensifying the guilt that already burdened him. His voice trembled as he pleaded, "Destry? What... what happened to Destry?"

Thomas's anger only escalated as he responded, his voice filled with anguish, "Destry... He fought so fiercely, like he was invincible. But when the enemy was retreating... it confused us all. And... They killed so many while they escaped... Those cowards... Oh god Destry... If you were there, Lincoln, then maybe.... Maybe he wouldn't have died!" He yelled his heart out and sanked down as the others let go of him.

"No..." Lincoln's voice trembled with disbelief and denial. "This must be some kind of sick joke, right? Destry, where are you? You're pulling my leg, aren't you? You've always been a funny guy!" His words wavered, the desperate hope of it all being a prank evident in his tone. He chuckled nervously, unable to fully process the weight of the situation.

However, Thomas didn't take it lightly. Consumed by grief and anger, he couldn't bear Lincoln's apparent dismissal of the gravity of the situation. In a fit of rage, he lashed out, delivering a swift kick to Lincoln's head, knocking him onto the ground. "You think this is a joke?!" Thomas seethed, his voice laced with fury. "War is a fucking joke to you? Just because you're new to it? You think this is some kind of sick game?"

Lincoln, still reeling from the shock of the news, managed to muster a weak response. "He's... he's a funny guy..." his voice trailed off, his words laden with a mixture of confusion and denial.

Thomas, his anger boiling over, lunged at Lincoln once again, but Commander Damian swiftly intervened, halting Thomas in his tracks. "Enough!" Damian's voice commanded authority. "Leave." Damian ordered Lincoln. "We will address this later."

Feeling drained, both physically and emotionally, Lincoln complied, struggling to stay on his feet as he weakly rose from the ground. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Damian's gaze softened slightly as he replied, "He's back at the camp." The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air, the pain of loss and the fractures within the unit palpable.

"You... you're a coward too!" Thomas's voice lashed out once more, his accusations piercing the tense atmosphere. "You ran away, didn't you? And now you're running away again!"

With each step, Lincoln mustered what little energy remained within him, walking away from the facility. He treaded upon the sand, his weakened form determined to keep moving forward, the weight of guilt and sorrow pressing upon his weary shoulders.

The journey through the unforgiving terrain had drained Lincoln, leaving him standing in a desolate canyon as nightfall cast its shadow upon the rugged landscape. The moon hung high in the star-studded sky, its pale glow painting the rocks with an ethereal light. The air carried a chilly breeze, causing Lincoln's breath to form misty tendrils as he stood alone amidst the silent expanse.

In this eerie solitude, Lincoln felt lost, not only in the vastness of the canyon but also within himself.

Collapsing to his knees, Lincoln's weary gaze fixed upon the barren ground beneath him. Tears ran down his cheek as the weight of guilt and despair bore down upon his soul, suffocating him. Lincoln's voice quivered with self-loathing as he spoke to himself in a broken whisper. "You worthless... you let him down. You let everyone down. You couldn't protect him, could you?"

As the torment of his thoughts consumed him, the surge of anguish transformed into a surge of rage. His voice grew louder, dripping with frustration and desperation. "You think you're strong? You're nothing but weak! You could've done more! You could've planned better! Destry believed in you, and you failed him! You're just a shitty failure!"

Within the anguish, a surge of newfound strength coursed through Lincoln's veins. His vision blurred with a fiery red haze, his emotions transforming into an overwhelming surge of raw power.

His scream echoed through the desolate canyon, he unleashed his fury upon the ground. His fist collided with the earth, the impact resonating with his inner turmoil. "Why Destry?!" he roared, his voice filled with raw agony and disbelief.

The ground trembled beneath his blow, unable to withstand the unleashed energy within him. The earth beneath him fractured, giving way to a deep crater that engulfed him in its depths. A torrent of crimson energy burst forth, enveloping the canyon in its destructive embrace. With each thunderous yell that escaped Lincoln's lips, rocks shattered, and the surroundings crumbled, as if mirroring the chaos within his tormented mind.

Memories of Destry flooded his senses, intermingling with the seething energy that surrounded him. His voice echoed in the vast expanse, a mixture of agony and anger, a lamentation for a lost comrade and a cry of anguish for the world that had pushed them to this point.

As the echoes of his screams dissipated, Lincoln's cries turned into deep, mournful sobs. His energy dissipated, leaving him drained and hollow. The weight of the world crashed upon him, and his once vibrant spirit seemed to fade into a dull ache.

A hand gently rested on Lincoln's trembling shoulder. He turned to find Dexter standing beside him, his appearance worn and battle-scarred, but his eyes held a glimmer of compassion. Words didn't need to be exchanged; in that moment, the unspoken understanding between them spoke volumes.

Dexter's touch provided a sense of comfort, grounding Lincoln in the midst of his spiraling emotions. The tears streamed down his face as he struggled to find words to express the overwhelming guilt and sorrow that consumed him.

"I know what you did, Lin," Dexter voice broke through the silence, his tone soft but firm. Lincoln's tear-filled eyes met his friend's gaze, a mixture of disbelief and longing.

"The last thing he said was that he'll be counting on me. And yet I abandoned him," Lincoln's voice cracked with anguish, his self-blame evident in his every word.

Dexter's grip tightened slightly, a subtle gesture to offer support. "You abandoned no one, Lin," he said with unwavering conviction. "You saved us all."

As Lincoln's tears flowed freely, his voice quivered with self-blame. "This was all my fault... Everything... I didn't want you all to be involved... You all are in this because of me," he confessed, his voice laden with remorse.

Dexter's gaze held unwavering understanding as he gently squeezed Lincoln's shoulder. "No, we're in this because of what happened to you," he corrected, his voice filled with empathy.

Lincoln's voice trembled as he spoke of the painful truth that weighed heavily on his heart. "But Dex... Destry is gone," he murmured, his words hanging in the air, heavy with grief.

Dexter's eyes reflected a profound sadness as he absorbed Lincoln's words. "I know," he replied softly, his voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and acceptance. In that moment, Lincoln couldn't help but marvel at Dexter's resilience. After all, he's been in the army than four years, he must've experienced the loss of so many comrades during his years of service. Would Lincoln end up like that too? Almost numb to everything?

"He didn't deserve this," Lincoln's voice cracked with raw emotion, his words laced with a blend of anger and anguish.

Dexter's grip tightened, his touch offering solidarity. "No one ever deserved it," he affirmed, his voice steady and filled with conviction. "None of us deserve the horrors of war. But together, we'll honor the memories of those we've lost."

Lincoln's breath caught in his throat as he met Destry's unwavering gaze, a renewed determination kindling within him. In that moment, they found solace in each other's presence, their shared burden lightened by the knowledge that they were not alone.

Surrounded by the rugged terrain of the canyon, Lincoln and Dexter found solace and strength in their connection. They stood together, bound by their shared experiences and a shared resolve to forge a path towards a brighter future, fueled by the memories of those who had fallen.

As Lincoln regained a semblance of composure, Dexter's words pierced through the heaviness of the moment. "Your hair turned blue, you know that?" Dexter observed. Lincoln nodded, his eyes still filled with traces of sorrow. "It happened once before."

Dexter contemplated for a moment, his voice gentle and empathetic. "Maybe it happens when you're really distressed," he suggested. Lincoln remained silent, his mind still struggling to comprehend the weight of recent events.

Sensing Lincoln's exhaustion and emotional turmoil, Dexter extended his support. "Do you want to head back?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. Lincoln could feel the dark energy within him slowly subsiding, and his vision returning to its usual clarity. However, before he could respond, a wave of dizziness overcame him, causing him to collapse to the ground, his consciousness slipping away into darkness.

Crystal sat on her bed, the weight of Lincoln's memories gradually fading from her mind as she returned to her own reality. She glanced around the room, still trying to process the intensity of the experience. She found Destry looking out the window, just like when she first met him.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Destry said, his voice gentle yet filled with a sense of understanding. Crystal nodded, her curiosity piqued. "How did you become a synthetic?" she asked.

Destry took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and resilience. He began recounting a fateful event from his childhood, when he was around ten or eleven years old, although the exact details had become hazy with time.

"It happened after a fatal car accident," Destry began, his voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "My parents and I were involved. None of us died immediately but the injuries we sustained were severe. When we were admitted to the hospital, it was clear none of us had any time left." Dexter continued. "The doctors then informed us of a procedure called 'Metempsychosis.'"

He paused, as if the weight of his memories pressed upon him, before continuing. "It's the process of transferring a person's memories and consciousness into another optimized and artificially created body, essentially allowing them to live on. However, it's an expensive procedure, and my family well... let's say we weren't on the good side of the economy..."

Crystal listened intently, her gaze fixed on Destry.

"They had two options," Destry explained. "The first was a physical drive, replacing my brain with a storage unit that contained my consciousness. However, the thoughts, emotions and memories of a person required a lot of storage which meant there would be no backups drives. So if I died again, well... that's the end. And then the second option was a much more premium package, which very less people even went with from what I heard. It's a cloud-based storage for my consciousness, though even that came with additional risks and expenses, such as the need for a secure firewall."

"My parents chose the first package, offering their entire life savings just to bring me back to life," he confessed, his voice tinged with an overwhelming sense of emotion. "They believed in the potential of the program, even though it was still in its early stages. But it didn't stop there. To ensure I wouldn't face any difficulties in acquiring the necessities of life, they made the heartbreaking decision to sell their own body parts." Destry's voice trembled with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow as he let out a heavy sigh.

Crystal's eyes widened. "They did all of that for the slim chance that you would even be resurrected?" she asked, her voice filled with astonishment.

Destry nodded, his gaze fixed on a distant memory. "Yes," he replied, his voice filled with a bittersweet tone. "They held onto hope, no matter how slim the odds. They believed that I deserved a second chance at life. They gave up everything to make it happen..."

Crystal remained silent as she listened.

Destry's voice quivered with raw vulnerability as he bared the depths of his inner turmoil. "Ever since I was brought back, I've struggled with a constant feeling of not being real," he admitted, his gaze fixed on a distant point. "I've questioned whether my soul was even within me or if it was up above with my parents, leaving me as nothing more than a vessel of memories. That thought haunted me, made me doubt my own existence."

"I'm sorry..." Crystal managed to say.

"It's okay," he whispered, his voice laced with self-doubt. "But there are moments when the weight becomes too heavy to bear. In those dark moments, I've had disgustingly intrusive thoughts, questioning the value of my own life. It felt disgusting to even entertain such thoughts when my parents gave up everything for me."

Destry's eyes glistened with guilt. "Joining the army felt like a waste of their sacrifices," he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. "It took me a long time to decide, but I realized that if I didn't seize this opportunity, I would spend my life filled with regret. I couldn't let their sacrifices be in vain."

Crystal listened attentively, her heart breaking for the weight Destry carried and the choices he had made. She understood the magnitude of his struggle and the conflicting emotions that must have plagued him.

He continued, his voice filled with wonder, "In that moment, as life slipped away from me once again, I felt a strange peace wash over me. It was different from the first time I died, a warmth that embraced me, guiding me towards something greater. I saw the light. I saw death. I knew I was departing from this world."

Destry's gaze became distant, lost in the memories of that ethereal encounter with death. "I realized then, in that fleeting moment between life and death, that my soul had been with me all along. That my parents were waiting for me. It was such a bittersweet feeling."

He turned his attention back to Crystal, his eyes shining with a newfound appreciation for his existence. "And now, here I am, conversing with you, connecting on a level that transcends mere memories. It shows me who I am. After over a century of being dead, I finally feel alive. I feel like I had a purpose, like I truly existed."

Destry's words hung in the air, filled with a mixture of longing and contentment. Crystal remained silent, taking in the depth of his revelation. She couldn't fully comprehend the magnitude of his experiences, but in that moment, she recognized the immense significance of his journey and the transformation it had brought him.

Crystal smiled gently and reached out, her hand finding its place on Destry's. The touch brought comfort and familiarity, an unspoken connection that defied explanation. In that moment, they felt grounded and present, as if their souls understood each other on a deeper level. Crystal couldn't help but surprise herself with the way she acted and spoke around Destry, but she no longer questioned it. Perhaps it was the lingering emotions of Lincoln, intertwining their paths.

As Destry felt himself fading, he spoke softly, "Looks like it's time we part ways. I've shown you what I wanted to, and though it may not have directly helped in finding the stone, sometimes a little break from everything is much needed. Don't worry, though. Not even an hour has passed in your real world, so you haven't wasted any time." Crystal nodded, a hint of sadness in her eyes, and replied, "Thank you, Destry. I appreciate everything you've shown me."

Destry smiled warmly, his form becoming more translucent. "Take care, Crystal. Remember, you have the strength within you to face any challenge that comes your way. You can depend on others, they trust you and they're betting it all on you. You should trust yourself too. There's a reason you were chosed as the current energy manipulator. The only one in this whole universe. Remember that." Destry said as they exchanged a final glance before he faded completely, leaving Crystal alone in her bedroom.