1:5:4 Rewind (Part 3)

Darkness. Then. Light. An intense and blinding light painted their vision white before adjusting to see the vignette before them. A grey and sterile room unfolded around them, a single cot style bed rose up into the centre and a sizeable operating light dropped from the ceiling. Crait led the group over as their past self and a familiar doctor joined the scene. The younger Crait stood, unable to remove his hands from his chest. As he did, it revealed two thin scars running under each of his breasts. New muscle had been grafted in to fill any gaps creating a natural chest shape. Despite not being perfectly flat, it was exactly what he wanted, he just didn’t realise he wanted it that badly.
“You’ll need to take a few days to recover, get used to the new you and get your new equipment fitted but, I should be able to sign you back on for training by the start of next week at the earliest.” Doctor Walsh chuckled. “I will need to see you before that though if you really want to start the new regimen.” Walsh pulled out a PDA from his back pocket.
“I’d love that!” Crait couldn’t keep himself on the floor. He didn’t care that he was half naked, his happiness couldn’t be understated. “I’ve been thinking about it for ages and now is as good of a time as any.”
“Then I’ll book you in for Thursday. With any luck, you’ll be fit enough for the first dose.” Walsh’s eyes widened as he remembered something before settling down after a second realisation. “Actually, that’s fine. We’ll have a fair bit to discuss though.” He reassured Crait with a smile.
It didn’t matter to Crait. He had never been happier and that feeling translated to the others watching the memory. Lore, Char and Crait all felt the almost infectious happiness that was Crait post top surgery. The First wasn’t feeling it though. Looking at the same scene, they couldn’t help but feel disgusted and disappointed in themselves.
“That was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and I was alone.” Crait looked over at the already guilty The First. “Top surgery and the prospect of hormones… I’d never felt more... myself. And after that appointment, I was a new person… A stronger person.” The room faded away.

“Loren and I still trained together, wouldn’t be much point training without a living sparring partner but, with my newfound strength came… other changes. I realised I wasn’t really shy, I just had really intense vocal dysphoria and the hormones helped me find my voice.” Crait smiled at The First. “And before they say it: Then they never shut up.” They laughed. The First didn’t. “It’s true though. I may have lost the ability to feel certain emotions but new ones took their place. As the changes started to improve my well being and day to day life, I started thinking more about other people and their lives. The things I had taken for granted and enjoyed that the average citizen couldn’t dream of. I decided that I wanted to use my voice for change, to help people who couldn’t help themselves. So I did.” Lore found themselves in a familiar location. Hundreds of people shouted around them, their presence colouring the grey, Sheffield streets. Painted signs and brightly coloured flags painted the town; blues, pinks and whites clamoured together with purples, whites, yellows and blacks, marching as they called out for their freedom. Crait stood proud at the head of the pack, his full armour made him stand out in the crowd. He marched tall with cloak made from one of the three flags draped over his shoulder. The blue and pink were strangely complementary to his white and black armour. His voice, amplified by his helm, rang out louder than any of the others.
“Nulls No More! Legislation for all!” He led the chant.
“I didn’t realise at the time that I was calling not just for their rights, but my own. As soon as I learned about what was happening to the ‘Nulls’, those people like me, I couldn’t sit by and watch. Someone else could…” Crait shook their head.
“I helped out… Just not during this protest.” The First’s face hardened. They tried not to show a reaction to the event yet to come.
Loren watched from above, looking down on the crowd. It didn’t take them long to find their target. They hadn’t expected it to be who he was.
“Wait for it…” Crait held up their hand. A falling figure blinked out of existence just before hitting the ground. “Now.” It reappeared, redirected and flying straight at Crait.
The crowd scattered. Crait and the mysterious figure stood alone. The shouts that had once rang through the streets had been replaced with screams. Crait matched his combatant move for move; he knew who it was, just not why.
“You can lose the mask, I know it’s you!” Crait switched up his style to focus on disabling shots.
The figure dodged Crait’s attacks skilfully. “You have no idea.” A feint attack had left the figure open to a devastating blow to its helmet; Crait’s gloved fist tore it clean off, revealing the true nature of his attacker.
“Loren.” Crait scowled breathlessly. “What the hel do you think you’re doing?”
Loren nursed his bleeding lip. “Stopping you.”
“Anything you’d like to add?” Crait looked to The First, the memory paused.
“Listen.” The First closed their eyes.
Time rewound and suddenly, the crowd returned. A strange feeling came over them as they were dragged up the building Loren jumped from at high speeds. They stopped at the top, stationary in the air, looking down at Loren.
“Where is it…” A voice that sounded like Lore had washed their mouth out with gravel spoke from nowhere in particular. “Hold on…” Loren scanned the crowd below. He had identified his target. “What’s she… No what’s he doing here?” Loren checked their Slider. “He’s supposed to be on base.” He paused. “That’s not Crait.” Tapping at his Slider, Loren set his co-ordinates. “Command, I’ve got eyes on the target. Cap or kill?”
“The mission briefing should have been clear Loren. We need it alive before it causes a worldwide incident.” A voice came from their communicator.
“Understood.” Loren nodded before jumping from the building.
“I think you know where this is going…” The First shook their head.
Crait shook their head too. “I don’t think you get a say.” They looked back as Loren began falling once again and the memory resumed.
The fight began once again but this time, from Loren’s point of view. Their stomachs all lurched as Loren’s did when he activated his Slider; the translated momentum meant that he collided with his target at considerable speed. Crait wasn’t idle but he did, for a moment, hesitate before fighting back. They traded blows, one for another until Loren changed his tactics; he Slid from view only to reappear behind Crait to strike him unaware. Before Crait could react, he was gone again and already preparing for his next attack. He continued to Slide around, appearing and disappearing at random intervals and from every angle, making the most of the new technology.
“It’s got some resilience, I’ll give it that.” Loren’s thoughts echoed.
“You’re good but not good enough.” Loren shouted between ragged breaths. “Surrender now or else!”
“Why did it have to be him though?” Loren complained to himself before getting back into his rhythm.
The punch up continued, neither having an advantage over the other. Loren thought back to the briefing he was given, none of it he could apply in the moment; all of the openings were too short for him to do anything. Every time they tried to reach for a weapon, the target countered and tried to reach for one of their own. An almost stalemate. Then it came to them, Loren ducked before jabbing his target in the gut; a flinch was all he needed to recalibrate his Slider. The stalemate was broken. Sliding away, Loren was able to remove his mace from the base of his spine, extending it as he returned to the fray. His mace boomed as it connected with Crait’s chin. The moment extended to eternity as the shock wave travelled through Crait’s helmet; a spider making its web, the shock sent fractures across the surface before the mace swept them aside. Most flew outwards, making it look as though the helmet was exploding from within but some chose another direction, embedding themselves in Crait’s face. Polymer fragments clung around Crait’s cheekbones and eyebrow, decorating him like a cactus. The blood came soon after. Half the helm remained but the identity of the wearer was undeniable.
Loren tore his own helmet off. “But… But… But… You’re…” His face drained of what little colour it had.
Crait didn’t know how to respond, neither of them did. The polymer that had made its new home in his face should have hurt more than it did but the shock was taking care of the pain. Crait’s mind shut down, all he could do was observe in disbelief.
“He hit me… You hit me.” Crait’s present stared at The First in disbelief. “This can’t be true. I’d remember that.”
“Bugger.” Loren thought. “Bugger.”
The First’s face became stone. They just stared back at Crait.
“SAY SOMETHING!” Crait roared. “WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER THIS?”
The First took a deep breath. “Because of what happened next.” The First closed their eyes.
Silence reigned but was soon replaced by the sound of sirens. Police and medical vehicles rushed to the disturbance, responding to a protest punch up; a helicopter started to descend over the scene. He looked up at the vehicle before collapsing his mace; now compacted to a solid mass, Loren curled his fist around it before swinging. The hit did its job and more. Crait was incapacitated. Loren looked down and noticed that a piece of the puzzle was missing, driven into his skull.
Crait couldn’t believe what they were watching. Loren lifted his lifeless body before Sliding away. The memory continued in a darkened room. Lore recognised it as one of the medical rooms; Walsh entered and immediately started doting over Crait. The room soon faded to black.
An awkward silence clung to them, its stench lingered. Crait couldn’t take their eyes off of The First.
“I had so many things I was going to show you…” Crait’s voice was soft and quiet as they turned their attention to Lore. “But I don’t know if I could show you anything worse.”
“Show me anything worse? Why are you doing this?” Lore looked over to Char.
“I wouldn’t mind knowing that.” She added.
Crait looked to the group. With a wave of their hand, the medical bay vanished, taking The First and Char with it.

“You know, I sometimes envy you… Well, the other Lores.” Crait took a seat. “They get to start over afresh each time, do something different each time, experience the cycle again and again. I just got a series of MemDexes to tell me what happens when.” They gestured for Lore to take a seat too. “Sit. Now, I’ve shown you the person who made you and their modus operandi and, well, you know what I want… So now, I offer you a second chance.” They laid on the table a wallet and a pistol. “Join me: End the cycle and help save humanity.” They hovered their hand over the wallet before moving it over to the pistol. “Or… Continue down the path you’re already on and see if it’s the twenty-sixth time lucky.”
Lore weighed up their options. From what they had seen, both were sub-optimal. They stared at their choices. “No.” They said softly.
“No?” Crait echoed.
“Ever since I saw The First during The Three Year Month, ever since I learnt about who made me, I’ve never agreed with them.” Lore scoffed. “So you showing me all of this, sure it’s lowered my opinion of them a little and raised my opinion of you a bit but… It doesn’t really change the fact that I’ve never liked their plan.” Lore’s sonics appeared on the table between the two options. A golden hand removed them. “We’ve made our choice.” Lore stood at Char’s side. “We came here on our own mission. We’re going to complete it.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Char rested an arm around them.
“Interesting…” Crait swept the table and its contents away. “Well then… I suppose it’s time to show you where this pathway ends. We’ve seen it before haven’t we ‘First’?” The First reappeared as the room vanished.