Home Again

Chapter 21

I found myself back in my chamber of machinations with about three hours having slipped by. I felt conflicted about it, glad it wasn’t longer and worried about how I’d felt like it had been. The place where I’d been trapped with 24 had wrecked hell on my sense of time. There was also the fact that someone, at an administrative level, wanted me dead. Or at least bits of me.

24 had seemed to have the same database of pop culture garbage banging around in her head as me but no sense of humor. It left an odd aftertaste to the injury. Not quite an insult but something more personal and worrying. It was like someone cutting bits from a character’s personality in a fanfic to make them conform to a fantasy.

“They’d be fine if not for x, y, and z,” I could hear it in my head. The heavy breathing as a personality and point of view were outright denied. Denied in favor of spank material. I shivered, hoping my brain had just gone somewhere dark rather then that being 24’s intended fate. Fantasy was fine. Personal desires were a private matter when it was fictional characters. No one was hurt in the process of constructing said spank material.

It was when that could be carried out in reality that it became the stuff of nightmares. If it was what was meant to happen, it might have been kinder to kill 24.

I shivered and noticed that my inbox had fifty messages. Most were from the skeletons and the hounds, but several were from Elim as well which was odd. Opening them I found that he’d tried to call his report in and when I didn’t pick up, he’d become worried. I sent him a quick assurance that I was fine but busy. A filthy lie, but I didn’t know how to summarize the weird.

The hounds could text. The surreal nature of that took a moment to absorb before I remembered that typing wasn’t involved. I opened the most recent ones and found they had been looking for me since the raid ended. Stalin’s font was a simple block text with no punctuation in black. Blackmores was a scribbly all caps.

The raid had ended. I shook myself. Knowing I was dawdling and not having the luxury of processing things with my usual leisure.

“Event Log,” I said with a sigh. A perfectly impossible thing to do as one could not sigh and speak.

"Rollback three hours," I said while sucking my teeth. To my surprise, I found I could still "speak" as I had before, my mouth apparently not fully integrated. It was an odd thing, but I didn't have time for the distraction.

Looking at the event log I found the timestamp where the log said Reiner had died. I rolled my footage back to match and let it play out in real-time. Andria gave Mina the healing potion a few moments after I left. Mina’s status changed from dying to critical but was stable though she didn’t wake.

Speeding the play back up I watched the skeletons, wanting to know what they'd gotten up to. It turned out to be very little. With how things had gone I thought they might do more to help the girls. Instead, they alternated between trying to get ahold of me and peeking through the mirror. Checking up on them but not doing anything.

It seemed like they were nervously trying to figure out what they should do in my absence. Until the hounds had come up to the boss room at least. Ignoring the girls, the hounds had entered the mirror. That was when the texts went from several to a flurry as everyone panicked.

Jumping back to the current time they were all still in the bone brigade’s breakroom. Talking among themselves and trying to figure out what to do. I needed to talk to them soon but didn't have the energy. They'd likely need fewer explanations than Elim but I was still sorting out my experience on my own end.

I'm back,

Sorry for the scare. Something odd happened and I'm still sorting it out. I won't be getting back to your texts individually, but I'll hold a group meeting soon.

Thank you all for caring,

42

The text wasn't the best but it was the best I could do for the moment. I sent it and stopped spying on the breakroom. It was time to check up on the girls who were still in the dungeon.

An hour after I was taken Andria had pulled Mina into the safe zone. She was still there, huddled on the floor shaking. Looking at her I thought it was from emotional shock rather than cold. Even so, double-checked the temperature. The area was a reasonable seventy degrees, so I didn't adjust it.

Sixteen was an adult locally, but now that they weren't invading hero's anymore it was hard not to see them as kids. Kids who were alive thanks to Henry and Deidra. Remembering what happened I didn't feel anything dramatic like betrayal. The pair had gone against the dungeon's best interest but not out of spite. If anything, they were acting like I had more than once.

Even so, I wasn’t happy and saying I felt nothing would have been a lie. 24 and I had connected for a reason. Even if it was only for a brief moment, I’d felt like she did. That monsters shouldn’t have autonomy. I’d probably thought ‘that much’ instead of ‘none’ but the question of degree didn’t matter. I wanted them to do as I said and hold my best interest as sacred. Saying that they could do what they wanted in their free time didn't fix the fundamental issue. A watered-down version of a terrible thing was still terrible.

To add to the fun, I could feel it and other dark thoughts squirming around in my mind. Like they were waiting to whisper in my ear in moments of weakness or confusion. I couldn’t be sure how much of it was innate or a result of 24 and her creators meddling. It also didn’t matter. Either I could make my own choices, or I couldn’t. My ability to analyze myself suggested that I could and was there for responsible for my actions even if my thoughts weren't the best. No matter how many bad ideas occured to me, I had to choose to act on them.

Even so, the experience nagged. Bringing up memories of how somethings just came to me instinctively. Things that a human wouldn’t have had a reason to know. How much of my behavior was influenced or controlled by the system? Like finding the dark little mots in your vision from your optic nerve. It was something that couldn’t be unseen, only ignored until you forgot about it. Only forgotten until you noticed it again. A loop of trying not to look at my behavior or beliefs for fear of finding something unpleasant.

“Fuck…” I muttered aloud, flinching at the feeling of speaking physically with my mouth. Grimacing it took some effort not to explore it with my new tongue. My existence was a moral vipers pit and no matter what decision I made, I had no idea if or how I'd be able to act on it.

Reset Monsters: Y/N

The prompt opened unasked for as if to answer my question. Everything had its place, and everything belonged in its place. They would become compliant drones and I would be the Empress of a tomb of my own making.

“No,” I said aloud for my own benefit as much as to answer the system. I’d been angry when it offered me the choice to enslave people, seeing too much of my own circumstances in it. Now though, I was just mentally exhausted. Even so I had made up my mind and stared hard at the offending box of text. The prompt disintegrated and I felt a sharp jolt through my body. There and gone in a flash I didn’t know what it meant, and nothing showed up in the log. Without a clue, I turned my mind to other matters. Like the fact my doorbell was sounding.

“Come in,” I said, still getting used to having an actual voice again despite it sounding the same to me. I’d installed the enchantment for the hound's sake, but it was the first time it had been used. The door my chamber of machinations swung open, but they didn’t rush in. Instead, a very singed Henry was standing in the doorway.

I made a mental note to rearrange things so denizens other than the hounds could visit more easily.

“M-Mistress 42,” Henry knelt as he spoke, which was a first.

“Uhm, what are you doing?” I asked, not understanding his intent.

“I-I I’ve c-come to to accept m-my p-punishment. D-Deidra thought I-I ac-acted on-” Henry stopped when I put up my hands.

“Let’s put talking about punishments aside,” I said flatly. I didn’t need to assign blame, I wanted answers.

“Henry, what were you thinking when you jumped in like that?” I asked, still uncertain of his reasoning. He’d acted against the most basic logic of the dungeon by saving an adventurer. Why mattered more than what he’d done.

“I-I d-didn’t think. I-I just c-couldn’t let that h-happen-happen and still think of m-myself as…m-me,” Henry replied, still stuttering but without the hesitation I expected. It was a feeling I could relate to.

“Would you fight her if she came again?” I asked. It wasn't likely that she'd make a run for it. The question was for the hypothetical possibility of her returning for revenge. A tick late I realized that my question didn't directly apply to what had happened.

“I-I wouldn’t i-insult-insult h-her b-by r-refusing,” Henry answered, looking up at me for the first time. It was a steady gaze I wasn’t used to.

"Would you act to save her if the fight was fair... or at least reasonably so?" I asked. My new question more on point.

"N-n no," Henry said flatly.

“That’s good enough for me,” I declared. The anxiety I felt bubbling up about possible future problems was something I'd have to live with. Since I'd decided not to reset anything I would have to get used to not being fully in control.

“M-mistress? Is is t-this really fi-fine?” Henry asked, taken aback. It surprised me, I’d expected him to be happy if only for not being punished.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I want you to listen to everything I say, to put me first, but I also want you to be your own person. At least enough of one that I don’t feel alone,” I said, spilling my guts to a skeleton and not having the cognative resources for a mental chuckle at the thought. I felt like shit, I was confused, and I really wanted to be able to sleep. Not because I wanted it out of familiarity, but so I could blackout for a few hours and ignore what had happened.

“Also, please get up, rise, whatever. I don’t like kneeling,” I said, feeling less happy with the situation by the moment. Henry obliged then held out his hand. Confused I mirrored the gesture, wondering if he wanted a fist bump. The bone brigade, I suspected more specifically Christopher, had come up with their own version of it.

Instead, he stood up straight to put his hat back on. That done he then executed an elaborate bow in which he took it off and did a loopty loop with it. He took my still outstretched hand into his own and pressed his teeth to it. Dumbfounded I just stared as he stood back up and put his hat back on. It was a half-beat later that I realized he’d kissed my hand, a gesture I’d half-forgotten about.

“I-I am honored t-to ser-serve you,” He said as he put his right hand over the left side of his ribcage where a heart would have been.

“Why?” The question escaped before my brain could catch up with what had happened.

“L-long story story,” Henry replied, and I caught a mischievous tone to the thought. I smiled, wondering if it would show up or be lost like the rest of my features.

“For now, get back to the bone brigade and let them know… I’m dealing with things. I didn’t mean to ignore their messages,” I said once I decided not to press for an explanation. Henry nodded and bowed to me again, but without flourish. I smirked, wondering if his earlier performance was just to cheer me up.

I started to turn away but before my back was to him, I caught a motion in the corner of my vision. A bone hand reaching over to adjust a leather flower. I’d forgotten about placing them in my chamber of machinations and hadn’t moved them when I called him in. A cascade of prickles flowed down from my face to the tip of my tail instead of a blush. After receiving them I’d sent a thank you text but had avoided him otherwise.

Once I was alone, I went to look at the bouquet. I couldn’t tell what he’d done if anything and sighed. I didn’t know how to respond to the gift or the feelings they represented. Feelings I was too cowardly to even ask him to clarify and to inept to identify based on the context. I had to laugh at myself as I realized just how many problems I was dealing with and how ill-equipped I was to face them.

Henry was shaping up to be quite the charmer.