Thunder and Webs C134 [Gold]

Ripley Donovick. The Architect of Ruin.

[TW: Suicidal Ideation // Self-Harm]

Chapter 134: Relapse: Forged By and For Ruin

February 28th

11:16 AM

Ripley

For the second time in a month, I cremated somebody. Someone who I’d hoped to give a better life to. For the second time in a month, I failed.

Skeleton killed my mother. He killed Alice. He never intended for peace… this entire time… he sought to mold me into…

I couldn’t even fathom what was going on his mind. Everything was white-hot as I traversed through the city, straight into his domain. Little Requiem.

I was surprised I hadn’t been attacked the moment I stepped in. But I wasn’t here for him.

The Hellfire Club was closed at this bright hour, but they opened for me. It didn’t take me long to find the muscular body of the Crimson Queen sweeping the floors, clearing up the trash from whatever debauchery happened during the nightly hours. The thick limbs of Silver-Grade Shardware on her body radiated heat, but I only felt a calm, calculating cold traverse my mind.

“Queen.” I said, my voice measured. “I’m here to finalize the preparations on Heart Seeker and Hexblood. And to take my payment.”

“That so, kid?” She flashed a dangerous smile, digging some trash up with a broom and tossing it aside. “I thought that Matrix of hers was supposed to take another month or two?”

“We’re not moving forward with her mind anymore, I don’t have the time to code free will into existence. But I have something else.” I reached into my pocket. “Like it or not, a Silver’s never going to be able to imitate Diana’s Gold signature. Unless…”

I pulled up a Gold BUG and SIM. “…they are one.”

She let out a low whistle, tossing the broom aside as she guffawed at me. “Now where’d you find something like that? I thought you were retired?”

“I was.” I said.

“Oh?” An amused glint lit on her face. “What happened?”

“You focus on Soul Killer…” I hissed. “I’ll focus on my own end…”

“Hah, knew it was only a matter of time, Dready.” She waved with her hand.

I walked through the Hellfire Club with a fresh dosage of the Nul-Serum. I didn’t want Psyche telling me everything was okay. It was not okay. A result was that I got to see the true face of the Hellfire Club without the Heart’s fancy illusions masking everything under a crimson light. It was a decrepit old place: torn wallpaper, chipped flooring, too many hallways and rooms and whatnot.

My guess was that it used to be a hotel. And I got to see exactly how the Heart’s illusions manifested. That one door which used to lead to an endless black stairwell was an elevator, and as the Queen entered it, a red glow covered her body as she kept walking and walking, but her feet glided along the rusty metal as though it was made of ice. She stayed in place while only under the idea she was moving.

“Huh… you’re immune to her?” The Queen chuckled.

“In a sense. Does it look like I’m standing still and moving with you?” I asked.

“Something like that. Real freaky shit.” The Queen barked.

We landed down into a basement-turned-lab. I wasn’t surprised to see one specific person there, even if I’d known they were alive. Anabelle Grazhe turned to the open elevator, her hand knocking down a test tube before she hissed. “Dammit Annie, get a hold of yourself!”

Her eyes were red-and-white, tangled growths of red-spider lilies were in full bloom in her hair and she had poor footwork, eyes trained to the ground as she moved.

“Oh, they’re complicated.” The Queen chuckled. “One controls the body, the other gets to speak.”

Anabelle… or Anomaly grabbed a scalpel and aimed it at me. Despite it, the one speaking sounded annoyed. “No, I’m not threatening you, Donovick. It’s my other half, she’s very pissed at you for killing her!”

“In good news, apparently everything can just be moved to blame the employer, or so said the employer who hired me to kill her.” I chuckled sarcastically. “In better news… I might just hand you The Dogwhistler on a Titanium platter.”

“Oh?” The Queen raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Still working out the finer details, but let’s say… she’s vulnerable at this moment, but things are complicated. If everything works out… who knows?”

“Yeah, but first, I want to talk to The Heart. I know I can’t exactly see her illusory clones, so I want to talk to her real body.” I didn’t leave much of a question in my words.

The Queen only grew more amused. “The fuck are you tryna’ do, Dready?”

She beckoned me to a curtain, and pulled it open to reveal the true form of the Crimson Heart. A Kaisel Clone. A hybrid.

Or an attempt at one. Laying down on a hospital bed was a woman who had many features of a Kaisel Clone but aged. Brown hair tinged red was now a frail white with splotches of scarlet. Patches of skin were rubbed off as vine-like growths broke through her into roses made of flesh, other cancerous outgrowths boiled and twisted across her body to reveal who she really was. And she was wrinkly, so wrinkly her eyes could barely open.

The Queen looked at the ‘old’ woman with gentle care I didn’t expect from someone described as bloodthirsty. She affectionately gripped the old woman’s metal arm, and the Queen took a deep breath as her eyes began to glow scarlet, and a new voice broke out of her. “Donovick.”

“Heart.” I responded. “A Gold BUG and a Gold SIM. Use them to reinforce the twins, they’ll be needing it if they want to mimic Diana’s abilities without being seen-through. But I have things I want in exchange.”

“Straight to business?” Her voice had a curious lilt.

“Yes, and this is… confidential. Between us.” I said with a hardened voice. “Don’t tell Diana, not yet.”

“Ah… so what parts will you be taking?”

“For my original payment: a two-by-four centimetre-square piece of his blade. For this? Bi-lateral extraction of ribs T3 and T4, bone marrow included; and his heart's left ventricle. And 55 grams of brain matter; 10 from his motor and sensory cortices, 10 from his thalamus, 10 from his hypothalamus, and 5 each from the pons, medulla and mid-brain.”

“My? What are you trying to create?”

“The bastard flaunted that I had a pale imitation.” I gave a dry chuckle. “Well… let’s see.”

———

On the ride back, I knew SynTec was likely watching me. There was no way they weren’t. But I found it strangely easy to accept what would come for me after this. In a way… Skeleton was right.

I was fated to become Dreadwire again.

And yet, a desperate, spiteful part of me sought to reject that. The skyline was as incredible as ever, and it seemed like everyone wanted me to traverse the cityscape rooftops with the Arachnodyne once again. All except her.

Her whose face flashed in a billboard on every street. I turned away.

I should call Diana for help. I should wait for Mirage to wake up. I should contact Twilight, speak things through with her.

But I couldn’t, I couldn’t go to either of them. Diana was a puppet, brain-dead or not, and I hoped one day she’d be able to break out of it, but she was Silvereye. And Silvereye belonged to the government and corporations. She’d promise help, but could do little to give it.

It would only compromise me to seek help from her. And that wasn’t even considering what she’d likely say to me. I could see her wanting to help me, that was just who she was, but she’d deny me the chance to put that bastard in a grave myself. She’d never let me be Dreadwire again, because she could never trust me again.

And I agreed with her.

As for Mirage? The Dogwhistler? Elsa? I knew that if I asked for help, she’d give it to me. The logical parts of my brain knew she did feel guilty, that she loved me, but they also repeated the countless times she’d lie to me and make empty promises. I wanted us to get better, to embrace the light.

But the darkness dragged me in again. And I doubt she ever truly left it behind. Did either of us ever actually change?

My breath rattled as I held tight to the package beside me. Who knew a corpse could be so volatile? Samples of The Bladefather, a member of Homo Ascendens capable of killing even a Tier V. I couldn’t use all the parts just yet, particularly the pieces of his blade, but the flesh would prove invaluable in expanding my capabilities with Goliath. It was from his blood that Midas Steel was born.

And when I got back to the safehouse Mirage was resting up in, just as she promised, there were 140 kilograms of it that had arrived.

———

Mirage’s comatose body lay so vulnerable, so weak in that delving chair. At this moment, I could do it.

Take out a member of The Uncaged. And yet… as false as everything was, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d only make the mistake and ruin the life of one other person. Founders knew why she fell in love with me, but maybe without me, she’d finally figure out what to do with her life.

“Goodbye.” I whispered, leaving the remote to her collar on her side.

———

Retrofit Operators was empty, just as Starlight had said it was. By now, the Nul-Serum had faded and I was able to feel the working of countless robotic drones down below me.

What I was going to do would not be easy… but I couldn’t let her go down with me.

I entered the lower levels with a false smile, for some reason it came easily to me.

“Oh, hey dad!” A drone buzzed past me. “I saw you enter, but like… I thought you weren’t supposed to be here?”

“Yeah…” I said, guilt fighting to come out and scream. “I talked to Skeleton.”

“Huh?” Her drones stopped, and I felt her presence trying to get into my head as a pink fairy materialized in my vision. “Um… what happened?”

“A lot, Star.” My voice came out weaker than I’d planned. I thought of many things to say to her, but none of them seemed right at this moment.

“Dad, where’s… where’s Alice?” Concern, and even worse — fear — grew in her bright golden eyes. And as long as she stayed with me, she’d always feel them. That was the curse of being born to an Architect of Ruin. It was the consequence.

“Alice…” I couldn’t lie to her. “Skeleton killed her.”

Starlight stuttered, she glitched for a second and remained utterly silent as her eyes wandered around aimlessly. “Wha-wh-why?”

“Because…” I tensed my throat. “Some people are just fucked in the head.”

“Why is he doing this to us?”

“He’s doing this to me, Starlight… you have nothing to do with it.” I said honestly. “But… if he finds a way to come after you, he’ll do it. Hurt you.”

“I’ll be ready to make sure he can’t.”

“No, Star.” I shook my head, scavenging through drawers until I found the Datacube I was looking for. “I’m sorry… but the things that come after this, the things I need to do, they’re nothing you should ever have to deal with.”

For the first time since I made her, I manually reached into Database and found the Starlight Protocol. She’d always been allowed to run at full capacity, but after everything I’d seen and everything I might do…

Starlight shivered as I shut off her access to the Net. She was locked in my skull.

“Dad… what are you doing? What are you planning?”

I stayed silent… but I at least wanted her to know the truth. “Starlight. I love you, from the day you were born you have been my guiding star. But I can’t let you guide me through this. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for breaking your heart so many times. I’m a shit human, and… a shitty father. I wish I had the ability to give you the life you deserve, and I want to work to that…”

Then I shuddered, as rich, pure hate melted over my tongue. “And that life is one where Skeleton is where he belongs. In a fucking grave. One where there’s not a trace of him left in this world.”

“Dad… you’re scaring me. You… are you and Diana going to-”

The hatred kept my words going. “Fight? Maybe. But this time… this time I’m not going to let her win. If she protects that bastard because he’s funding the police then I’m going to-”

I shut myself up. “This is why I can’t have you with me.”

“We can get through this, dad — one step at a-”

“You’ll be safe with your mother.” I deactivated her. That void within me only grew, a hatred towards Skeleton for making me do this… for making me…

Tears flowed down my skin as I clawed into it. Why was it so difficult to be happy?

I was happy. I was… and then he…

I reached for the Datacube given to me on Valentine’s, Mirage had designed it for one purpose. Graduation.

For the eventual day where I’d let Starlight be free from me. When she’d no longer be a Protocol. It was a day I expected to be happy. But instead… I hooked up to the cube, feeling a piercing chill radiate through my skull as the Warpcode inside reached for Starlight, not only her… but everything that made her a part of me.

If she was awake. I was sure she would have screamed. Instead, that pain slowly lessened as the cube pulsed a soft pink color. And then my Neuroframe registered a message.

Database Protocol: Starlight has been removed.

I felt unravelled, broken into pieces, but I didn’t stop moving. I summoned one of the Scrapling drones and handed it the cube as I gave it an order through the Constellation.

[Keep the package secure, deliver it to Diana Jones’ address in 100 Hours.]

At the very least, Twilight would take good care of Starlight… but before then, I had to…

A broken whimper left my mouth. “What the fuck am I even supposed to do?”

My mind forced itself to keep running, to keep working. To do what was necessary. What I thought was necessary. So I commanded my lab to shift, to unveil the parts of it I was beginning to lock away. Compartments on the walls opened up, drawers flung to reveal piles of metallic cloth and all around me were parts and pieces to remake Dreadwire.

All of it — steel.

But the last ingredient lay two ingredients were bound in blood. I organized the organic matter of The Bladefather on my table, before opening up a fridge as a vat of cultivated bone marrow stirred with a silver liquid at the bottom.

———

As Warp Energy returned to me, my capabilities returned as all aimlessness ceased to be. The Personality Matrix remained offline, but it was funny to me at this moment how even Preservation Matrix believed my methods to be correct. All those months, fighting my own Implant, and now we finally agreed on something.

Skeleton had to die. But there was a second thought that Preservation Matrix heavily disagreed with.

That all of his creations had to go with him.

In some ways, I could recognize — even respect the breed of insanity he had revealed. He was a man who had proved himself capable of clawing from the lowest rungs of society, to now making demands from the corporations that this new, detestable world had been founded upon.

I found myself caring less about the world. Why would I? I’d abandoned Starlight. My mother was dead — murdered. Elsa was built on a web of lies I’d let myself get tangled in time-after-time. Alice was brought to ruin by me twice. Diana was maimed by my hands.

Not Dreadwire’s. Not The Ripper’s.

Ripley Donovick’s. Who only ever sought to fix things.

Instead, old designs of rehabilitary Shardware were swept aside from Warpweb in favor of a nanite-sac installed into the new model of the Arachnodyne. An injecting scorpion-like stinger was then designed.

Dianium was decanted and processed within the Midas Steel born of those human-made MALs — once flesh and souls. They were people, and I perverted their forms into monsters to propagate my survival.

I didn’t regret it. This was simply the world we lived in. But I hated it.

I was tired.

Meanwhile, my brain scattered across bank accounts, organizing funds to be transferred here and there. Not for this crusade, but to send over to Twilight. I had 3 Gold Shards, which equated to 60 million Shardyne to appropriate as war funds.

20 Million of which would be fed to feed my next updates. But I refused to do it now, even considering the benefits Shardweave might receive.

Because I couldn’t let Psyche dictate my actions right now. I didn’t want to stop thinking about my mother, about Alice. It didn’t matter whether you were old and frail, or young and full of hope. This city would take.

And take.

And take.

And take.

Until all that was left was a skeleton. And even then — it would take from you.

I had to stop tears from mixing in with the bio-alloy I was designing. I wouldn’t be naming it Dreadsteel after all, no… this was much more fitting to be named after me. After Ripley Donovick — after the very thing he was.

Ruinsteel. It still used my shitty naming convention, but at least it was funny.

And I laughed. I laughed because: fuck all of this!

I could feel it, that uncomfortable steer of thoughts tipping over the vessel of grief in my head — like molten lava being poured down into the mold of my Implant from which Psyche would cool and form the next needle to further thread my mind to adapt. It was going to pour into another update, and I couldn’t stop it.

So I would cast it upon another vessel… and when that would inevitably overflow…

Thought Multiplier: Grief x Shardware Operating

I would pour it once more.

X Ruin

The anguish of multiplying three concepts of once was just what I deserved. And one by one, I cast my grief into my heart. I watched as the Nanites registered an understanding of the Bladefather’s cardiac tissue through which his-

X Blood

- ran through. The vital fluid which determined our lives. From which a mother fed a child within the placenta. From which we stained our futures. Shed by-

X Steel

Ah, yes, the very foundations from which this torturous city was built upon. And now I sought to unravel them as I poured my Gold into the extracted marrow cells of Silvereye, whose lightning struck proudly for everyone to see, but whose-

X Thunder

-only fell on deaf ears. A sound modulated and manipulated by SynTec and that puppet mayor of our city! And by Skeleton. Who had led me to Livewire, which I thread within the growing black mixture of bone-marrow turned black. It slipped and weaved to connect organic matter — Diana’s and The Bladefather’s bone-marrow; his left ventricle — into a-

X Web

-of black. It all came together so perfectly. The lump of flesh I’d created. A heart. A heart… and how many had stopped beating because of me? How many had I taken to their-

X Graves

Dead and buried. That’s how it should be. But it wasn’t. Skeleton had ruined even the sanctity of death. And he used the power of The Revenant to do it. I grabbed that same vial from which Skeleton raised the dead, and I used to inject life into this heart. It was fitting, the only time this should be near dead people was when you were grieving — you’d leave them-

X Flowers

Intricate knowledge of Soul Killer’s mutations granted this Bioware heart life. A creation born of death. Every beat pulsed to yearn for it. I didn’t bother with anesthesia, I wanted nothing more than to feel the pain as I slipped off my shirt and aimed the Arachnodyne inwards. In a blur of agony that was droplets compared to the overflowing water in my mind, I sawed through metal coated ribs and commanded my ribcage to open. I felt raw as the beating heart of my very essence was heard to my ears.

Like meat in a sac.

And yet, I dove within, I didn’t care about sealing the blood. Goliath would do it anyway thanks to my self-preservation instincts. I chopped through my aorta, and venae cava. And so I pulled what had once given me life out, I let it-

X Rise

And yet, had I ever truly risen above who I was? A grieving, lost boy who sought to escape pain? Who sought to bury his past? So many others had moved on, had risen since this tragic story began. And all of them were people who scorned me. Skeleton — namely… but also Shaun of the Snake Fangs. He’d left me and my mother in ruin. SynTec was more powerful than ever. They’d left us to rot. They didn’t want to see us rise. Just like this black heart descending into my chest, we were only destined to-

X Fall

To be left in ruin. To be forgotten and ignored. To be used and discarded. Vessels stitched up without conscious thought, the black heart beat steadily within my chest as I returned and returned my ribcage to its original position. Each pulse devoured Gold from me, drained my Implant to promise it revenge. Every gush was more effective at producing red-blood-cells than a hundred-people’s worth of bone-marrow. And just as quickly, they were converted into Neolymph at a steady rate.

Beyond that, a pulse of electrical activity down my nervous system commanded Dianium into production. And yet, I had more mysteries to unravel from the Bioware I’d grafted within me — not just to my body, but to my soul.

Bioware link is establishing…

I didn’t stop moving, I didn’t stop to let myself think. I needed storage for the Neolymph.

My liver and parts of my intestines could go.

———

6:54 PM

I’d never done so much Shard Operating in one day. I’d never been so dedicated to the craft as I was now. But was it even Shard Operating? I injected and forged steel, dissolved Warp Materials and oozed the components to bring this Shardware into existence. As long as I consumed enriched pellets of nutrients fit for a Tier III Mutant, I had the resources to produce a seemingly endless amount of Neolymph and Dianium.

And when my Warp Energy dipping, I simply drew from one of the Gold Shards. For an entire year, it could be converted into enough electricity for 10,000 households. I was one man.

My body felt like it had been torn apart and put back together like a jigsaw. Intestines spilled on the floor, a heart rotted on my table, my right arm — my mother’s arm — rested on a table and finally… I took out my left eye.

What was any of this all for? An endless war against Skeleton? He wanted this. He wanted someone who could oppose him. And it was that fact, that he thought I could oppose him, which let me know he genuinely believed I could put a stop to him.

But just as easily, I could be the tool he needed to ascend even higher. In his words, he’d adapt.

I grabbed a gun, settling down as I made sure all expenses were paid for and that Starlight has a sizable inheritance. Drones cleaned up my room, organized the lab, and kept everything under the appearance that I’d never been anywhere.

I was so tired.

I wanted to feel nothing.

I wanted to feel… at peace.

And even more than that, it would be the very antithesis of what Skeleton sought for. Maybe, in some twisted ironic sense, this would be the best way to scorn Skeleton. To refuse him in the most immutable method possible.

I gave an order to the Scrapling drones.

Should I die, deliver my Implant to Diana Jones’ address.

With that settled, I raised my pistol as the barrel shook in my hands, and stuck it into my empty eye socket to leave no room for error.

Then I pulled the trigger.

----

Next chapter is titled Relapse - Till Death Do Us Part.

Also P.S... Thunder and Webs is a tragedy. But do keep in mind, this is still the second volume... and many more are planned. All losses are temporary, as are all victories.