Kapitel 226: Truck-Truck
When one makes friends as a teenager, one is usually biased by proximity. We befriend those who live near us, the pal who lives across the street and the girl who sits beside us in class. It is usually not until adulthood that a different type of proximity arises, that of the person; the commonalities one has with another take precedent over location or who is placed near our lives.
But it was why Iris knew that she could never consider Olivia her mentor. Over these few weeks with her, Olivia has attempted to befriend her; she made for good comfort yet could rarely quiver the loneliness that still gripped Iris. Sleep had become a comfort for her in these past weeks, for while she was bettering, it was still only in dream that she could renew her universe.
There was an image she had recently: she saw a prison in which were billions of cells. Each occupant had their own food & water and they yelled across to the others through these stone walls, yet that they could not see any others made connection seem only coincidental. She wondered what there would be if she were to touch again at her own wall, if she could feel recognition as she had again, a wholeness that had been gifted to her once before it was denied again.
Then she thought in more concrete images; there was when she had been walking home, and she had seen a neighbor's dog burst from a loose board in its fence, then run into the street and was forever lost from her eyes. She wondered occasionally what had happened to it. But she could not understand why this was brought back before her now; she felt confused. There were times where she longed to feel what she had with Natasha again, yet she did not really understand how she could do so; she cried, though never in front of others.
Perpetual to Iris's mind was her worry that if she were a shit host with Meteorology, then she would be desecrating her mentor. In times of deeper mourning she tried to remember Natasha's advice, although it seemed an alien pattern of thought to her; for now she attempted to live for another, even if that someone could only be surmised by what no longer was.
While Naomi and Viktoria had fought enemy hosts & each other the previous day, Iris & Olivia had fought another host as well. Iris stood over his bisected body, a hook of Meteorology's wind permanently fishing out the breath from his lungs. He gasped in agony as she over-filled his lungs and then took his breath away again. A jet of lava swallowed his legs and left nothing there, and then there were his hands, his arms, as thin spikes of igneous rocks churned through his back and began to slice him into manageable chunks.
She glanced back to Olivia, expected her to be angry, then once more kicked him in the skull as he died below her.
"You done?" said Olivia.
Iris turned. "Thought you said your mentor would get mad at me if I didn't do it quickly."
"Personally, right now, I don't care what Naomi says to me or you."
Baal's maw vomited onto his head and they both snickered as his toupee spun around his scalp. Olivia repeated it a few times and she watched Iris laugh; something she was grateful to see. She had hated how Viktoria, currently, in her mourning of Natasha, was likely closer to the rhythms of Iris's mood; she could only hope that her protege could realize the impermanence of those sands.
Olivia had not thought of Natasha for a while, but she still was not sure what to feel over her death beyond respectful grief. Once she had thought Natasha selfish.
Yet in the year's passing between them, time had thawed that image stilled by their last encounter, and she tried to view Natasha as separate versions of one self; what traits of Natasha she did not like she grew to blame on Viktoria's influence, and those she had, she thought were chosen by Natasha. There was an essence to Natasha that she wished to believe could be separate from its flesh-driven attachment; then perhaps she could wonder if what had occurred between them may not have.
Eventually Iris's laugh shriveled, and she kicked his corpse once more. To Iris criminal hosts were an image into which she could pile upon all of her anger and hatred; far from the regret of becoming a student that grazed her mind after Natasha's death, she wished now to continue to kill as violently as she could. The internal habit of suffering for her would become an atmosphere that she could exact outward, and although not yet a coherent philosophy, she thought of this in image and action, thinking to give it a name so she could call it her own.
Olivia spoke: "Reminds me of this one time in Philadelphia, we were… investigating some Gorgons. They're this gang of female hosts who say they're gonna create a lesbian utopia, but instead, they just go around killing random men and attacking students. But there's multiple versions of them, basically."
"I've heard of them before. They've got some weird manifestos."
Olivia shrugged. "It's usually abused women who've been denied an identity their whole life, and for whatever reason, don't want to become a student. So they'll join a group that offers that even as it treats them worse than any men in their life do. I remember a Gorgon leader who just sent all of them into an ambush to die, so she could abandon them."
"Right, but what I never understood is that if they're actually set on killing terrible men, why not become a student and do it legally?"
"Because you're trying to view it as a rational decision. Most people don't choose politics rationally; they form them as part of an identity." Olivia smiled. "Okay, now I'm sounding like Naomi's Jewish friend. Let's go."
"I suppose politics can't override personality."
Olivia nodded as they walked away. "Anyway, I managed to find one. I was in her apartment when her ex-girlfriend shows up-"
"What were you doing in her apartment?"
"In...vestigation."
Iris looked at Olivia, who glanced off and seemed to reconsider telling this. "Olivia, you don't have to suture yourself off from me for professionalism's sake. I've heard the rumors about you on campus, and if I have, you certainly have."
Olivia smiled. "Well, I just figure because I am your... I'm in a position of power over you, so I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. But you can go ahead and say what I was doing."
"You seduced her and were about to murder her."
"That's right. I don't do that with men, in case you're wondering. Just the thought makes my skin crawl. But a female host? Sure. It's more difficult because we're more selective, but it saves me a fight." Olivia glanced at her. "If they're cute, I wait until after."
Iris smirked. "Uh-huh. You feel comfortable with that?"
"Sure, but not everything needs to be comfortable, Iris. It's just something I'm good at. Most people would be happier if they found what they're good at it and did it without trying to fit what they aren't. Like you, and criminals. Someone has to be cruel. Why not you?"
They soon went back to their hotel room and waited for Naomi & Viktoria to come back. Soon there was a knock at the door. Olivia gave Iris a pitied glance. "Will you be alright going with Viktoria? I know she wants you to, but if you don't want to, I'll keep her away from you."
"It's alright." said Iris. "I'm not planning on taking much gruff from her."
Olivia smiled. "Good. Well, if you'll be alright, Iris... I just, y'know, I feel responsible for you. And I sent you the hotel we're staying at next, right?"
Iris nodded, but she disliked when another exerted themselves on her behalf; if something were to be done she wanted to do it herself. She answered the door: it was Viktoria, who did not give one glance to Olivia. "Ah, you're awake. Good. I've already rented the car we'll take until the next train. Come with me, Iris."
Iris went with her and sat in the passenger seat of the car outside, as Viktoria did the driverside. Still she felt wary of Viktoria and did not plan to talk much. She still had told no one but Kate how Natasha had died, and even this because it had been required to report. Viktoria would ask her and she would refuse again, deepening the revilement that likely lay between the two. She feared Viktoria, though she tried to deny it through anger as the car moved.
"…Iris, you can speak at any time." said Viktoria. "It's a six-hour drive, and I don't intend to fill it with the yammering of Midwestern talk radio."
"I'm not recounting Natasha's death to you. I don't like thinking about it."
"Alright, then. I would like to know eventually, but if you do not feel comfortable, then I won't inquire further."
Viktoria adjusted the mirror and let her eyes adhere to the road, but Iris saw in her gaze that she had denied her a small joy of finality, or so she believed. For a moment she thought there might be something more here.
"I don't understand why you and Olivia dislike each other so much." said Iris.
"Olivia was my first protege before Natasha. I cannot say much worse than what the intelligent girls in your class already do. She is promiscuous: some perverse notion of charity to those who are lonely, presumably. The loneliest among us are those in the crowd. She enjoys leading others on and the attention she receives solely because of her looks, and if one is to bring up the obvious, the privilege she enjoys because of it, she complains that it is not her responsibility that others act how she entreats them to. Her desires are very male in the excess, in alcohol or sex. Were it not for Urasaria keeping her trim, she would be a gross mass of fat and flesh. She attracts only those who would scorn drinking from a spring of fresh water in favor of a glass stained by many lips."
"I just don't see promiscuity as a disqualifying characteristic in a woman. She isn't irresponsible, is she?"
"Did the description I give sound like that of a responsible woman? She would be a poor mentor precisely for why she was a poor protege: her loose morality and lack of discipline, her view of life as a constant state of pleasure; something that I'm certain you know Natasha was quite against. It was why I was proud of Natasha, even if there was occasional consternation between us. I forgave her indiscretions and she forgave mine."
"…I suppose she warned me against the same." muttered Iris. "Always thought she was too strict with herself, though. I thought she was some sort of ascetic for the first month I knew her, given how strictly she ate."
"She ate essentially the same meals every day, yes. She told me once that she did not even get enjoyment out of food: more of an obligation to some base need; perhaps one she wished she could par down."
"Right, but I never understood that. Good food's an important part of any existence. Besides, she would say that, but I knew she would sneak sweets on occasion." Iris laughed. "So, maybe it was something she believed publicly but knew better privately. Still, I remembered when we ate at the cafeteria, she'd get these glances... some women thought she was robotic. Ate the same meals daily, exercised, not much interest in other women on campus."
"Precisely why I had always advised her to not care what others on campus thought of her. She could not become better were she still beholden to the expectations of those below her."
"Right. She told me that, too. I suppose I just wonder how much of that was a conscious plan, or a reaction." Iris looked to the road. "Naomi is Olivia's mentor, right?"
"She is, and she was Natasha's first mentor. Yet despite that, I'm sure you noted that neither Olivia nor Naomi visited Natasha in her first months as a mentor. So I doubt Natasha considered Naomi her mentor."
Iris frowned. Only now did she remember Natasha's last babble: she had been busied enough by grief that she had not realized it was likely the same Naomi. "I didn't know she had another mentor."
"She was only with her for two months, before she decided that Naomi was too poor a mentor. But two months of mentorship can still harden too-hasty habits in fights. And now, she plants stonewalls in fight to try to block me off and trap me with an enemy Revenant. Minor nuisances, but they indicate enough her view of me. But don't confuse her petulance for empathy; she is only here for that and no more.
She never once asked after Natasha's progress, and in fact seemed to hate her. She took Natasha's choosing of me too personally. It was quite annoying, as when Natasha and I would go in for contracts, Naomi would occasionally be there. After months avoiding speaking to her, she eventually fumbled through some apology for Natasha: 'I didn't mean to treat you unfairly, Natalia.' … So while it may be difficult to believe, Iris, I am genuinely looking out for your well-being by keeping you from them."
Iris was not sure whether she would choose to believe this or not, yet she felt distrustful of Naomi. This talk of Natasha had saddened her again, and she resolved that in her grief, she needed to come up with a means to deal with it all, lest she sunder herself again as she had after her parents' deaths. She felt angry still, occasionally, though towards what she could not grasp.
So she stayed silent as Viktoria drove out of the city and to the country roads & farmland.
"…with that, you understand my outburst, yes?"
"I suppose I do."
"Of course, there is still my..." Viktoria saw something in the rearview and adjusted her mirror. They were on a one-lane road; a freight truck was coming up behind and had no intent of slowing. "Iris, see there."
"A host or an idiot."
"Precisely. See how he responds to Natasha's snow."
A wall of snow shot up behind their car as Viktoria drove. Ten seconds separated as she slowed a bit. "Embed lava in the next."
Iris nodded and her next snow wall contained a wall of lava. The truck went crashing through the first snow wall with no damage done, then the second to similar results; Iris saw its exhaust pipes swoop down and suck the lava off its hood as it lurched up behind them; a few seconds separated them as its driver slammed the pedal -
- but the truck veered left & off-road for a second, two wheels in the air and two on the ground; Otstoy's tentacle was stretched out of the window and grabbing at the left tires' rims, trying to pull it over, but as the truck slammed back down to four wheels -
- a ramp of kept it diagonal & still driving slanted; Viktoria yanked at it again -
- but the truck slammed down & smashed
- but the truck veered left & off-road for a second, two wheels in the air; Otstoy's tentacle was stretched out of the window and grabbing at the left tires' rims, trying to pull it over, but the truck soon slammed back down to four wheels -
- but a ramp of lava kept it diagonal & still on two wheels, though slowly sinking into the spicy drink; Viktoria spoke: "Cool the lava with wind."
Iris sent out a jetstream that cooled the lava into igneous rock, and a tornado of snow followed to dilute his vision; the truck was still diagonally driving upon the slanted ramp of black, but it pulled itself up, then slammed back down into the rock, smashing & smashing through it and sending pieces of rock spewing towards them -
- but a gust of wind blasted it back into the truck's windshield; only a few seconds separated them now, and the exhaust pipes swooped down, shooting through their own car's trunk and latching tight like a drinking straw in a cup; Viktoria slammed the pedal and the lurch forward their car made nearly threw Iris into the dash. (Hosts typically do not wear seatbelts.)
Iris winced and felt a minute shift in herself, though not why.
"Suddenly accelerated twice its normal speed." muttered Viktoria. "It's going to pump lava into the gas tank; we must exit. Iris, blow the car left and ourselves right."
Iris nodded, and a gust of wind launched herself out of the car right; a hook of wind took Viktoria with her as she blasted the car left, and as Viktoria flew past her -
- Otstoy's slime tendrils grabbed Iris and they went flying much, much further than usual, sailing over a field of wheat for a few moments, both their senses accustomed against the nausea of such a flight, landing within the crops in a glob of slime that protected their landing.
Iris didn't feel Viktoria for a moment and glanced back as she stood up; she had landed harder than usual and was still reconstituting behind her, reconnecting all the pieces that had splattered in Iris's landing.
She realized that Natasha had probably usually used her wind to soften it, then frowned to herself a bit. She heard the truck still going up the road ahead, though the wheat was thick and she could not see it well. Five seconds, it was up the road and nearly a dot in her vision. Ten seconds, it unlatched its straw from their car, then turned unnaturally quickly and veered into the field of wheat as it searched for them.
Iris crouched down and helped Viktoria pick up the pieces, still no body but for a shuddering puddle with a still-beating heart within, tendrils extending and bringing life back to itself. Soon she reconstituted and crouched beside Iris, hearing the engine of the truck grow louder; then dimmer; then louder again.
"Either a transformation Revenant or the host is in the driver's seat." muttered Iris.
"Do you feel any location-specific abilities?"
"Drought or locusts." Iris smirked.
They soon smelled the scent of burning wheat, and Viktoria's eye extended up from a slime tendril, her lips moving: "He is spewing gasoline and setting the crops slight."
Iris sighed as the heat rapidly grew in the area, the smoke already brushing against her face, and as she felt the wave of fire wash towards them -
- a gust of wind pulled out the oxygen and dulled their flames, alerting him to their location; they had only a few seconds before he would be driving to them, so Iris spoke fast: "Pull me out if this goes poorly."
"What do you plan on-"
A gust of wind shoved Viktoria to the side as Iris stood up in this burning field, blasting some charred wheat into the truck's face as it turned to her, only 10 seconds separating her as the truck rushed towards her. She stood her ground as 8 seconds separated them; they were 5 seconds within as its exhaust pipes extended and spewed more gasoline towards her -
- but she lashed out with a wave of wind that slashed through the wheat and sent it sailing into the gas to absorb it, and three seconds separated them during the next instant scene.
She launched herself up with a gust of wind as a sharpened jet of lava burst out of her chest, slicing up through the truck's face as the pipes spewed black smoke in her face; another gust of wind launched herself up & over as the entire truck was enveloped in these black fumes, but two tsunamis shot into the exhaust and kept it clogged; still mid-air, she launched herself to the right as another jet of lava shot through the vehicle, keeping her laser surgery going as she launched herself up, and over, and to the left with a final stream of green electricity -
- that sliced through the metal and left the truck to fall into neatly cut pieces as she landed some feet away, glancing back only to see its host's corpse fall out in a similar predicament.
Of late Iris had become used to the texture of Natasha's bacteria; she felt faster, more violent and more evolved for physicality. Though grief still stymied her, she tried to train with Meteorology as often as she could, worrying that if she did not then she would be a shitty host and squander Natasha's memory.
Viktoria came over and crouched down to scan.
[Truck-Truck: Truck!]
Iris eyed his truck and noticed there were deep cuts in the tires, and as they walked back through the crops, she thought that some sections of the crops were taller than the others.
There seemed not pride to the gaze that Viktoria turned towards Iris, but moreso the anticipation of it. Iris smiled.
Olivia had texted Iris to ask if she was still on her way & was she alright, and Iris responded to both affirmatively. When they arrived at the hotel, Viktoria tried to book their room together, but Iris asked if she could keep their prior arrangement; staying with Olivia and Viktoria & Naomi both by themselves. Viktoria hesitantly agreed.
Iris disagreed with the social conservatism of Viktoria, though Iris herself was rather dismal on alcohol and drugs: even at bars she never drank. Casual sex, of course, was different. But she felt obligated to try acquaintance with Viktoria; to somewhat continue the relationship Natasha had. She thought that through Viktoria she might access more memories of Natasha; that she could swaddle her grief in amusing anecdotes of her, for she still felt saddened whenever the topic came up for long.
It was while examining their conversation from earlier that she recalled something Viktoria had said about Naomi: "She was only with her for two months, before she decided that Naomi was too poor a mentor. But two months of mentorship can still harden too-hasty habits in fights."
She recalled that she had been required to tell Kate the circumstances of Natasha's death; it had been the only time yet she repeated it, though she assumed the others on this trip had heard of it through Kate as well. It was no private matter for Iris; she felt grateful she would not be interrogated again. Yet that night, she still wondered of Viktoria's phrasing, which continued to crawl towards her, a luminous reason she sought to refine into reality.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein