Synthetic Violet

Chapter 7: Final Preparations

My third eye still aches. Every time I try moving it around or hiding it, the throbbing begins, threatening to immobilize me again. I've given up trying to look normal. It's a strange experience, but at least it's easier to see now.

Food isn't hard to come by in a city this populated. You'd be amazed at the quality of food in the dumpsters uptown.

As I eat, I can feel Phil's tongue resting near my liver, wriggling like it's confused, in the wrong place, not sure what to do. I hope it won't force itself out like the eye. I don't think I'd know where to put it.

I've had some time to think about what it means to be Vagabond, the shapeshifting hero, a thief of flesh who stole two eyes, two tear ducts, and a tongue. Some hero I turned out to be. The only time I'm not feeling sorry for myself are the moments where I'm thinking about Phil. I hate him and everything he is, trying to make me think that he actually cares. Meanwhile I'm just something for him to inspect under a microscope.

I need to try something else, I need to get of the streets. In all the excitement of the past few days, I couldn't feel the prickling on the back of my neck. I'm being watched. Time to make a new face, a new name, and a quick backstory for the three eyes. I'll figure that part out later, right now I need to get out there and find out what everyone is saying about Vagabond. All the gossip, I hope they choke on it.

Let's get to work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not my best, but it'll do. I've chosen a larger build with masculine features and a paler skin tone. I've also shifted my own eye into shape and color matched to the other two, a perfectly serviceable disguise. Not the strangest face this city has ever seen, although three-eyes are a rare find. My first stop is the news stand. I need to see the papers.

A kid is still restocking them into the box when I approach, and I nab one when he isn't looking. A quick skim of recent events and I find it on page 12, not as far back as I would like. The headline reads: VAGABOND AT LARGE, A SHOCKING DEVELOPMENT. "Last spotted entering a locally owned drug store downtown, security footage shows an unstable woman, thought to be Vagabond, melting their hands and attacking the owner, 53 year old Tania Greenburg. She remains in the hospital for observation, and has strangely developed dry eye after the encounter (Continued on page 23)."

Don't panic. The image is blurry in the first place, and there's no easy way to track a shapeshifter on sight alone. But, damn it, they figured out it was me. I don't think I can keep doing the hero thing after this, it looks like I had a complete mental breakdown and attacked someone at random. I think this face will be less temporary than I thought.

I glance around to see if I'm being watched, and I spot him. A man in a brown suit on a bench, reading the news. He sits perfectly upright and has not a single wrinkle in his pants, shirt, or tie. And there's something else; From my angle, I can see his eye is glowing faintly red.

My head throbs the moment I see it, like a dull knife in my skull. I wince involuntarily from the pain, but try to stay calm on the surface.

It's not working. It's him. He tried to kill me. He's had eyes on me this entire time, hasn't he? I need to get out of here.

Where did everyone go? Where... the... the paper boy, he was just here. It can't be this quiet out of nowhere, we're in a city.

From deep inside comes a thought to replace the rapidly shrinking pool of plans and logic, something I can no longer block out.

Run.

I turn away and feel a sharp pain in my side, and the world falls away.

=======================================================

"Doc, Doc! Wake up! Come on, Doc, I know you can be stupid sometimes but this is a bit much. Doc. Doc! PHIL!"

Janus is propping me up on the wall, holding a rag to the back of my head. I guess I passed out and hit something.

What happened?

"Damn it, Doc, you messed up the mind reader." She scoffs and pulls it off my head. "Serves you right; Now I don't have to listen to your hormonally compromised thought processes." She walks over and places it on the workbench. "Once Des gets back I'm sure he'll get fix it up, but for now we're stuck with lip reading and charades."

I indicate to my head and give her a thumbs up. She looks at the injury again, and makes a note. "Well, you seem to have gained enhanced healing from this little accident, so at least I can stop worrying. Any mental differences you can notice? New thoughts, a different voice in your head, maybe some more idiotic ideas you'd like to share?" She baps me in the forehead. I deserve that.

I shake my head no, but a quick brain scan couldn't hurt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's nothing. No mental changes, no neural pathways being rewritten or tangled or mangled all to hell. My scans from before and after the experiment look identical, even down to the weakest neuron. I was right, nothing I did to V could have caused his mental break.

I feel like dying. At least if I'd found something, anything, I could blame myself for what happened, and then get on with killing whoever hurt him. Not to mention that I still don't know who that is.

I suppose it still is my fault, and that makes me feel bad as intended.

My slow spiral of self-pity is cut short when Janus' phone rings, and I hear Desmond on the other end frantic and not trying to hide it.

"You guys need to get to the warehouse district right now. Someone took V."

Neither of us move. She hangs up without a word and we sit in silence.

Even if I could speak, Janus wouldn't need me to. She runs to get the car while I grab as much gear as I think we'll need. As I turn to leave, I see the violet blood my equipment continued to synthesize while I was passed out.

I grab a few bags, just in case. I hope I won't need to use them.