Meet Your Creator

by PayneandGlory

Summary:

Man was created in the eyes of God.

Monsters only know how to imitate.

Chapter 1: Ilsa

“These violent delights have violent ends.”- William Shakespeare. 

 

 

Her ears were ringing as she got to her feet. It was disorientating to be moving and not be able to hear the movement. The dust that hung in the air didn't help her distinguish what was happening either. But one sense was still working and she could smell mint.

The dust clogged her throat, covered her skin and burnt her eyes. It wasn't just dust, she realised but ash as well, blended together to form a blanket which when it cleared; made her want to lie down and never get back up again.

The floor was a constellation of broken, burnt and disfigured bodies. Smoking piles of flesh. 

She stood in the middle, the point of impact, like a meteor had hit the earth. 

She realised she was crying but the only sound she could register was the ringing in her ears. The last of the dust cleared and reddish glints caught the light which was filtering in from somewhere. She lifted her hand out to catch them before they settled amongst the destruction on the floor. 

In her hand were strands of red hair, she clutched them to her chest as if they were the only things keeping her tethered to the grim reality of the world.

As the ringing faded she registered the sound of sirens getting closer. The rush of people entering the room was abrupt and she suddenly wished that she was alone again. The noise was deafening. Everything sounded angry and corrosive. Several people noticed her standing in the middle of the room, yet nobody wanted to get any closer. Something about seeing a person standing amid a pile of death was unsettling. 

Eventually someone mustered the courage. She would have guessed that the man was in his 30’s. He had a slender face and narrow frame but what struck her most was his eyes. He had kind eyes and as soon as he spoke she knew that she would do anything if it meant she could stay next to him a little longer.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt at all?” The man asked. 

She shook her head. How could this man’s primary concern be her? When death surrounded them, the first thing that he had thought of was to help her. 

“Can you tell me your name?” He used one hand to support the bottom of his bag as he reached in to take out a small pen like object. He clicked it and a bright light shone from one end. He pointed it in her eyes and she squinted. 

“I don’t know.” Her own voice surprised her. It was quiet but melodic; surprisingly calm.

He clicked the light off and smiled at her. “That’s ok. You seem to be in a bit of shock and so it’s normal that you might not remember these things. Go over to that man-“ 

He pointed in the direction of where the doors of the basement would have been. There was a man standing there setting up a sheet on the floor wearing a uniform with bright green accents. 

“- And have him look you over. We’ll then have you identified and get your family to come and pick you up.” He moved away from her and her hand shot out to grab onto the sleeve of his uniform. He stopped short. 

“Can I stay with you? Please?” She didn’t know what was happening; how she had ended up there, or why she was completely unharmed, but the one bit of security she had found she wasn’t going to let go. 

So that’s how they carried on. The man, who introduced himself as Henry, worked to try and catalogue all of the bodies. Apart from her nobody else had survived, which as he noted was strange but due to the circumstances with her not being able to remember her name or any other details, was not uncommon. There were a dozen explanations for her appearance. She watched fascinated as Henry worked efficiently and effectively, but with no lack of compassion bagging and identifying all of the bodies. 

By the time Henry had finished, the sun was high in the sky and he looked exhausted. She still hadn’t remembered anything and so Henry took her back to the Compound. 

As he had explained on the drive back, he was the head of the medical service team and so had been granted a rather spacious place to live with his wife and two sons in the Compound. 

“I’m sure Isaac and Liam will like you. Although I still don’t have a name to introduce you by.” He had smiled then. She smiled back but kept silent. 

There was no reason to keep talking when she still didn’t have anything new to say. 

He talked easily, telling her about daily life at the compound and how new everything was to everyone working within the Task Force since Verity had become a semi-independent military governed city. He talked as if she should have prior knowledge of the politics of the region. She was in fact clueless, but he was easy to listen to so she kept quiet, slumped in her seat. 

After a while his talk became sporadic, and so he sang instead. In retrospect, his voice was average at best but to her it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. She sat up in her seat as he sang. He switched between songs with a jangly tune to slower melodic ones and back again. Each time smiling at her before singing a new one. 

 

§§§§§§§§§§

 

As she sat in the kitchen waiting for Henry to come back, she listened as he did his best to explain the appearance of the teenage girl to his wife in the living room. They spoke in hushed whispers but her hearing was so good she could hear them as well as if they were arguing next to her. 

“Lauren I didn’t know what else to do. She’s just a young girl with amnesia who has suffered through a very traumatic event. You have to cut her a little slack.” His voice was pleading and tired. 

“I get that sweetheart but you could just place her in the medical bay like everyone else.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with her-“

“You just said that she has amnesia.” 

“Physically I mean. All the medical bays will be swamped with the bodies that they have to identify and burn. Plus the recent increase in monster attacks means that even if she was transferred, she still might not be seen to. It could be a month before someone got round to dealing with her.”

“Sweetheart that’s not your responsibility… You’re the head of the Task Force’s medical team. You can’t take in every lost child in a tragedy. I know that your empathy for these people is how you manage to do this job but sometimes I worry that it’s going to be the death of you.”

“It will only be temporary. Once she’s been identified and her family have been contacted, she’ll be gone.”

He went quiet and she strained to hear his words

“I can’t turn my back on her.”

Lauren sighed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His voice was muffled and she could imagine that Lauren had her arms around the man in a tight embrace. “Will you trust me?”

“I’ll do my best… Where is she?” 

“In the kitchen.” 

“I guess I had better introduce myself then.” She heard the woman leave and approach the kitchen so she tried to straighten herself into a position that didn't make it seem she had heard everything they had been saying. 

Lauren came into the kitchen and immediately put the kettle on. Then turned to face the girl. Lauren was beautiful, she had curling brown hair and a creamy caramel skin. Her uniform was less crumpled than her husbands and she sighed almost every time before she spoke.

“I’m Lauren.” 

“Hi.” 

“Henry told me you don’t remember your name. Is there anything we can use temporarily?” 

She stared at the woman. Nothing sprung to mind but something about the woman’s expression desperately made her want to give her an answer.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know.” 

Lauren turned around to pour herself a cup of tea but not before the girl had caught the disappointed expression on her face. 

The silence was interrupted by the arrival of two boys. Both were yelling at each other and the noise made her want to cover her ears but she resisted .

“Mum! He took it from me again!” 

“That’s not fair Isaac, you said I could play with it but then hit me!” 

“That’s not true!”  

More screaming ensued until Lauren silenced them both.

She took in the appearance of both of the boys. One had a mop of hair that curled around his ears and the other had shorter hair; buzzed at the sides and back but the same curling mop dipped into his vision. They both had slender faces like their father and brown skin like their mother.

“The two of you are not supposed to be in here.” Lauren barked 

“He took my stethoscope.” The one with the mop of hair whined.

Lauren’s gaze turned to the other child. “He said I could play with it.”

Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose and the girl's heart went out to the woman. Today seemed to be very trying for her. 

“I’m Liam. Who are you?” She jerked involuntarily at being addressed so abruptly. She turned to see an inquisitive look on Liam's face.

She couldn’t help but smile in response.

“I don’t know. Your dad brought me here because I don’t remember anything.” 

“Are you a patient?” The other inquired. His gaze was less direct, fixed on something just past her head. 

“Kind of. I was at the Hotel Allsway.”  

“Where that explosion happened?” 

“Isaac.” Lauren interrupted, addressing the boy. “Who told you that?”

“I heard one of the patrol guards talking over the radio.” Isaac said. “I’m sorry.”

“It must have been scary.” Liam said, climbing up onto one of the stools. 

“It was.” Images of the massacre flashed behind her eyes. A rush of sight, smell and fear rose up faster than she thought possible. Then, through the images, she could  hear Henry singing. It wasn’t coming from inside the apartment she was sure. But inside her head, the singing continued; erasing the images of the massacre from her mind.

“But your father was there. He looked after me and brought me here.” She met Lauren’s eyes. “He was so kind, there were so many other things he should have been concentrating on. So much work to be done and yet he let me stay with him. It couldn’t have been easy with me around but he did it anyway because he could tell I was scared.” 

She turned to both boys. “Your father is a kind and gentle man and you’re lucky to have him.”

“Dad is the best.” Liam replied and Isaac nodded in agreement. “Everyone loves him. It’s hard not to.” 

“Both of you go and finish your errands.” Lauren said. As they left the kitchen she called after them “And no more fighting over the stethoscope.” she shook her head and took a long sip of tea, a smile lingering on her face.

“They’re sweet kids.” She said.

“Yeah, they are. They mean the world to Henry and I.”

Despite Lauren’s gentle tone, she got the feeling that her words were a warning somehow. This woman would fight everyone and everything to protect her family. There was a sure, steadfast look to the woman. She reminded her of Henry, or maybe Henry reminded her of Lauren.

“You can stay until you get your memories back. Or until someone comes looking for you.” Lauren said.

“Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. I owe you so much.” 

“Did you mean what you said about Henry?”

“Yes. That basement was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. But despite everything Henry made me feel safe. There’s something special about a person who can make the world seem a little better just by being there and I would like to; if possible; hold onto that for as long as I can.” 

Lauren nodded and then laughed lightly “If you stay here. There will be a lot scarier things to see."

She shot her a questioning look.  

“You haven’t seen the boys at dinner time.” 

The two of them laughed together. 

 

§§§§§§§§§§§§

 

Ilsa still had those strands of hair wrapped in a piece of velvet. 

Later she would learn from Henry about 19- year-old Christina who worked at the Hotel Allsway as a maid. How she and dozens of other guests and staff had barricaded themselves into the basement of the hotel in a futile attempt to try and stop the monsters. But unbeknownst to the rest of the escapees, Christina had a bomb on her. Made from some cleaning materials; Christina had fashioned it as a mercy to herself and the others.

Ilsa had done some investigating of her own on her predecessor after Henry told her the facts of the night. Christina wasn’t the only member of her family to die that night. With her had been her 10-year old brother Connor. The two had been recently orphaned in a monster attack that had killed their parents. This had driven Christina to tipping point unable to bear the thought of her brother suffering the same fate as their parents. 

It was merciful in some ways, and devastating in all others.

Ilsa pulled up a picture on her tablet which showed Christina a couple months before her death, arm wrapped around her younger brother. Matching smiles and red hair. 

Henry needn’t have brought her in, or kept her safe. He had given her so much: a new name when she found that her old one no longer fit her; he had allowed her into his home and family, but most of all he had made her feel safe. Everything good in the world, Ilsa associated with Henry.  

Her discovery of her own monstrosity and creation was horrific but unchangeable, so when Ilsa finally knew the truth she made peace with it. 

Ilsa's monster was merciful, and she was grateful at the form she had taken. 

 

Chapter 2: Leo

“What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created?” -Robert F. Kennedy. 

 

 

 

He blinked and the first thing he saw was the sky. It was a peaceful blue and oddly calming.

If not for all the screaming.

He hoped it was inside his head but as he continued to lie there, the screams rang louder until they threatened to make his head explode. When the screams had reached a crescendo, he raised his head off of the floor and understood why.

Around him were twisted bodies, lying at distorted angles like a terrible jigsaw puzzle. Broken glass was everywhere and for the first time he recognised the sound of a car siren going off.

Slowly he climbed to his feet and saw that several bodies had crushed a parked car on the sidewalk. The force had been enough to shower the scene in glass and blood was running over the hood, seeping downwards to join the rest of the carnage.

One of the bodies eyes were still open. The same colour as the pale blue sky above them, their neck was broken at such an angle that from the top of the car they surveyed the massacre before them. Arms stretched wide as if to embrace the death.

This body above all others called to him; he could have stared into the dead eyes for hours but the screams were too much so he wrenched his gaze away and fled the scene.

In his mind he could still see the body: pale skin, dotted with blood, blond hair and broad shoulders. He looked like a leader, even in death.

That night he huddled in a doorway, listening to the persistent sounds of sirens and voices. Then, above it all, he heard something thin and reedy. It wasn’t loud and yet the noise carried. It was beautiful; a symphony of sound that made everything else disappear. He was desperate to find it, to see where such a striking noise could exist in the world he had woken up in.

Eventually he found the source. It came from a battered radio lying close to a sleeping man. The blend of sounds that came from the radio kept him transfixed into the early hours of the morning until the sleeping man woke up.

“What the hell are you doing?!” The man yelled, sitting up in alarm

His presence had clearly startled the man, he could hear his heartbeat over the noise of the radio. Yet he made no move to calm or reassure the man, he felt no need. He had done nothing wrong.

“Fuck off outta here!”

The man made an attempt at a punch to the side of his head which he easily avoided but inadvertently knocked the radio over. Then, easy as anything, he wrapped his hand around the mans throat. The man struggled only for a few seconds, enough time to note the rise of red light rush through the man’s skin and into his own.
Then he was dead.

The radio was silenced and gone with it the peace and calm he had found. With a dejected feeling he stood up and left the dead man.

He let his mind and feet wander until he was back at the accident site. The numerous bodies had been cleared and what was left looked like a puzzle with the middle pieces all missing. Blood still dripped off the hood of a car and there were shoes and jewellery scattered amongst the broken glass.

Despite the early hour there were still men working to clear the rest of the debris away. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a man who stood a couple inches taller than him, wearing a plainer version of the uniforms of the men clearing away the scene. His hair was greying at the sides and there were deep circles under his eyes, but he smiled as Leo turned to look at him.

“Terrible what happened here.” The man’s voice was warm but hoarse, as if he was using it for the first time in a while.

He just nodded. In truth he didn’t quite know what had happened, except for the fact that he had woken up in the middle of it.

“How many of them were there?” His own voice surprised him. It was deep and smooth.

“Fifty four. All members of some kind of cult.”

He took some time to think over the information. He had awoken amongst members of a dead cult. What did he have to do with anyone like that?

The confusion on his face must have been apparent because the man placed his hand back on his shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“This early in the morning you look like you might need some coffee. Come with me.”

§§§§§§§§§§§

Sometime later he sat in a single chair in the middle of a completely empty space. The entire floor was just two rooms. He sat in the one furthest from the lift they had arrived in. The wall was divided in half by glass so the person in the room could see the rest of the floor, but apart from that there was just his chair, a matching one sat on the other side of the metal table and him. The man told him he would be back soon and got back into the lift.

Truth be told he had found the space calming. It was painted completely white and the metal chair underneath him felt reassuringly sturdy. He could feel the cold of the chair seep up through the material of his clothes. The door to the room had been left open and even if it hadn’t he reckoned that he would still be able to hear everything that went on in the Compound.

It was a ruckus and in order to shut it out; he thought of the reediness of the radio he had found. How the sounds that came out of it blended together in such a way that it seemed like it came from everywhere and nowhere.

The noise of the lift coming back down distracted him out of his reverie and he expected to see the man come out but instead he saw a young woman approach the room, strawberry blonde hair piled up on top of her head and a rather annoyed expression on her face.

He was surprised to see that her feet were bare. She was wearing the same army fatigues as everyone else, full length sleeves and trousers but her feet were pale underneath the dark grey of the uniform.

She was intimidating, walking towards the room as if she knew her true place in the world and the power she had in it. Instinctively he sat up straighter in his chair.

“You picked a terrible time to make an appearance.” Her voice had a rounded edge to it and was almost as beautiful as the sounds from the radio.

“I’m sorry.”

She blew out a breath before sitting on the floor at the side of the room. A moment later he heard the lift coming back down and the man who had brought him here stepped out. He was frowning as he spoke angrily into a radio.

“Send out Squad Five but tell them not to advance until I get there.”

“We need you here now, Sir.”

“I’m busy.”

He stopped short as he saw that he had an audience. If at all possible his face got greyer as he saw the woman sat on the floor. He entered the room and sat in the chair, turning the crackle of the radio to barely more than a whisper.

“I’m Henry. This is Ilsa.” He gestured to the woman

“It’s nice to meet you.” He kept his voice polite but there was something about the tension in the room that set him on edge. He had clearly walked into a situation in which neither of them wanted him here, but he seemed to be important enough that they were stuck with him. He just wished he knew why.

“You don’t have to be here right now Henry.” Ilsa’s voice was soft.

“It’s this or the Malchai hostage situation in the north. ” Henry threw Ilsa an appreciative but tired smile. “I think I would rather be here.”

“I’m sorry I’ve caused you such trouble. I’ve lost my memories and I appreciate the help but I don’t need this much attention. Especially from someone who clearly has other things to do.” He tried to make his voice seem sincere but all it did was invoke a laugh from the two of them.

“You’re more important than you realise.” Ilsa replied, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Have you found your beautiful sound yet?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The noise that makes you feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.” She said it so matter of factly he was still trying to process her words. “Have you found it?”

“I heard noises… They…They came out of a radio? I think?- But I don’t understand- I don’t know what has that got to do with anything?”

Ilsa smiled. A genuine look of happiness. “I heard Henry singing. He sang the entire way home from the hotel to the compound. I’d never heard anything prettier.”

Henry said nothing, his unenthusiasm hung heavy in the air.

This caused the smile to droop off Ilsa’s face and she stood up, took a breath, and started to sing.

The noise that came out of her mouth was indistinguishable and yet incredibly pronounced at the same time. Her voice held an ethereal nature to it that spoke of worlds he didn’t recognise and memories that he didn’t own. It was almost as beautiful as the radio.

Slowly he realised that Ilsa’s voice was having an effect on Henry. A glazed look had overcome him and his face hang slack with a careless happiness. This was the most relaxed he had seen the man. The circles under his eyes were less pronounced, his eyes shone and his shoulders unfurled.

Ilsa stopped singing, but the slack expression on Henry’s face remained.

Then without prompt, he spoke. “I miss them so much. I agreed to this job because I knew I would be helping people, but all I want is to have them back. I’d give up everything and everyone to have them here with me.”

He stared at Henry in shock, the previous calm on the man’s face had been replaced by indistinguishable sadness. The transformation was disturbing.

Ilsa’s face was set into a hard line. “This is what you are.”

He stared at her.

“Your sound. When you learn how, you can use it to control people. Ordinary people, but not us.”

“Us?”

“We are monsters. You and I. Created from death.”

“What did you do to him?”

“I gave him a brief moment of peace.” She turned her head away from him and he noticed something shining on her face. “The guilty ones, they’ll confess their crimes to you. That’s how you’ll know they’re bad.”

Only then did he notice the light that seemed to be shining from Henry’s skin. Blending in with the white of the room it was almost impossible to see. “That’s how you’ll learn the difference between the monsters and the humans.”

“There are others that look like us?”

“In a way every monster can look human if they want. We are able to tell the difference.”

He remembered the way the man in the alley way’s light had been crimson, his voice muted before he had silenced him forever.

For the first time since waking up to screaming, the world was finally beginning to make sense. This was why he was here.

“What did you mean I picked a terrible time?” He asked

“Henry has just been appointed Leader of the Task Force.” She motioned to her sewn on badge on her uniform which bore a shield with a T and F in red letters. “It’s in a state of disarray since the other cities have effectively closed it’s borders. Now more than ever, we need a strong leader.”

“Why not Henry?”

“Henry just lost his family to a Corsai attack in the underground subway lines.” He could hear the barely restrained emotion she was keeping from her voice.

“So why not you?”

For the first time Ilsa looked uncomfortable. “Because the task force needs a leader who’s mind and body can stay in one place.”

Her response was confusing but he dismissed it. In time, everything would be explained.

He knew he wasn’t a leader yet. But in time, when the world made more sense and he could use his power the way Ilsa had, he knew he would be the person to make sense of the chaos. It seemed he had turned up at just the right time.

Henry seemed to wake up. He blinked and all at once was back to the man he had been before Ilsa’s singing.

“I don’t like it when you do that.” He grumbled. Ilsa put a hand on his shoulder and exited the floor.

“I want to stay and help you find the monsters.” He said. Surprise and then suspicion crossed Henry’s face.

“What did Ilsa tell you?”

“That you need me. She’s the only one you have that can tell the difference between monsters and everyone else, yes?”

“She told you that you are the same as her.”

“I want to help. You need me.” He emphasised the words and Henry took one long look at his face before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Nobody will force you to stay here if you don’t want to. Ilsa is powerful but she can’t control you. You are free to come and go as you please.”

“I understand.” He smiled.

Henry smiled back and offered his hand to him. They shook.

“I look forward to working with you.” He said. He meant it.

 

§§§§§§§§§§§§

All those years later Leo still kept a radio in his room. It was missing a battery from the fight in the alley way but Leo had never made any attempt to replace it. He never wanted to hear anything that tarnished his memory of that perfect sound the night he was brought into the world.

He never felt the need to read up on the way the world had been before the phenomenon that brought monsters into the world. The only news article he had read from before his time was the one that described the mass suicide led by a man named George Holtz, aged 39.

Holtz was the leader of a religious doomsday cult. A cult whose teachings foretold unholy monsters ravishing the land days before the apocalypse. Holtz, a man faithful to the letter, dragged his wife and young son to the top of a roof of a building, along with the members and families of his following; 54 bodies in total, that had littered the street the night Leo had come into the world.

In a way George Holtz had saved his entire following from a death potentially more savage than they deserved. He had led them to their deaths but also towards their salvation as they no longer had to be part of such an ugly world.

The man’s good looks were evident, even in the grainy newspaper photo. They shared the same broad shoulders, confident gait along and blond hair. Except that George Holtz’s eyes were blue, whilst Leo knew that if his photo was taken; they would be a pitiless black.

Leo’s monster had been dutiful, and Leo was proud to have taken this one’s shape.

Chapter 3: August

 

When Liberty comes with hands dabbled in blood, it becomes hard to shake hands with her- Oscar Wilde

 

 

 

When he woke, it was quiet. He could hear voices, but they were muffled, as if smothered. He turned his head to meet the eyes of a body. Or at least, it would have been a body had half the face not been completely gone, a mess of bone and brains filling the crater which should have been a head. 

The only part that distinguished it as being a person was the silvery eye and dark hair matted with blood. 

He rushed to his feet with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest. Around him were bodies, some like the body next to him sat in their pools of blood, others had been bagged and were black lines stark against the white linoleum floor. Tallies of the dead. 

As his heart raced he took in his surroundings. It was a cafeteria of a school, except there were no children, just grim faced adults standing around counting and bagging up children in uniforms. The muffled sound, he realised, wasn’t his imagination. The sound really was stifled. Nothing could get through the thickness of the atmosphere, it swallowed up everything that dared make noise before it could reach his ears. 

Eventually one of the grim faced adults noticed him. 

"Oh God, where did you come from?" The woman had brown hair threaded with grey and was wearing scrubs that were smeared with blood.

She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and escorted him to another room, doing her best to shield him from the massacre.

She needn't have bothered, those lines were forever burned into his memory. 

The woman sat him down on a bench and offered him orange juice. It tasted like ash but he swallowed it down anyway. She introduced herself as Philippa and asked how to contact his parents or if there was any staff he wanted to talk to. 

He didn’t know how to respond to any of the questions. 

“He’s in shock.” Said one of the official looking adults. The man had a badge sewn to the front of his uniform with the letters FTF on it. He looked wary and his gaze shifted quickly to the floor once he realised he had been caught staring. The man left the room and he was left alone with Phillipa. 

The room was small and filled with instruments. Their textures caught his eye, the shiny brass, smooth ivory and slender strings. His hands itched to touch them. 

Phillipa did her best to reassure him that it would be ok, and that they would be in contact with his parents soon. Someone would come and get him. Dimly, he wondered if there was a reason this woman was lying to him so confidently. 

Beyond his little room, he registered that his appearance was causing quite a stir. There were raised voices, a crackle of a radio, and Phillipa raised her voice to try and cover the sounds of the commotion, but his focus was fixed on everything except what was happening before him. The sounds of the world beyond was ten times louder than anything whispered comfortingly in his ear. 

Tyres crunching, boots squeaking. And amongst them all, another voice called out, deafeningly calm and direct. Cutting through the muffled fog. 

“The child found in the cafeteria, where is he?” 

“Sir, we haven’t counted all the bodies-”

“No, the child who woke up, where is he?”

“He- I believe he was taken in there sir.”

Waiting for the owner of the calm voice to find him, he listened for the signs that he was coming closer and heard nothing. Compared to everyone else, this man was silent. Of course there were still sounds that even he couldn’t mask, the brush of his clothes, the squeak of his boots. But the fact that he was aware of it, moving in a way to reduce the noises he was making; unnerved him almost as much as the half faced boy had.  

Philippa squeezed his shoulder, he must have gasped or squirmed under her grasp. Moments later the door opened and a soldier, armed with a gun and full uniform beckoned her out of the room. Another moment later the silent man entered. 

The man looked down upon him. Tall, broad shouldered and blonde; he would make his presence known whether people liked it or not.  

“My name is Leo. I’m the leader of the Flynn Task Force.” His gaze drifted over him only once and he wanted to make himself smaller, sink down into the bench. 

“Hello.”

His own voice was soft in comparison. 

“You are going to be important Sunai. Harker will never see you coming.” 

He looked up to see that Leo wasn’t even looking at him. Grim pleasure streaked his face as he gazed down on the school grounds. 

“Is that my name?”

Leo turned to look at him with affront. 

“No. A Sunai is what you are, who you are. Names…you can choose that for yourself; in time.”

It did nothing to quell the worry that had started in his stomach and radiated outwards. But he did his best to suppress it. Who could be worried with someone like Leo taking charge?

 

§§§§§§

 

The room that he was led to was large and open. With a view across the city that seemed to be wide awake despite the hour. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

Like the city, the compound never quietened. Noise was was vibrant as colour and there was plenty of both. There were constant patrols being swapped out on night watch as well as soldiers dispatched for Machai and Corsai attacks. Everything felt fake, intangible. The words he had learnt just hours ago already felt old and brittle in his mind. He had accepted everything Leo had told him without question, he knew they had to be true. There was no other explanation for the events that had happened in the mere few hours he had been alive and yet, there was a small voice he heard at the back of the mind that screamed why? How could this-

Someone approached his door. Someone with the same awareness of sound as Leo.  He waited and just as silently they slipped inside and shut the door behind them. Smiling once she knew she was being watched. 

“My name is Ilsa.”

“You’re like me.” 

She nodded once. Sitting across from him on the bed he noted her hair, strewn around her face like strands of fire; her dress, which flowed around her body like liquid and most importantly her stars, which were scattered across her arms and chest like constellations in a night sky. 

“I am Sunai. But we are as different as humans can be.”

“What does that mean?” 

“Each of the humans have differences, but underneath their skins, inside their minds… they are the same. They are loud and abrasive and beautiful.”

For the first time he noticed Ilsa’s presence. Unlike Leo’s which was steadfast and reassured, Ilsa’s wavered. It wasn’t much, wasn’t noticeable if you weren’t listening. But underneath her words, her sound was as fragmented as the stars across her shoulders. 

“Leo said they are vulnerable and they need us to help. He said I was here for a reason.”

Ilsa winced and then looked sad. “Our brother likes to think that.” 

Our brother. 

“I don’t understand... Ilsa? What does Leo want me to do? He’s told me I’m important but hasn’t explained what for.” 

“Leo… Leo wants many things… But he doesn’t often get what he wants.”

“He seems like he he could get whatever he wants.”

“There were only two of us before today. Sunai are rare.” Ilsa’s voice was stronger, more confident. 

“Does that mean we’re special?”

“Is that how I feel?” In shock he studied Ilsa to realise that something was missing from her expression. An emptiness that wasn’t there before had taken over and it was startling to see that change. Distinct but eerie. 

“Ilsa-“

He stopped short as he watched another star burn itself onto her shoulder. As the mark faded to black Ilsa spoke. 

“Have you found your beautiful sound yet?”

“My what?”

“Hopefully, sometime soon, you will hear something that is will make everything else fall away. It will be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. When you hear it, everything else will be forgotten and you will be closer to finding out your importance.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“Mine was Henry...” He could see the joy on her face. Unlike Leo’s grim pleasure it was a genuine look of delight and he felt hopeful. “…He sang and everything else fell away- he didn’t make me feel like I was a monster.” 

The delight on her face set off a yearning in his stomach that was a complete opposite to the worry he had felt earlier. If this beautiful sound could make someone look this happy then maybe it would not be so bad being a Sunai. Whatever that meant. 

Ilsa cupped his face in her hands. Each palm was burning hot. “You will be fine little Sunai.” She whispered and then left the room like a gasp. 

 

§§§§§§§§§

 

Leo and Henry were waiting on the other side. She knew they were there but still stopped short at their appearance. 

Henry gave her a tired smile and she nodded back at him. He went into the room and shut the door after himself. Leaving Ilsa alone in the hall with Leo. She gave Leo the same nod as Henry and he smiled the smile she had grown to both love and hate. 

When she spoke she kept her voice so low it was almost undetectable beneath the rest of the noise. 

“He is as strange to us as you find humans.”

“He is a Sunai. Whether he likes it or not, he is one of us.” Leo replied, voice equally as low.

“That's not what I meant.”

Leo made to stop her, but she slid out of reach and disappeared. 

 

§§§§§§§§§§

 

The door opened moments after Ilsa left and a tall man with greying hair and a faded FTF uniform stepped inside. This man, he was sure was human. 

“I’m Henry.” 

“Hello.” 

Henry wandered over to his side of the bed and knelt down in front of him. Like Ilsa, he met with Henry on his own eye level. 

“I know things are very confusing for you, but I wanted to introduce myself properly. My name is Henry Flynn.” 

Immediately his eyes dropped down to the badge on the front of Henry’s uniform. 

“Yes…” Henry answered his unspoken question. “I am the chief medical officer of the Flynn Task Force. The leader of the Force is Leo Flynn, who you’ve met.” 

“You’re human.” 

“I am. So is my wife Emily.” He nodded. “We are somewhat, guardians of Sunai, because you are different from the other monsters in Verity. Leo leads the Task Force because I asked him to. I look after Sunai because I choose to. And I’ll only ask you to stay here if you want to.” 

It took a minute for Henry’s words to sink in. This was the first time since he had awakened in that miserable cafeteria that someone had presented him with a choice. Leo had made his existence seem like a responsibility, Ilsa presented it as a twisted curse. But Henry offered him sanctuary and kindness because to him, he didn’t see him as anything other than a person. 

He stared at the man for longer than he knew to be polite but Henry never dropped his gaze. 

“I don’t have to stay?”

“You don’t need the protection of anyone. But you can stay here in the compound, if that’s what you want.” 

He did want. He wanted to live up to whatever it was that Leo saw in him. He wanted to find the happiness in Ilsa’s eyes when she spoke about her beautiful sound. He wanted to hung Henry, who was the only person who seemed to understand what he was going through despite being human. 

“I would like that.” He said. 

“Good.” Henry stood to his full height. “You can stay in this room tonight. Everything else can come later. The worlds a little muffled for you right now, but I hope eventually, it will sound clearer.” 

“Me too."

 

§§§§§§§§§§§§§

 

August’s hand wandered over the strings of the violin. The first thing that sounded beautiful in the world had been right in front of him when he had awoken, untouched until August made his claim. The instrument was propped neatly up against the ruined piano in the small music room off the side of the cafeteria. The same place it had been the first time he had ever seen it. 

The school had been shut down for years now. Safety took precedence over education this side of the wall. 

He wasn’t meant to wander off from the group. But he had asked Leo to come here for months and he wasn’t going to squander the opportunity. 

Leaving the violin in its place he shifted the piano bench to where it had been when he had sat on it almost four years ago and sat down. He had hoped that coming back here would fill him with some sort of wisdom that he had been sorely missing. He knew so much more about Sunai and the world than he had when he’d awoken but things were still just as muffled and confusing.

August gathered his violin and walked out of the music room and into the centre of the cafeteria. There were rust coloured stains just visible beneath the dirt on the floor. One of them belonged to that dead child with half a face, but August couldn’t remember which. 

He had tried to look into the shooting that had led to his creation before he came here but there was nothing on record. There hadn’t been a positive ID on the body and nobody had come forward to claim them. The sad, angry, selfish child who had killed 16 children and 4 adults would never be remembered. Not even by the monster who wore his face. 

August’s monster was cowardly, and it would be years until he would forgive himself for taking his form. 

Notes:

I've had this in my drafts for so long. For some reason because there was so much about August's creation, it became impossible to finish this.

Hope you've enjoyed.

Notes:

This work stemmed entirely from an idea that the Sunai look like those that caused the violence that created them.

Hope you enjoyed.