THE REALITY OF A BROKEN MAN...
PROLOGUE: THE PAINFUL LIFE AND THE JOYFUL DEATH
---
Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.
Thud...
His legs gave out.
It never ended. The walking. The fighting. The pain.
It was like clockwork. The life of Brad Armstrong had amassed less hours in total with a full head of hair than it had moving in one direction, locked to one set of tracks with no splitters. A cycle of violence, guilt, and protection, looping over and over again for eternity, one leading to the other leading to the other which led back to the first. Sometimes, he thought it could be different - he tried to change things. To turn it around... To be a good man.
But there were no good men left.
Now... the best he could hope for...
"..."
... Was to be a different shade of bad than the rest.
Brad took some JOY!
It was better than suffering.
Over the span of a long, weightless few moments, the aging man's reality shifted. His heart went from hammering the beat of furious war drums to pulsing a slow, steady rhythm. The beads of sweat dotting his bald crown ceased forming, his nerves numbed. The ravenous pain, that tight, needy knot at the center of his chest that clawed and burned whenever he went Joyless for too long, finally subsided. He had fed his addiction... For now. But in that moment, it gave him the strength he needed to keep going. To keep fighting. For her. Joy made you feel nothing, but no amount of it could blot out his feelings for the one he sought, the light at the end of the tunnel that was his painful journey... She was the only one who ever made him feel anything. The only one who mattered to him anymore.
His little buddy.
That was why he had to find her. To protect her. This world, Olathe, was vile... Cruel... it'd chew her up and spit her out like tobacco if it got the chance. She was just a kid. She was his daughter. He might've been a nobody, a waste of space... But he wasn't gonna let that happen.
After a life filled with wrong... this was finally his chance to do something right.
He grunted, lurching himself forward onto his knees from where he'd fallen. His old, worn hands scraped up dirt underneath their fingernails, the soil dry and cracked from the same blistering sun that beat down constantly on his gleaming bare head. He managed to feel his way over on his hands and knees to the nearby tundra wall, those natural formations man had built into to turn caves into homes over the years since the Great White Flash, providing him with the support he needed to slowly, painstakingly ease himself up, years of hardship taking their toll on his nevertheless-strong bones.
It was only after he brought his gaze up from averting the sunlight that he saw it. It was her... A picture of her, anyway. One of the many he'd seen since his journey began. Though his gaze lingered on the photograph, it was the message etched in blood underneath it that truly captured his attention.
FIND THE GIRL!
She is our future!
... Future...
What a load of crap. They were sick. Depraved. They'd use her up like a tissue until she was spent. They only wanted to hurt her.
One scrap of meat couldn't feed an entire goddamn world of hungry dogs, and they knew it. They didn't care about the "future" - there
was no future. One girl couldn't change that. The only thing they cared about was their own perverted desires... Everything else was trivial to them. Including her life. He knew what they'd do. He'd seen it.
He was the only one who could protect her.
"... Buddy."
He looked up, features almost completely hidden between his bushy brows and thick beard, save for the overwhelming resolve emblazoned all across his face.
"I'm coming."
Nothing was going to stop him.
---
Some time later.
Brad marched on.
Night was falling, but he didn't let that deter him. Even when the cold winds started to blow in the absence of the sun, the old master simply held his poncho tight and blew into his fingers to warm them, rubbing his hands together to generate friction. He paid no mind to the howls of animals off in the distance, nor the deep, rattling moans of other things entirely that rang out in response. Things that really didn't merit thinking about. Those were bridges he'd cross only if he had to. As it turned out, he wouldn't... tonight. But there was another bridge waiting for him just up ahead.
A cave. It went right through the mountain and offered shelter from the wind, at least, so he'd make use of it. The trouble came with knowing there was a good chance the dangers inside outweighed the one posed by the cold.
Not that he cared. You couldn't hit the cold.
Brad didn't hesitate...
Into the cave he went.
"..."
His first impression was that it was quiet. The stead
drip, drip, drip of rainwater trickling in from above was the only sound that greeted him, its rhythm almost soothing. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe the path was clear...
Then he saw it.
In the corner of his eye. Something moved. Not a shadow, but... something like... an
absence of shadow. A pale figure of white where there should've been black. It made no sense, but nothing in this world did. He'd stopped questioning it a long time ago.
Brad spun around with speed that belied his aging demeanor, the rustle of his poncho cutting through the silence like a blunted knife. He turned, raised his fists, and came face-to-face with... nothing.
Less than nothing. Just rocks and silence.
Was it in his head...? Was it the Joy playing tricks on him? No way... this didn't fit the MO of his usual delusions, and he trusted his instincts. He knew it was real. There was something here.
What it was, he didn't know. But--
"Hiya!"
A voice suddenly piped up from directly behind him. It sounded close. Too close.
"..."
Brad turned around.
"... What the hell..."
It was impossible. How? The nobody's grim features didn't betray much surprise, but his voice said it all. What he was seeing was unbelievable. Unprecedented.
Well, almost unprecedented.
"You're a..."
He didn't finish, so after a moment, the other person did it for him. His brain was still trying to process what he was seeing.
"A girl. Thanks, happy you noticed."
She cut a young, slender figure, her skin pale like snow and contrasting a gothic sense of style. Black lipstick and eyeliner made her look like something straight out of the pre-White Flash days, and over one shoulder she twirled an embroidered lace parasol that didn't look like it'd be very effective at stopping rain. Her posture was relaxed, composed, and generally cheerful.
Too cheerful for Olathe.
"I don't understand..."
"Ha! Sometimes it's just easier not to try, I suppose. Don't worry your shiny bald head about it. Me, I'm just the talking air, out for a stroll."
She made to step around him, only to react with mild bemusement when Brad suddenly took her by the wrist and started gently but adamantly leading her away.
"Well, now
I don't understand. Where we off to, then? Anywhere good?"
He didn't answer her immediately, almost too deep in thought to even hear what she said. After a moment, however, he shook his head.
"... We need to find you clothes... Something that covers your shape. And a hood... A mask..."
It was clear now that his mind was already working a thousand paces ahead, trying its best to adjust to the sudden shock of seeing this strange girl. Even while his logical side protested, his guilt compelled him to want to protect her. Just like he protected Buddy. Just like... like he
should've done before. It was only right.
The girl herself, however, seemed to find this hysterical, masking a hearty laugh with the back of her hand while making no move to resist being dragged along.
"Oooh,
right! Well... Cheers, but I like the way I look now. And what you're trying to do is nice, but unnecessary. Haven't you got your own problems to deal with?"
"..."
Brad stopped. He turned around to face her fully, unable to bring himself to meet her gaze, posture slouched as recollection flashed in his eyes... When he looked at her, he didn't see the pale girl with the parasol and strange markings. Brad saw someone else. The landscape morphed to hideous red gore and sinew. Noise blared in his ears, a mishmash of poor-quality cable static and distorted sitcom laugh tracks. Just like HE used to watch. In the center of it all stood a girl in a white nightgown, matted with blood, vomit and tears.
L I S A.
LISALISALISALISA
These were the hallucinations he was used to. The fruits of Joy.
"... You don't know... Please... You're one of the last. One of the last women. The people out there, they'll..."
"Bradley."
She stopped him in his tracks with a single word, the girl's chipper expression giving way to one that was almost haunting. Her expression carried the wisdom of untold billions of years, and behind her youthful eyes lay every spectrum, every nook and cranny of existence condensed into a swirling cosmos of eternity.
"I know. You're afraid they'll hurt me. Beat me, kill me, or worse. And you're afraid because you've seen it, and because you never want to see it again. But it's not that simple for me; I'm nothing you should be worrying about. It might be hard for you to understand this, but I think it'll make you feel better... there's not a thing in this world that can harm me if I don't want it to. It doesn't exist. So all that worry, all that compassion... those aren't things you should be feeling for me, Brad. They're things you should be saving for her."
Silence reigned once she was finished, the girl having nothing more to say for the time being. The grizzled, miserable man before her simply couldn't think of anything to
begin with for a few moments. When those moments were up, however, he found it in himself to speak.
"... How... How do you know my name?"
In response, the pale girl simply twirled her parasol, a friendly smile playing on the edges of her lips.
"I know everyone's name. But enough about me, I'm not very interesting. Wanna go to a party?"
Again, Brad's face wasn't one that channeled surprise easily, but it still took him a moment or two to truly comprehend the absurdity of that question. During this time, he said nothing.
"I'm allowed a plus-one. I was invited a few months ago, reckoned it might be fun. For you, I mean, not for me. I'll be
working."
She sighed overdramatically, rolling her eyes like a teenager who didn't want to go to school. After a few more seconds, Brad shook his head.
"I can't. There's someone who needs me."
He didn't doubt the validity of the things this girl was saying, somehow, but none of it changed the facts. He didn't have the time or interest for parties. He turned away, intent on continuing down the winding passage of the cave, but stopped when he heard what the woman had to say afterwards.
"If you're sure. I can tell you for a fact that she's safe, though, and she'll stay that way 'til well after things wrap up where I'm going. Plus, I think it might be good for you... Who knows? Maybe we'll both learn something."
She smiled, folding up the parasol and turning away herself to proceed in the opposite direction. She hadn't made it so much as five steps when a portal opened up in front of her, seemingly a doorway in the very fabric of existence, one bathed in a light so bright it was impossible to see what lay on the other side. Before stepping through, she spared a final glance over her shoulder at Brad where he'd stopped to stare at the spectacle.
"My offer stands. Just follow along if you change your mind, all right? Tell you the truth, I could use the company."
And just like that, she was gone, leaving Brad in an empty cave with a door to someplace else shimmering before him.
"..."
Brad started walking.
---
Shortly thereafter.
"You're not on the list dood! Sorry dood!"
"..."
This was a stupid fucking idea.
Brad was about to turn around and go right back the way he came, back through the portal, and back to his own goddamn world and problems, when he was interrupted by a shout from just nearby.
"Oh! That's him, Pingu! That's my plus-one!"
It was the girl from before, now wearing some kind of long, flowing cloak with a hood and scythe. She jogged up, looking apologetic but nevertheless sporting a big smile.
"I told you my name's not Pingu dood! I'm not even sure we accept plus-ones dood, but I'll go check with my manager right now dood! Wait here dood!"
It waddled away without another word, and the girl quickly winked and beckoned Brad into the main ballroom. When he complied, he almost felt the urge to stop and do a spit-take at what he saw. There were girls, and women, everywhere. Laughing, smiling... Existing happily, as normal. Just like before the Flash.
Now
this was unprecedented.
But contrary to the vast majority of the depraved, disgusting human beings who pervaded his homeland of Olathe, all of whom would've been beside themselves with lust, Brad's thoughts never so much as wavered towards the carnal. He never felt he deserved a wife, or love in general, and that didn't change after all his world's women died off. There was only one thing on his mind.
"... This could be a safe place for her."
Somewhere Buddy could be the normal girl she deserved to be. Somewhere she could live without fear of being the last girl in existence, the object of every pervert's depraved fantasies. Somewhere she could just... live.
This was it. Everything she deserved... was here.
But Buddy wasn't.
"I suppose it could." The strange girl echoed, snapping Brad from his thoughts and alerting him to the fact that she was looking at him. He returned eye contact this time, posture considerably straighter than it was before.
"What do I call you? I don't even know your name."
The goth smirked, tilting her head to one side with fascination.
"Didi's good. Enjoy the party, Brad. I'll be around."
And just like that, she was gone. Melded into the crowd of partygoers like an expert, off to do who-knows-what. Brad, on the other hand, stood there, having no idea how to proceed in a scenario like this.
Now what?