Season 2 - Blogisode 19

The walls of the cramped, windowless room are shaded a dull yellow giving tell to the stone it was carved from. The entire room appears as if carved from the earth, no indented form to it, just a floor, some walls and a door, and Jade.

Tied to a chair with the wickedest of headaches from when Christian had accidentally slammed her forehead first into the tunnel wall she comes back enough to know not to give it way yet.

She cracks an eye, shifts light round her neck to catch a span of her surroundings. Four dust and crack walls, a wooden chair and the rope that holds her to it, a single light dangles above her head.

The swollen metal door clinks an echo, its multi-lock sequence runs course through to the top and the door swings wide.

Christian steps in, somber about his brow. He looks up.

“You’re awake.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me you’re still alive.”

Christian leans into the wall and takes a spot perched on the floor in front of Jade. He swings the door to a slow shut. Head drops, he takes a slow easy breath then looks up at her.

“So you think you might be able to tell me what the fuck is going on? Like where you people came from, how you managed to have facilities like that in this world and what those reptile fucks had against you guys? Don’t mind me, I’ve just had a fucked up couple of years and I’m starting to lose my patience with all the unanswered questions.”

“This coming from someone who can morph into a lizard at will. Maybe you know a little more than you think you do.”

Christian lifts to his feet with a spring, steps quick to Jade hand first. Thrust quick with his fingers he sends her, in chair, across the small quarters into the solid rock wall with a THUCK.

Her chair clatters hard to the floor, Jade on side bleeding heavy from her mouth and nose, she grits her teeth to spite the pain.

“I guess we’ll talk later.”

Christian turns from her in anger. Stiff out the door he shuts it hard on the other side, the locks engage.

To her front Jade clenches her eyelids and holds tight her face in effort to off the pain, to her back a hand moves slowly, methodical about the spot of splinter where the chair’s frame had given way. The ropes that bind her shift toward escape.

THE CENTER

Set scrambles about the machine, the monstrosity born of industry and leviathan. Its sphere center dull of diamond sits rest upon a web of polished alloy made of tint and texture unknown to the periodic table, nor to the commons of our day’s alchemy.

Sixty feet from side to side, it rests center the room of similar form. In the farthest corner, near one of four portals that cross from pole to pole and East to West, Set stands in lean over the interface system.

A large box to the rim of the monolith holds dim the lights and switches that represent to console Set now toils over.

He pulls a lever then foils with the smooth top of the palm sized screen center panel.

“Munat shope calad!”

He screams in a tongue unfound in any dictionary slamming a scaled fist onto the top of the panel in frustration.

He shuffles round the back of the contraption taking a knee near the place where the seams come together on screws.

The side of the box comes loose at the pry of a claw and falls with a reverberating ring to the floor. Set’s hands quickly dive into the machine’s side, through the mangled mess of chip and wire.

“She’s awake.”

“Hu?”

Set startles. A leap of the reflex and a whack of the head on the underside of the inside of the contraption shakes his fluster.

Christian stops still some feet from Set, stuck place in fait awe of the grand machine.

“So this… thing, is supposed to fix everything?”

Said more to self than other he speaks in whisper that touches his eyes from the backside.

Set pushes to foot, brushes himself off of nothing and looks to Christian.

“Is there something you need?”

“Hu… oh, yeah, she’s up. I just thought you should know that the girl is up.”

Set allows his annoyance to flutter across his lip.

“Unless you’ve gotten tired of it yet and we can finally kill the poor thing I don’t want to hear about it.”

They share a fleeting moment of subtle contempt between the eyes before Christian breaks to sway back to the machine.

“You want to tell me what this is supposed to do yet?”

“It’s supposed to fix everything, set it all back to zero.”

“That’s hardly an explanation. I think I’m going to keep her company until you get this, thing, up and running.”

Set penetrates a strand of suspicion through Christian’s tone.

“This won’t take long.”

Set leaves his interaction and slides back down to his place beside the console.

Christian turns to leave, stops, on the floor near Set’s feet, Constantine’s diary. He had almost forgotten about it, almost forgotten all of it.

In the back of his mind the picture, perfect to detail, Constantine’s face hovers near his mind’s eye.

Black.