Chapter Text
The worst universes Nathaniel saw were the ones where he was happy.
He watched as the shard— the alternate version of himself— swung his racquet forward and the goal lit up red. Seconds ticked down on the clock until they hit zero, and the fellow players in their orange jerseys crowded around Neil, because he chose a different name in this universe, with raucous cheers.
Other-Neil barely spared a moment for them, though. Instead, he jogged over to the goal where a short player in white was standing, his racquet slung across his shoulders. Nathaniel was too far away to see what was being said, but he couldn’t miss the way other-Andrew pulled other-Neil in, pressing their helmets together and holding onto the back of his neck.
The sight of it was so intimate, Nathaniel had to turn away.
Across universes, different shards of him were beaten, bruised, manipulated, abused, killed. But this was what hurt Nathaniel most of all: the proof that other versions of him escaped the lives that were set out for them, and yet Nathaniel was still plodding forward along the bloody footsteps in front of him.
It was too late for him. He had far too much blood on his hands.
When Nathaniel looked into the mirror, all he saw was red.
The Jumbotron pulled up an image of other-Neil, a vicious grin stretched across his face, so violently happy you could almost ignore the scars. And at his side, Andrew the goalie was looking at him, saying something that looked like idiot but could easily have been I love you.
The MTS on Nathaniel’s wrist beeped. Nathaniel ignored the tight feeling in his gut and pressed the side of the plain silver band. A voice flooded his ears.
“Didn’t I tell you not to dawdle?” Riko drawled.
Nathaniel kept his breaths even and steady.
“I have the item,” he said softly, aware of the fans around him. “I'll come back now.”
“Good pet.”
The line cut out. Nathaniel pressed a thumb against the small lump under his ear. Out of all the scars he had, this one was the worst. It was the leash that Riko pulled, making Nathaniel heel.
In this universe, other-Andrew had smashed other-Riko’s wrist and the man had killed himself.
In this universe, Andrew had saved Neil.
In his own universe, Nathaniel wasn’t anything worth saving.
He was a pet in a cage that was occasionally let out, and when he was— he was hunted. The hazel eyes that had looked at Neil so softly on the Jumbotron only moments ago were unrecognizable to the hazel eyes that Nathaniel was used to. The ones that looked at him exactly like what he was:
A monster.
Nathaniel plastered a piece of holo-paper on the wall on his way out of the stadium. The humans in the universe would see a random flyer that Nathaniel had coded, but the person who it was actually meant for would see: better luck catching me next time.
Nathaniel cast one last look at the giant stadium, for a sport called Exy that did not exist in his own universe.
And then he left, back to where he belonged.
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“This is not what the client asked for.”
The words sent nails scratching down Nathaniel’s spine. He kept his hands behind his back, digging one nail into the tender skin of his wrist.
“The retrieval was for an AutoMag pistol.”
Riko held the black gun in his hands. It was one of the smaller items Nathaniel had been sent to retrieve. As one of the few people whose bodies could withstand using an MTS— multiverse-travel system— Nathaniel was frequently sent to other universes to recover the blackmarket items that weren’t available in their own. Guns were outlawed decades ago, and so weapons were a frequently commissioned item. Nathaniel had retrieved all sorts of things, though— mint plants, animals long since extinct, brands of foods that didn't exist here.
“This is not an AutoMag,” Riko said, voice low and calm. “This is a Beretta.”
Nathaniel dug his nail in harder. He had done his research. But all pistols looked the same to him, like strangely-shaped machines. What did the type of pistol matter?
“I can go back.”
Riko set the gun down on the table beside him. “Come here, Nathaniel.”
He hated his own name. In every universe where he was happy, his name was Neil.
But in this one, he was Nathaniel.
“Nathaniel.” Riko’s tone sharpened. “Come here.”
He moved forward, keeping his hands behind his back. When Riko backhanded him, Nathaniel didn’t even flinch. That habit had been trained out of him years and years ago. Riko’s rings cut into the flesh of his cheek and Nathaniel could feel drops of blood dripping down. He wondered if they looked like tears. Crying was another habit Nathaniel had broken.
“Here,” Riko reached out, a handkerchief in his hands. Nathaniel took it and dabbed at his cheek. Riko brushed a thumb lightly over the place he had hit.
“I don’t like to treat you this way, Nathaniel. You know this, right?”
He thought of the news clip he had seen of other-Neil, saying other-Riko had daddy issues and mouthing off on live television. In this universe, Nathaniel dipped his head into a nod.
“If I’m unhappy, my brother is unhappy. You don’t want to see Ichirou unhappy, do you?”
Nathaniel couldn’t stop the way he tensed in fear. That fear was reflected back in Riko’s own eyes. Even monsters had monsters under their bed.
“Another mission.” Riko tapped the silver bands on their wrists together. A smooth, robotic voice flooded Nathaniel’s head, giving him the details of the mission. Despite himself, a shudder worked through his body.
“I know, pet. I’m sorry.” Riko brushed his cheek again, this time with a bit more force. “But you’ll be good, won’t you?”
Fuck off, other-Neil would have said.
“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. In this universe, Riko beat him black and blue. But in this universe, Riko was his only friend.
Riko smiled, sharp as a blade, and Neil configured his MTS for the next location.
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He returned hours later, and this time Nathaniel was permitted to go directly to his room. Fresh towels were waiting for him on the bed, a note on top. Good job, pet.
Nathaniel smoothed his hands over the towels. He left red bloodstains behind.
Most people thought those who could use the MTS only used it to travel to different universes, but that wasn’t the case. It was extremely useful to travel to different locations within a universe, getting you there in the blink of an eye as long as you knew where you were going. Nathaniel’s mission briefs always gave him an exact location.
Nathaniel picked up the towels and headed into the bathroom. Riko knew he always liked to take long showers, after.
He set them down on the sink and lifted his eyes.
Nathaniel had seen different versions of his face across so many different universes. Some had scars arcing through their eyebrows. Some had burns. Some wore dishwater-brown contacts. Some dyed their hair.
So many versions of his face, and yet he could never run from his own.
Curling red hair. Golden-tanned skin. Cold, icy eyes. Nathaniel’s face was unblemished, because that was how Ichirou liked him best.
When Nathaniel looked at himself, all he saw was a killer. He wondered if the other-Neils would hate him, and knew that they would.
He got into the shower and watched as the blood swirled around his feet.
Some things washed easily down the drain, and others stained you forever.