Chương 8: Within Another

POV: Richard He'd been trapped in this prison for too long. He knew he should've fought them to the death when he had the chance. His Primary, Exacting Body, let him control his muscles with absolute precision. When they found his group with a swarm of cars and spears, he felt that only death would come from fighting at such a disadvantage- but perhaps that would've been better than what awaited them. A shameful repetition of living in a cage, watching as those around him were taken for unspeakable things.

The Voice of Nothing had even stopped responding to them after their capture, the disgusting parasite. Yet, worst of all, his Primary shut down. He'd quietly discussed with the others in their group, and Richard was the only one who'd lost his Primary.

It was called Exacting Body, and it allowed him absolute control over every muscle within him, should he will it; with it, he noticed he was able to push past his subconscious limit at a moments notice but, most likely, it gave him unparalleled dexterity, allowing him to move in ways he'd never thought possible. At least, it had for a short while before they'd been found- then, no longer.

Oh, he could feel it within him, but similar to the shame he felt in himself, Exacting Body had rebelled against him, and now refused to heed his call. He couldn't even blame it. It obviously mirrored him, and his obsession to control every aspect of his life. He lived a routine of measure, and only when he was taken off guard did he allow his fate to fall into the hands of others; in doing so, Exacting Body considered him a failure.

Why should it assist him in controlling himself, if he could not control anything at all? He was worthless to it, and despite having barely utilized the ability, that single conveyance filled him with absolute, incomprehensible dread. His continued failure to take his fate into his own hand made that pit of dread within him grow with each passing second. It didn't matter that any action he took would be suicide, he was on the verge of going berserk and accepting his death, if only to escape the feeling.

And then the opportunity presented itself. A person he recognized from the apartments- the one missing member of their group. How could he ever forget him? He'd memorized every single person's face in the building, then noted who appeared around the strange phenomena. Yes, he was horrifically scarred and disfigured, but the key features and facial structure was there. Richard could not be fooled. Aaron was his name, eighteen years old, family that'd passed away two years ago, obvious signs of clinical depression.

He was pretending to be a cannibal, infiltrating their camp, and wielding a strange, glistening feather; when his eyes washed over their group, Richard saw him look at Gary- their landlord- and almost break character. That was when he knew their opportunity would come, and soon. Aaron did not have as perfect a grip on his emotions as Richard might've in his shoes.

'At least he has control in some form,' a pessimistic voice said, but he strangled it silent. Forced to stand and wait, he chose not to go insane when they took Amelia, buying him just a bit longer from his Primary, just a little bit more slack before it did whatever it was on the verge of doing. Standing at attention, he prepared for the moment Aaron would present.

Watching the chaos unfold as Aaron tore his way through the camp and Amelia boarded one of the vehicles, Richard's hands gripped the bars as he saw Amelia run towards them holding Aaron's odd feather; Aaron even surprised him when he stumbled forward as well, despite the spear lodged in his chest. He saw the latent hatred towards him in Amelia's eyes for abandoning her, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to save them.

Pulling back with the blade, she swung with her entire body, slamming the edge into the steel bars. Nothing Richard had done made the bars budge even slightly, and he'd managed to make a 325 pound power twister bend, an exercise he'd specifically trained in case he was ever trapped behind bars he had to bend out of the way. He had no idea why she was so confident in that swing, and when the recoil of vibrations ran up her arm, he watched the fear in her eyes turn to horror immediately.

Behind the two people attempting to save them, Richard saw the exhausted cannibals slowing down. They posed it as if giving Aaron and Amelia time to suffer the despair of their failure, with smirks and jeers, but he could see the way they wobbled- each of them had been sprinting around the camp for several minutes, and there wasn't exactly an abundance of food until recently. All of them were malnourished and atrophied, yet had gorged themselves recently.

With full bellies and weak bodies, any physical exertion was enough to push these bastards to their limit.

'Not like it will matter,' he thought with a heavy heart as Aaron gently take the gargantuan crystal blade.

'What will you do? It is obvious you are barely standing yourself.' Yet, as the trapped prisoners gave space to where Aaron would swing, they watched, hoping for the impossible. Richard stared Aaron in the face, seeing a strange, delirious look in his eyes. Despite glaring directly at Richard, it was obvious Aaron saw something else.

'Blood loss… he's going into shock,' he thought, seeing Aaron's pupils dilate more than he'd ever seen anyone do, to the point that he…

'What the… there's no way that's natural,' he thought, seeing the iris of Aaron's eyes almost disappear. He hadn't exactly done research on this, but he felt like there was a hard limit to how widely a pupil could expand, and as Aaron gazed deeply towards the middle distance, Richard couldn't help but fight the urge to shift uncomfortably at the dark opening practically touched the white of his eyes.

Standing there for nary a second, he watched Aaron's attention snap into place, his vacant look disappearing, and his pupils constricted into pinpoints. A look that made Richard's heart race just seeing it, and made several others take a step back Then, swinging the feather much more slowly than Amelia, Aaron gently tapped the bars… and Richard had to cover his ears as a deafening scream rang out. Aaron's arm didn't slow as he cut through eight bars, the entire cage giving him a look of wide-eyed disbelief.

Richard watched Aaron stumble for a second, the wounds covering him relax open slightly, leaking blood for a moment before he seemed to come back to his senses, the wounds clamping shut once more'Is he… actively holding his blood in check? What is his Primary? Is it like mine?' The prisoners behind Aaron stopped dead in their tracks when the bars were cut through. The leader raised his hand and said "CHARGE, KILL THEM!" Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Yet, only half listened, while many turned and fled, likely fearing an actual battle on what might be considered equal footing. Despite the toll of whatever Aaron was doing to break the bars, Richard watched him grit his teeth, lift the feather again, and swing out a second time. The ring of metal bars clattering to the ground was music to his ears.

Barely waiting the moment it took for Amelia to catch Aaron before he could fall, Richard was already exploding forth, grabbing two of the bars that'd fallen, one in each hand. For a moment, he considered taking Aaron's weapon, as it was unlikely the man would survive much longer- much less joining the fight. Yet he didn't, as using any sword of effective blade would make his next actions go by… Far. Too. Quick. He didn't roar in anger, shout victory of escape, nor try to rally the other survivors.

The cannibals were mere feet away from their two saviors when Richard passed them by, moving with all the sound of a silent breeze. The lead man held a grim look, but still moved forward. When Richard was close enough to count the chips in the tip of the spear, he finally swung out with one hand, batting the black glass weapon to the side, while the other caught the cannibal in the stomach.

The man dropped his spear, and Richard kicked him in the chest, throwing the first captor to the ground as two more rushed him. They were almost comically slow. When he was young, Richard had taken many boxing classes, and while that didn't exactly translate over to pole fighting, his reaction time was honed to a razor's edge.

He tore through the cannibals who hadn't run like wet tissue paper, overwhelming them with muscle mass and dexterity they could hardly comprehend- getting better as the seconds wore on and his Primary faintly sputtered back to life, granting him even finer control. In barely fifteen seconds, he was surrounded by shattered ribs and groaning cannibals, yet each one was indeed still alive.

He prepared to charge forward, chasing after those fleeing, when someone behind him called out "Bring me as many of the living cannibals as you can, quick! I can still save him!" Looking back, he watched one of the women he'd arrived with, Nicole, standing over the collapsed form of Aaron with a frantic glint in her eye. Yet, looking between her and the fleeing figures, he only shook his head.

He'd already decided to make them suffer, he would not put his choice in another's hands again, for fear of exhausting what little slack he gained from his Primary. If he did as Nicole said, she would be controlling him in a way.

"I can't," he admitted, turning away, not at all noticing the way such a statement seemed to make the energy coursing through him just a bit more sickly… * POV: Nicole Staring after the receding form of Richard, she fought back frustration- yes, she wanted the cannibals to be punished, but the very person that'd saved them was dying in front of them! The strange, green growths didn't seem to be actively killing him, but just looking at him she could tell he was seconds from dying!

Unlike Richard, Nicole's Primary, named Caring Attentiveness, had never stopped working- no, it'd gradually opened options for her throughout their imprisonment. Her Primary allowed for her to transfer someone's condition from one to another.

Originally, she could only take these on herself, decreasing another person's pain and in exchange feeling it herself, or accepting smaller wounds on her body to lessen the cuts and bruises of another, but as she continued to do so, she found her Primary slowly becoming more flexible- until she was able to get a small group of healthy survivors to take on some of the stress placed on the old and weak in their group, those who might not survive without intervention.

It kept them alive, but she was under a constant barrage of agony, taking as much into herself as she could. And now… now Richard couldn't even be bothered to delay his revenge for five seconds to bring her someone?

Luckily, the other survivors were streaming out of the cage, and the four people that'd helped her take on the burdens of those suffering listened to her words immediately, fulfilling her request by grabbing the closest cannibal- the one who'd once been their de-facto leader while "Boss" was out of camp- and bringing him to her. The monster struggled weakly, but Richard had pummeled them all into submission, and there was little he could do now.

Using her ability to assess her patient's wounds, she gasped as the "Options" she was allowed to select opened before her mind's eye. Enough cuts to bleed out in minutes, crushed organs, pierced lungs, a hole in his neck, acid burns coating a third of his body, and almost every usable muscle torn to shreds past its limit. He should have been dead.

Most concerning, though, were the green bulbs protruding from his skin in several places, each of which she'd mentally categorized as tumors; she would not have been surprised to find that he had horrific cancer as well- but that is not what they were. She couldn't even detect them with her Primary, each simply registering as blank spots. That her Primary bounced off of when she directed it towards them.

Shaking off the initial assessment, she did what she could to grab hold of their rescuers wounds, even through the resistance she felt within him, and turned towards the groaning cannibal.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I know you're horrible, but you should at the very least be put down easily. This… will hurt." Reaching out, she began to siphon away Aaron's blood loss and pain, funneling it into the cannibal. He began to thrash, screaming as his life was slowly drained away, but doing so stabilized her patient, giving her more time. She watched the pained look on his face relax, even while unconscious. Despite her efforts, she found harsh resistance. The bulbs on his skin?

Each of them extended roots down into him, and whenever her Primary would wash over said roots, they rejected it, her ability sliding off; considering these bulbs coated his wounds, this was horrible news for her. Luckily, the blood flowed towards anywhere she missed, but she knew this would be a problem, and didn't want to remove the spear until she figured out how to fix it- as a series of particularly large tumors circled around that wound in particular.

As a test-run, she focused on the acid burns across his skin, all of which were covered in a series of nail-sized bulbs. It was a superficial injury, but it would serve as a good test of how to heal him despite the strange cancer. Pushing her Primary towards it forcefully, she found the resistance immoveable, with absolutely zero give.

Worse, she could tell this caused significant pain, considering the tone of the cannibal's screams went up by several octaves, tapering into a wheeze as the pain disallowed even the slightest breath. She pulled away from the roots, and the cannibal went limp, only twitching slightly. She fought down the bile rising in her throat, nausea almost crippling her at the thought of what she was inflicting, but she refocused.

She could vomit and regret later, she still had to save him, but the tumors continued to stand their ground.

'Yet… what if I am looking at this wrong. Despite the crippling wounds, he was still moving. What if these bulbs are not festering on his pain… but preventing it? What if they are the very reason he is alive?

'They fill his wounds, but it is true that he isn't bleeding, and his lungs are clear despite the spear running him through. What if the bulbs aren't an infection… but stitches. And when I try to rip them out, his body fights back- registering me as a foreign object, his immune system is rejecting me. These are… they're his Primary! That's why it reacts to mine, because they exist on the same wavelength, and he's keeping himself alive!' If that were true, there was a chance, no matter how slim.

She had a theory, an idea that the Primary's were alive. She first thought of it after Richard lost his, stating that he believed his Primary had become "Disappointed" in him. Over time, hers began to respond more easily to her as she used it to help others, which was in line with such an ability and its name. They wanted their hosts to live the power, not just use it. So, if she could talk to his Primary, could she not simply tell it she was here to help? But how? It's not like she could just… Or could she?

Leaning down, she whispered "Please, I'm trying to save him, please let me in" while gently kneading her Primary against the roots of those on his acid burns. She felt the void soften slightly… Then she was in, the reach of her own Primary phasing through the barrier she felt around her patient's wounds. {Weight: 0 -> Weight: 1} More than any other time she'd used her Primary, what she was doing now felt visceral.

His own Primary hadn't receded, only let hers in, and now she felt like she was elbow-deep in his guts, prodding at his organs. She knew that if she made a single misstep or aggressive motion, his Primary would clamp down on her like a foreign body- likely hurting both her, and her patient.

But she meant as she said, she truly was here with his best in mind, so she moved through despite the feeling, and finally, slowly, she watched the burns on his face recede, the screams of the cannibal intensifying once more as an acrid scent filled her nose. Strangely, the bulbs on his face did not disappear as she worked- they bloomed, revealing that each tumor was actually the bulb of a yellow flower. She was drawn away from the sight by the sizzling and agonized crying from the cannibal.

Looking towards him, she watched the man's face melt in real time as her patient's gradually fixed itself. It was not a fast process. Her Primary was effective, but she'd still barely scratched the surface of it, and the growing utility as it began to respect her had a long way to go before it was an instant conversion. When that particular section was complete, she couldn't hold the disgust of what she was doing back anymore, and stepped away from her patient for a moment, vomiting on the ground.

Yet, after a few seconds of wretching, she simply turned around, her vision delving back into her patient's body just before his eyes flickered open.