1:5:4 Rewind (Part 2)
By Lore
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They watched as Sheffield was constructed around them. Loren and Cait walked hand in hand through the concrete redwoods growing over them. Almost everything around was built from the same, grey concrete, occasionally broken up with large panes of glass; advertisements clung to every surface like moss, providing some much needed colour to the city centre. Lore looked upon the depression that surrounded them with disdain. Visually blending but not matching the overall emotional composition of the area, Loren and Cait were happy. They virtually skipped through the otherwise lifeless road before Loren pulled Cait off course and into a coffee shop.
The memory was especially potent, the overpowering smell of cheap, burnt coffee nearly knocked them out of Crait’s mind; after taking a moment to adjust, they continued watching the two lovers.
“I’ll go get drinks in, you find us a seat.” Loren’s suave tone and confidence set Lore and Char on edge.
The noise of the cafe faded as Crait manifested. “I don’t actually remember too much of what we talked about in that booth.” They nodded over at their past self, engaging in moderate petting with Loren. “But it was an almost perfect afternoon. The owners kept coming over to pester us to ‘Buy something or bog off!’ so we did.” They chuckled. “We stayed nearly the whole afternoon and out hands stayed on one another the whole time too.” Crait winked.
“Why are you showing us this?” Lore moved towards the couple to try and hear what they were saying. Although their lips were moving, no sound came out. Being so close, Lore did manage to get a glimpse at what Crait meant by ‘Moderate petting’. The two of them were virtually one; Loren’s hand was trying to find its way into Cait’s blouse but she appeared to be tactfully blocking its advances.
Loren tapped at his wrist before dragging everyone present in the memory through the Breach and into his bedroom. He and Cait landed on his bed and continued as if nothing had happened; that soon changed. The petting grew in intensity from moderate to heavy as Loren repositioned himself and started kissing every centimetre of exposed skin on Cait. As he reached her neck, she tried to restrain her ecstasy before giving in. Loren again tried to make his move but, like last time, Cait stopped him. Unlike last time, her face grew severe.
“Because, unlike all of those Lores and Chars who made you, I’m not afraid to show you how the sausage was made. I want you to know exactly what die you were cut from. And what I was too.” Crait walked over to join them. “And what a pair of sausages are we…” They shook their head. “What I’m going to show you.” They called Char over. “May be a little unsettling. That’s life. But I will try to explain any extenuating circumstances as and when necessary. Like now!” Crait moved to one side to allow Char a better view of their past. “We were the first Inquisitors. A proof of concept programme so we needed to be perfect. Right now. He’s so full of drugs, he literally can’t control all of his urges.” Crait manifested a platter. Atop it a selection of pills, powders and syringes. “This was going into his body every day. Twice a day.” They shook their head. “He was on hormone replacement therapies that would make the sanest person mad. See this?” Crait removed part of the tray. “Three times the recommended amount of Testosterone for a boy his age, Finasteride to prevent hair loss and wastage and, if I’m remembering correctly, that’s just one of the steroids. They had him on so much it was a wonder he didn’t go insane earlier. Sure it made him handsy and a little pushy but he never hurt me…” Crait paused. “Well, he never hurt me physically.”
“What about you?” Char asked. “Did you get the same treatment?”
“Eventually, but you’ll see that later. At this point, I was already on puberty blockers to try and prevent any further developments. Puberty sucked… Both of them. Um, but they had me on everything they could to try and build the best version of me.” Crait rolled up their sleeve. There was a series of needlepoint scars running down their arm from the crease of their elbow. The same was true on their opposite arm. “In a few years time, I’ll understand exactly what he was feeling there.”
“Doesn’t make it right.” Lore rested their hand on Crait’s shoulder.
They returned swiftly to familiar environs as Loren’s room fell away into the training auditorium. Loren’s treatments were obviously working. Judging by their looks, the memory took place only a year or so after the coffee shop but their body and muscles had developed significantly since then. Cait was just phasing into reality when she suddenly stopped. A semi-transparent Cait stood frozen on her approach to Loren and the ring; Loren himself was locked in position. Lore felt a tugging sensation. At first they thought it their collar but it grew in strength and intensity, spreading to their nape and then spine. With an almighty wrench, Lore found themselves flying through the back wall of the memory and into the void that surrounded it. As they travelled, they saw the memories they had recently visited and the ones Crait had lined up for them to watch next. After the experience of having their spine torn through the back of their neck, they were met with another, unique pleasure; although nothing changed, it felt as though their eye had been wrenched from its socket and transplanted into Crait’s. They were slumped on the floor of Cyenzeit’s hall, unable to control any aspect of Crait’s body. Their eye was locked on the door. Lore wondered why they had been brought there but the reason became apparent rather quickly. The door became ajar and from it, The First entered. Lore watched as they scanned the room before dashing to Crait’s body; as they examined Crait, their body started to glow. The closer their fingers came, the brighter the light grew. Contact. As The First’s skin touched Crait’s, they felt themselves unable to break contact. In an instance, they were transformed into pure energy and absorbed into the matrix of the harness. Lore found themselves following The First back to the auditorium.
“No.” The First couldn’t manage anything else.
The memory resumed. Cait manifested fully.
“You better take that off.” Loren’s face grew severe. “You know what Alo’s like about you training in that bloody binder.” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know why you insist on wearing that bloody thing.”
It was as if The First had stepped into a nightmare. They watched on, unable to change a thing.
“Because it hurts to take off.” Cait was wounded by his words.
Loren scoffed. “Maybe its because its crushing your ribcage. Your body is magnificent.” He drew in closer. The First buried their head in their hands. Loren ran his along Cait’s sides.
“Stop it.” She mumbled. She was sure it was loud enough for him to hear but he didn’t. “Stop!” She screamed before retreating into the tunnel.
Loren remained. Shaking his head.
Crait appeared beside him. “Our first fight. Start of our first break-up.” Their eyes widened as they noticed the newcomer. “Oh, hi Lore. This was a long time coming wasn’t it?”
“I regret how this played out.” The First looked to their past self. “I know I never said it then but… I’m sorry.”
“You’re right. You never said it.” Crait followed in their past selves’ footprints. Lore, Char and The First were forced to follow. Someone was crying in the distance; they knew who it was. Sorrow and regret filled both of the Lores’ hearts. Lore watched on helplessly, unable to do anything to comfort the crying form before them. The First watched from as far away as they could, tarnished by their deeds. “You never asked but I sat and cried here for nearly an hour solid before I came back. Suspended in a micro-loop. Part of me was waiting for you but the realist in me knew you had been wanting to say that and worse for so long.”
The First approached Crait. “I am sorry.” A tear formed in The First’s eye. Crait was almost taken aback.
“You’re not. Well, anyway, moving on. This is supposed to be my life not theirs.” Crait swallowed down the lump in their throat before clicking their fingers.
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