#risa ward series
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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Seventeen: Returning the Favor
Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.
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Connor Lassiter stares at Death. Death stares back at Connor Lassiter.
Dorian Heartland is not an easy man to look at. Connor doesn’t like doing it, but taking his eyes off of this infernal creator for even one moment could offer Heartland a chance to take Connor’s pupils for his own, so he refuses to budge his gaze even one millimeter.
All this does, though, is to give Connor a good look at everything that makes Heartland so horrifically wrong. He can see in the stiffness of Risa’s posture, the flightiness of her breath, that she’s caught on to who this is too, although by this point that would almost be impossible to avoid. Dorian Heartland is like no other man Connor has ever met before, though that might be because Dorian Heartland is no longer made up of any of his original birth parts, nor the secondary parts that replaced him, nor the ones that swapped him out after that. Connor can’t even begin to fathom what iteration of lungs he must have inside someone else’s ribcage– is the fourth generation of blood pumping through his veins, perhaps? The fifth?
Connor wonders what parts Heartland will take from Connor as some sort of grisly hunting trophy. The eyes, maybe. Everyone likes the eyes. Snatching his heart would be a particularly satisfying touch, too. If Connor wasn’t so disgusted by the idea of harvesting someone else’s bits and pieces to keep himself intact, maybe he, too, could see the allure in holding Heartland’s brain in his head, clenching the pink matter between his knuckles and knowing that someone else’s entire life and soul was in his hands.
Well. His and Roland’s. Connor is no better than this grave robber. Even though the switching out of arms was unintentional, Connor still bears the limb and tattoo of another teenager. Does that make him any closer to Heartland? Will it spare him from Heartland’s punishment? No and no, but it does paint a rather more confusing portrait. It would be easier if Connor were totally blameless, of course, but no one in this galaxy ever is. The same chain that breaks our wrists will help us up one day, and then it will kill our best friend and worst enemy in turn. All Connor can do is hope to stay alive, but even now, that seems like one last possibility that’s slipped out of his reach.
Heartland smiles indulgently, taking in the startled looks on their faces. “Now, now. Don’t give yourselves an aneurysm trying to figure out how I tracked you down. I need all of your brain matter to be as functional as possible. You won’t believe the number of potential buyers who have been contacting me in the hopes of getting a piece from the two of you.”
“I’m trying extra hard now,” Connor says dryly.
Heartland has the nerve to roll his eyes like a petulant teenager. Connor wonders if that motion is uniquely Dorian, or if it’s from an actual AWOL who’s still not past his rebellious teenager phase even if he’s landed in the body of someone like Heartland. Regardless, the sudden movement makes Heartland’s whole face bulge unevenly as different sections of skin resist tension with varying rates of success, old and young parts making themselves known. For a moment, Connor swears he can see every piece of Heartland for what it is, can map every seam and stitch, and then the man’s face returns to neutral again and the effect is undone.
“Don’t be sulky, Connor, it does you no good.” Heartland admonishes him.
Connor folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, so you’re going to lecture me before you rip off my limbs? How charitable of you.”
“I’m not ripping off your limbs, that would be my expert team of surgeons,” Heartland clarifies. “Besides, ripping is entirely too gory of a description. Distribution is a perfectly reasonable procedure. The galaxy has ensured that it’s completely scientific, with as little pain to the distributes as possible. You simply must get your mind out of the gutter. Speak elegantly or don’t speak at all, Connor. I don’t want that tongue to be corrupted more than necessary.”
Beside him, Risa narrows her eyes at the man. “Was that little flower bed over there produced in the name of elegant speech, or did you just want an excuse for other people to talk about unwinding without putting words in your mouth?”
She jerks her chin towards a display somewhere beyond them. Connor thinks he remembers her coming from that direction when she’d run over to tell him that they had been caught. He wishes fleetingly that he had been closer, that he’d never suggested splitting up at all, that they had just put themselves first like every other soul in the galaxy seems wont to do, but the dreams evaporate in time, leaving him only the stark reality of having been caught in the pointless effort of trying to save lives.
Heartland chuckles, evidently remembering what Risa’s talking about. “Oh yes, the flowers. The last band of upstarts had the same reaction. I love it when we’re all on one page.”
Connor frowns, wondering if some other group of runaway unwinds had made it here before them to be the ‘band of upstarts’ Heartland referred to. He hadn’t seen anyone in the airspace above them when he landed, and certainly Connor would have heard if someone sprung Heartland’s trap a few standard hours ago, but then it occurs to him that Heartland isn’t mentioning events earlier that day at all.
No, Heartland is recollecting the last group of kids who tried to act as heroes for the galaxy. Connor hasn’t heard of any in a while, but even without the Collective’s propensity for propaganda whitewashing everything into blank silence, the last batch of would-be saviors would have been around decades ago. Heartland could be referring to infinite rounds of kids who didn’t want to die, all stretching back for centuries.
How many unwinds have stood in this exact spot? How many generations of children have tried to kill off Heartland or his policies but failed? Connor and Risa are far from the first, nor, judging by the fact that they’ve already been caught, will they be the last. This cycle will go on forever, as surely as a thousand suns rise and set across the galaxy, as certainly as the never ending rotation of fresh organs from the body of a child into the frame of an adult. Teenagers will rise out of obscurity, challenge the notion that the young should die for the wastefulness of the old, and then they will be struck down all because one man has cheated them of their last resource: time.
Of course Dorian Heartland wins every round. He has the luxury of knowing the full story every time. Heartland knows how the rebellions start, so he can crush them in their infancy. He knows how the last stragglers turn into martyrs, so he can lay expert traps and avoid their attempts to save their friends. Starkey’s little attack may have caught him off-guard, and Connor may have been able to run from him once, but now Heartland has had time to consider their strategies and plan accordingly. Dozens of Connors have tried to make a stand, and Heartland has killed them every time. What is Connor now but one more replacement? Heartland is swapping out another one of his parts: the rebel, the fighter, the loose end in his plans. He’s done it before. He’ll do it again.
Connor feels his stomach roll, low and heavy. He wants to scream and scream until the sickness leaves his body and goes into Heartland, until Dorian Heartland of old-Earth and always having enough remembers what it’s like to crave survival more than anything else.
Instead, he rocks back and forth on his heels twice, trying to force himself to stay under control. He’s got to stall so he has time to plan. Connor can hear slight rustling on the paths surrounding them. The other park visitors are conspicuously not looking their way, leading him to believe that they’ve been planted here to alert Heartland to their eventual presence without tipping off Connor and Risa that anything was wrong. That means everyone here will try to stop them if they run, plus more soldiers are likely on the way. There’s a clear opening somewhere behind Heartland, a path out of the park and into the surrounding streets, but they’d have to get past Heartland first.
In order to give himself an opportunity to conjure up an escape plan, though, Connor needs what he has always lacked: more time. He stares at Heartland, and asks, “How did you find us, then? Did you put a tracker in my blood while you had me in your hospital?”
Heartland scoffs. “And risk damaging the product like that? Certainly not. I will admit, you had me worried when you threw yourself from the window, but as it turns out, I didn’t have to worry. You wanted yourself intact as much as I did.”
Risa scowls protectively. “Don’t act as if you cared about his survival. You just want his pieces.”
Heartland turns to her with an affronted stare. Immediately, Connor wants to say something stupid so the man will focus on him instead. Nothing good comes of Heartland’s gaze, Connor can say that for certain.
“Oh, and you care so much more? Risa Megan Ward, abandoned to a State Home when you were a child. You value the Akron AWOL more than I do? Not just because his survival ensures that you’ll end up alive?”
Risa meets his gaze coolly. “You’re wrong,” she says simply. “I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you. Connor trusts me and I trust him.”
Her expression is completely certain, but Connor swears he still sees her relax microscopically when he adds on, “You can’t turn us against each other, Heartland. Save your tricks for someone who cares.”
Heartland just shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many battle-scarred partners in survival will abandon each other for the opportunity to live. It’s worked before.”
Not for us, Connor thinks decisively. Like every other AWOL before him, he believes at once that the two of them will be the first to actually make it work.
Dorian Heartland ignores this, unaware or perhaps simply not caring that yet another round of teenagers believes that they can save themselves. He’s seen it often enough that it probably doesn’t even register. “No, Connor, I couldn’t track you. I simply had to lay a trap. I was going to ransom your friends from the Graveyard so you’d come to me, but you beat me to it.”
Connor realizes he’s referring to the massacre at the harvest colony. “That wasn’t us,” he blurts out before registering belatedly that he probably shouldn’t give away more than Heartland expressly tells him.
Heartland, however, doesn’t seem surprised by this. “Oh, I know. My men arrived perhaps a few standard hours after you left. They checked the security holos and saw both the attack and your shocked reaction. I must admit, however, that I already guessed it wasn’t you. You two didn’t seem the type for tasteless bloodshed.”
“As opposed to the tasteful bloodshed of unwinding?” Connor fires back. He can see Risa eyeing the exits as well. She’s always been good at planning; so long as he keeps Heartland talking, he gives her more chances to save them. If there’s one thing Connor can do, though, it’s talk. This is fine. It has to be.
Heartland sighs. “You must let go of this unnatural fear of yours, Connor,” he chides. “You don’t run around screaming at cosmic pilots for transcending humanity by exposing people to the horrors of spaceflight, do you? Even though the risks from accidentally entering a wormhole or dying star are far more gruesome than a clinical distribution.”
Connor stares at him, bewildered. “Those aren’t even remotely the same thing. Get better metaphors.”
“If you insist,” Heartland remarks, looking vexingly unbothered by this, “I’ll tell my surgeons to have my next cranial implant come from a writer or a poet. Will that make you feel better?”
Connor wants to tell Heartland in no uncertain terms that something that would make him feel better would involve Connor’s fist going somewhere very nonclinical indeed, but Risa places a gentle hand on his arm, a quiet reminder to cool it, and he manages to swallow back the anger before it consumes him entirely.
“So,” Connor says, fighting the urge to scream, “The trap. It didn’t work.”
Heartland arches a brow dubiously. “Of course it did. You’re here.”
Connor shakes his head, exasperated yet again by the man’s wording. “No, no. The trap with the Graveyard kids. We’re going chronologically. It failed because everyone in the colony was taken.”
“Did it?” Heartland remarks. “Because I still have all of my distributes back with me.”
Too late, Connor realizes that he’s misread the situation again. “Starkey already came back here,” he whispers quietly. “You got them back.”
“Of course I did,” Heartland says mildly. “He fell for the same lie you did. Funny, no matter the technique– blood or bargaining– both of you dropped all of your good sense the moment you heard there were distributes about to die.”
Risa lets out a slow gasp. “You have everybody?”
Strangely enough, Heartland wavers slightly before he answers. “Yes.”
“No,” Connor guesses. “You don’t. Someone escaped. He’s got a big group, someone could have slipped through the cracks.”
At the bright flash of warning in Heartland’s eyes, Connor knows he’s struck it right. Risa grins. “Starkey got away didn’t he? Little starspawn always puts himself first.”
Heartland’s mood has gone sour, and when he starts to move forward, Connor knows that the time for monologuing is over. “It doesn’t matter. He can’t run far. I have you, I have his supporters. All of you will be in pieces by the end of the week. A few hours in between captures makes no difference to me.”
Connor grabs Risa’s hand, throwing himself forward towards the gap he’d seen earlier. Immediately, a few passersby try to block their passage, but they’re both running now, as fast as they can. Connor knocks into somebody as he hurtles back through the park, but he doesn’t check to see who it was. Anyone who isn’t Risa is an enemy now, and anyone in their path will be trampled on their way to freedom.
Something whistles over Connor’s shoulder and buries itself in a nearby synth-hedge. He recognizes the slim dart as he passes, calling out to Risa in between gasps for air, “They’re shooting tranqs at us! Be careful.”
“Always am,” Risa growls under her breath, pulling him around a tight corner.
The tall gate marking the entrance of the park is within sight, and Connor puts on an extra burst of speed, willing them to get there. They can lose the guards in the streets if they have to, but right now, with everyone so close behind them, there’s no way they could last forever.
As he thinks this, Connor hears a tranq gun fire somewhere behind them, plus the whistle as the dart flies through the air. A quiet thunk sounds, and since Connor can’t feel any pain, he assumes it’s another miss, right up until the point when Risa stumbles and starts to fall.
Immediately, he starts to panic. Connor catches her before she hits the ground. As he helps her up, his hands brush the dart sticking out of her shoulder. “No,” he mutters urgently. Connor needs Risa to be able to run. It’ll be tricky to carry her unconscious body as he sprints through the city, trying to shake the Juvey-cops, but Connor has made the last year or so banking on similar impossibilities. For Risa, he might as well stop distribution altogether while he’s at it.
Clutching Risa to him, Connor stumbles through the gate. They’ll get out, they have to. Risa’s body slides from his arms the second before he’s past the twin iron bar doors, though. Already over the threshold, he spins around to retrieve her, but the doors of the gate slam shut in his face. Belatedly, he realizes that Risa is the one who pulled herself free, and it is Risa now who is locking the gate between the two of them, making sure that no one else can get out. More specifically, she is ensuring that Connor cannot get her back.
Connor tugs desperately at the metal bars of the gate, but they don’t budge. Risa has grabbed a synth-vine from the ground and is knotting it around the handles, taking extra precautions to avoid them opening.
“No!” He screams, voice raw. “Don’t you do this to me, Risa. Don’t you leave me. You promised.”
Connor feels like a child begging for something he can’t have. You promised. But they had promised, both of them, they’d sworn they’d either make it out of this alive or die together. Yet here Risa is now, locking herself and the Juveys on the other side of a wall from him.
Risa tries to answer, but already, her words are slurring, her movements impeded as the tranq works its way through her system. “You– you can’tttt– get both of us outt,” she tells him. “Save yoursellllfff, Connnnnnor. Like you did for meee.”
Connor yells that he won’t do it, he won’t, but the Juveys are upon her already, dragging Risa’s unconscious body back from the doors. It’s too late to save her, and as a gate farther down the length of the park opens up, spilling out cops onto the street about half a block from Connor, he knows that he can’t waste her sacrifice, either.
So, hating himself with every step he takes away from her, Connor turns and runs down the street, pushing himself faster and faster. Connor swears that half of his life has been running at this point. He wonders if he’ll ever stop. He wonders if he will ever forgive himself for not being the one to sacrifice himself for Risa again. He wants to tell her that he wasn’t worth this, not at the cost of her, but she can’t hear him anymore.
Connor skids down a series of alleyways. There are guards everywhere, it feels like, breathing down his back and drawing closer to him with every step he takes. Connor pulls himself up a rickety fire escape so he can use the roofline to skirt over a high gate. After that, it’s easier to drop into a new set of alleys, to cling to the shadows, to shove a hand over his mouth to muffle the wild gasps for breath as the cops go thundering past. Connor’s good at hiding, but hiding won’t save anyone but himself.
Connor sags back against the grimy wall of the back alley as reality comes crashing in again. Risa is gone. The Deadmen who managed to escape their harvest colony when Starkey saved them have been captured once again. Connor is well and truly on his own. What can one boy do to save all of his friends from dying?
Heartland would tell him nothing. Connor’s brain is telling him nothing too, but his heart whispers a different story. He can’t give up hope, not now. Hundreds of AWOLs are counting on him to break them out. Even if it kills him, Connor can at least try.
He pokes his head out of the shadow, risking a glance into the relatively dim light of the alleyway. He doesn’t hear anything, nor see any crowds of Juvey-cops waiting on him, so he creeps out a little farther, taking careful, treacherous steps down the alley and into the sun again.
Connor emerges onto a quiet scene. He can see streets unfurling somewhere in the distance. In between them, an abandoned court for some sports game that was too expensive to make it over to the OH-10 sector. Connor pads onto the smooth ground. He can’t tell what material it is, just firm enough to make him feel like the ground is solid beneath his feet, but giving just enough that he won’t risk injury.
Is this what it means to live at the heart of Centerworld? Forget the synth-gardens and false flowers; they can create entire worlds for themselves, custom-tailor planets and star systems to fit their plans. No wonder Heartland could get away with rewriting his physical body. There is no limit to innovation here, and no limit to how much they’ll strip away from the outer systems to make that happen.
Connor makes it halfway across the court before someone calls his name.
“Connor. Long time, no see.”
The words make the hairs on the back of Connor’s neck stand up. He hasn’t heard that voice in a while, but he’d recognize it anywhere. Even from somewhere behind him in the creeping metal tunnels of the Graveyard. Even glitchy and broken up from a security holo. Even now, on a planet that belongs to neither of them.
Starkey.
Connor turns around slowly, hands raising from his sides to be ready for whatever trouble is about to come his way. “What do you want?”
Starkey chuckles. His hair has gotten brighter since Connor saw him last; lighter, closer to gold than red, like a fire that’s heightened to an inferno. Connor certainly feels as if he’s a bit of pitch and charcoal, crumbling away to ash. How is it fair that Starkey had time to sit around and re-dye the locks while Connor was hurling from star system to star system in an effort to save the people he holds dear? It’s impossible. This confrontation was not supposed to happen yet. Connor needs to direct all of his focus towards saving Risa. There is no room in his plan for tangling with Starkey.
Starkey, like usual, does not seem like he cares much about what Connor wants. “That’s rude, you know. I thought you’d have kinder words for an old friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Connor spits. “Not since you had your little show on that harvest colony.”
Starkey’s grin broadens, clearly delighted. “You saw that? I was wondering if you would. Do you have any constructive criticism? I mean, you’re the king for taking down Juveys, you did do it first, but I think I did mine with a bit more flavor. You were never willing to commit. You can’t save the unwinds without willing to do whatever it takes.”
“And butchery is whatever it takes?” Connor asks dryly. “Funny, I thought that’s what we were trying to stop in the first place.”
Starkey’s incandescent smile flicks out in a second. Connor still feels like the manic grin was creepier than the dead stare, though. At least now, Connor knows what’s coming. They’re not friends and they never have been. The sooner Starkey put away the adoring fan image, the better.
“Don’t tell me you miss the doctors who would have unwound us,” he hisses. “They wanted us in pieces, Connor. They would have taken your organs in a heartbeat, and they sure as sunfire wouldn’t be crying for you like you are for them. Niceness won’t get you anywhere. They don’t have a moral compass, so why should I?”
“It’s not just the distributors you have to win over, it’s the entire galaxy.” Connor tells him. “Can’t you see that? No one will agree to stop distribution if they’re terrified of us. We have to convince people in every single star system that we deserve saving, but so long as you’re bombing out harvest colonies, that’s not going to happen. You have to play the long game.”
Starkey’s eyes flash, and Connor is briefly reminded of the flare of the exploding engines back on the Graveyard right before the whole place went nuclear. “No, Connor, you’re the one who doesn’t get it. They’ll only respond to shows of force. If we stay quiet, we’re easy to ignore. Look, right now I’ll give you the opportunity to take it back. This is your chance for redemption. You’ve been afraid of getting your hands dirty for too long. I’ve never been scared. There are no shades of gray, just black and white. You’re with them or you’re with me. Pick who you want to be, Connor, but either way, you’re not walking out of here as anything but one of my men.”
Connor’s breath feels harsh in his lungs, grating against his ribcage. He can’t join Starkey, he can’t, but what if this is the only way? “One of your men? I wasn’t aware you had an army.”
Starkey’s lip curls. “We’re better than that. They’d follow me everywhere. See, I watched you, Connor. I watched you for a year in the Graveyard. I saw what you did. Those kids loved you, even though you didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t wrap my head around why they’d willingly devote themselves to someone who clearly wasn’t willing to go all the way, but then it hit me. Everyone loves a hero. So I made myself one.”
The dots are connecting in Connor’s head, but the picture they reveal is far more terrible than he’d ever envisioned. “That’s why you sent that message through Hayden’s radio frequency, isn’t it? It wasn’t an accident, you wanted the Juvey-cops to find us. You wanted a showdown.”
“Of course I did,” Starkey sneers. “I’d been planning it for weeks. No accident there. The second the Juveys were sighted, I directed all of my closest followers plus a few extra kids towards one of the shuttles that was still docked in the Graveyard. We got out before shots were even fired. After that, it was easy to track down the harvest colony. Once I swooped in and saved the day, they loved me more than they’ll ever love you. Best decision I ever made.”
Connor wants to kill him. “Sentencing hundreds of kids to distribution, destroying the Graveyard, killing the Admiral– that was the best decision you ever made? People died in the riots. Dozens have already been unwound. All so you could get some hero worship.”
Starkey just shrugs. “Every battle has its casualties. We’re still alive, aren’t we? I knew you would pull through anyway. I hate to say it, but I was counting on it. I always use you to spring the trap. I slipped up this time, I tried to free the kids first, but next time I’ll let you challenge that weirdo before me so I can get it right.”
“What do you mean, next time?” Connor asks, voice tightening. “Just what are you planning?”
Starkey spreads his arms theatrically. “I’m ending it. No more distribution. It was one thing to take out a harvest colony, but with the amount of explosives I’ve got on my ship, I could take out this whole damn city.”
Connor tenses up. “You’re not just targeting the distributors. You want to kill the civilians, too.”
Starkey chuckles remorselessly. “Of course I do. You think I give a damn about Centerworld? Look around you, Connor. Look how much they have that we don’t. This is what they deserve. It’s what we deserve. We’re going to bomb them to pieces. Maybe then they’ll have a deeper appreciation for what it’s like to be unwound.”
“No,” Connor breaks out. “You can’t. He captured Risa. I have to get her back first.”
Starkey lifts a shoulder. “I don’t care, I’m not stopping for one girl. Now come on. You’re either with me,” he says slowly, drifting closer to Connor again, “or you’re against me. Make your choice.”
Connor shakes his head. “I’m not joining you, Starkey. If you’ve been watching me this long, you know there’s no way I’d do anything to risk Risa. You killed my friends. You’re no better than the rest of them.”
Starkey’s face shuts down. “Actually, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Connor sees the flash of Starkey’s hand to his belt right before the first shot rings out. Connor only just manages to drop to the ground and catch himself in a tight roll to the side. He hears the bullet whistle over his head and realizes that Starkey isn’t bothering with tranqs. Only one of them will be leaving this place alive, and since Starkey is the one with the gun, it isn’t looking great for Connor.
Another shot goes in the ground just a few inches from Connor’s head. He springs to his feet, racing towards the nearest exit. Already, the sound of gunfire is attracting attention: a few heads poke out of nearby windows, and Connor can see the distant silhouettes of passersby pointing out the two of them.
“Stop this,” Connor urges. “I’m not your enemy, you idiot. You’re going to get the Juveys on us again.”
“They’ll only find your body,” Starkey challenges, and fires again.
Swearing violently, Connor throws himself around a corner. The bullet hits the wall, sending forth a shower of sparks and loose debris.
“Come out, Connor, come out,” Starkey calls, his tone a mocking sing-song beat.
Obviously Connor is not about to do this, so he drifts further down the side of the wall. Starkey is just on the other side of him, about to fire again and end it for real, and then his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack with shock.
Too late, Connor peers past him and sees that Juvey-cops have broken into the scene. One is lowering a tranq gun. As Starkey slumps over, Connor can see the dart embedded in his back. Quickly, the cops rush over and restrain him, hauling the boy to his feet. Starkey tries to fight back, but the tranq is slowing him down and it’s easy for the Juvey-cops to get him under control.
Starkey locks eyes with Connor as they drag him away. All of a sudden, his jaw unhinges and he starts to scream at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his mouth with the force of his yells. “Wait, stop! He’s the one you want, not me! Connor Lassiter is right in front of you. You can get the fucking Akron AWOL. Kill him! Kill Connor! He’s your enemy. He’s the one you want.”
Connor’s eyes widen, and he presses himself further into the shadows. Starkey redoubles his efforts to break free, writhing in the arms of the Juvey-cops even as they pull him farther from Connor. “Get Connor!” Starkey screams again. “You don’t even want me. I didn’t do anything to you. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. Fuck the Juveys. Fuck Centerworld. I’m just a kid.”
Nausea threatens to black him out, and Connor has to press a hand against his mouth to bring himself under control. Starkey disappears down the street, but the rest of the Juveys don’t follow him out of the court. Instead, a few exchange glances, then start to head Connor’s way, evidently wanting to see what Starkey was talking about just in case.
Sunfire. Not what he wanted. Connor turns to run for what might be the hundredth time today, but he has no idea where to go. He’s out of the alleys now. All that’s left is the street lined with luxurious houses, and anyone watching from their gilded windows could tell the Juveys where Connor went. He starts moving anyway, a brisk walk turning into a jog, but there’s nowhere to hide out here.
So he thinks, at least, until a hand latches onto his and starts to drag him away. Connor’s first instinct is to fight, but then he realizes that this mysterious stranger is leading him farther from the cops, not towards them, and he slackens his grip. He doesn’t recognize the teenager, nor the one who joins them half a block down, nor the one at the door of a house who ushers them all through the door and into the relative safety of the building.
Connor does, however, recognize the blond tween who’s waiting for him inside. It’s been a long time since they crossed paths, but when Connor gapes at the boy in front of him, the name that rises to his lips is still the correct one:
“Lev?”
unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#unwind#unwind imagines#unwind oneshot#unwind series#unwind fanfic#unwind dystology#unwind dystology imagines#unwind dystology oneshot#unwind dystology series#unwind dystology fanfic#connor lassiter#connor lassiter imagines#connor lassiter oneshot#connor lassiter series#connor lassiter fanfic#risa ward#risa ward imagines#risa ward oneshot#risa ward series#risa ward fanfic#conrisa#conrisa imagines#conrisa oneshot#conrisa series#conrisa fanfic#connor lassiter x risa ward#connor x risa
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MAJOR UNWIND SPOILER
As a dropout philosophy major i feel like i can talk about this.
In unwind chapter 61 when we see the process of unwinding firsthand and Rolland's consciousness fades out his last thoughts are "I am" or something like that. He thinks, therefore he is. But once he enters the "divided state" he can no longer form actual thoughts which means he is not. Like the way unwinding is marketed as a happy option for troubled kids is genius propaganda, because almost everyone is at least familiar with the thought mentioned above yet in the unwind universe it's accepted as general truth that you still exist in the divided state. When in reality unwound kids cannot be considered as existing.
Idk where i was going with this, there's a reason i dropped out of uni lol
#unwind#connor lassiter#risa ward#unwind dystology#neal shusterman#roland taggart#lev calder#idk I've not finished the whole series yet i just wanna ramble abt it
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Babs
Hehe
#unwind#unwind dystology#sequel fic#unwind fanfic#unwind series#art#character art#roland taggart#connor lassiter#cam comprix#hayden upchurch#the admiral#unwind oc#risa ward#lev tashi'ne#mason starkey#argent skinner#grace skinner#cyrus finch
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Recalled • Part 6 • 44 - Roland
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TW/CW: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Biphobia, Fever Dreams. (I am so sorry.)
Read the summarized version here.
#unwind#unwind dystology#unwind fanfic#unwind series#sequel fic#roland taggart#unwind oc#hayden upchurch#risa ward
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EVERYONE. NOW. YNWUND DISCORD SERVER!!!
I need helping setting it up pookie who wants to be a mod
#unwind dystology#unwind#unwind book#Connor Lassiter#lev calder#lev garrity#lev tashi'ne#risa ward#Hayden upchurch#neal shusterman#unwind series#unwholly#unsouled#undivided#unstrung
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I love Risa so much I can't believe she's dead also where did the desk chair go
#gen6lily#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 legacy#sims 4 legacy challenge#sims 4 simblr#sims 4 maxis match#sims 4 screenshots#sims 4 challenge#sims 4#sims 4 snowy escape#sims 4 cats and dogs#lily anguiano#risa ward#unwind series
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FINAL FANTASY SERIES VERSES.
∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ wutaian priestess ⊹ — final fantasy vii / age : 20.
rei hino is a young priestess & ninja in the country of wutai. she is highly skilled in espionage & her flame divinations have made her a valuable asset to the kisaragi clan . renowned for her incredible beauty , she is infamous for driving off suitors with her sharp tongue, aloof behavior & slight temper .
∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ princess from another continent ⊹ — final fantasy xvi / ages : 24 / 29 ( first timekskip & second respectively ).
originally born outside of valisthea in the continent of orience, rei-hime was the only child born of the union between emperor shido & risa-hime from the kingdom of konosakuya. wishing to travel & learn from outside world, ( referred to as the new age of knowledge ) the emperor sent rei-hime as a symbol of peace & wished for her to learn from sanbreque, with whom they would trade silks & other precious material with. rei-hime was sent as a ward & christened the name branwen for her ink-black hair & affinity for ravens & crows; she was taught to be a proper lady of the court and exchange cultural info about konosakuya with others. she becomes embroiled in a conflict & war of the eikons, something that she was not privy to beforehand ... but armed with her archery & innate fire magic, rei-hime is given the opportunity to help the ones she loves.
#∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ wutaian priestess ⊹ — ffvii.#∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ princess from another continent ⊹ — ffxvi.#ff verse drop I.
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Another older drawing of Sir Nighteye but a more self-indulgent one with my OC I ship with him.
Timeline-wise, I drew this with the idea that this was right as they started dating, which would be a few years or so before his falling out with All-Might. Drawing Nighteye without his eye bags was a little weird, but it's not noticeable until...I point it out...welp XD
a 3D background was used for this because I wasn't feeling well at the time but really wanted to draw them. A little info about my girl Risa under the cut!
Risa has one pink fingernail not just to be a little silly on purpose. Her quirk relates to her emotions and her ability to assist others with their own with a simple hand touch. She typically keeps her nails painted as they can change color based on her mood (still working on exactly how it'll look). Her right index is one she normally keeps unpainted, so it's the only pink one. The color pink signifying that she's in love.
She's a nurse but in this image timeline-wise, she's fresh out of medical school and just got her job at the hospital she still works at in the current canon timeline of the series. (She later became head nurse for the facility for quirk-related accidents she also helped lead the campaign for the building, as well as helping in the maternity ward and ER, having started in the ER)
#bluethealpha art#bnha#bnha sir nighteye#my hero academia#my hero academia sir nighteye#sir nighteye#bnha oc#bnha oc x canon#oc x canon#my hero academia oc#my hero academia oc x canon#bluethealpha risa
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Choose Cthulhu os propone un ranking de las 30 ilustraciones más escalofriantes de nuestra serie de LIBROJUEGOS y queremos saber tu opinión: 27. Choose Cthulhu 14: El caso de Charles Dexter Ward ilustración de @eliezermayor BABA YAGA: Algo en este desolado erial te produce una inquietud desasosegante, nunca habías visto esta parte de la ciudad, ni siquiera has oído hablar de ella antes. Te das la vuelta esperando ver las luces de la lejana Providence, pero no contemplas más que una negra nube que se retuerce sobre sí misma como lo haría un puñado de gusanos. Hay algo en la definición exacerbada de esos cúmulos que te resulta inexplicable, como si los estuvieras viendo demasiado cerca, demasiado grandes. Empiezas a correr a medida que las voces y las risas se hacen más intensas y cercanas. Te atreves a echar un vistazo por encima del hombro y lo que ves te hace envejecer de golpe otros diez años. Las casetas putrefactas que querías dejar atrás se han arremolinado unas contra otras hasta formar una única entidad de madera, barro y óxido. El pueblucho es ahora una siniestra amalgama de puertas desvencijadas, ventanales de cristales aserrados de los que surgen trapos mugrientos que se agitan como cilios de alguna entidad repulsiva... ¡Y que se alza del suelo sobre dos patas huesudas y rematadas en garras de águila! ¡Todo el pueblo es ahora una única chabola, sin forma lógica, que corre hacia ti, como lo haría un inmenso avestruz! Huyes a la desbandada por el páramo. Tu anciano corazón palpita al ritmo de una locomotora, pero sabes que, si te detienes, esa casa, animal o espíritu maligno, te devorará y usará tus huesos para ampliar su terrorífica simetría. Boqueando como un pez arponeado, te sumes en una negrura de dientes, raíces y clavos lamidos de herrumbre de la que jamás despertarás. Recuerda que nuestros libros están disponibles en todas las librerias y en nuestra web con gastos de envío gratuitos: www.choosecthulhu.com #choosecthulhu #cthulhu #cthulhumythos #hplovecraft #halloween #gamebooks #librojuego #eligetupropiaaventura #chooseyourownadventurebooks #horrorart #terror #juegosdemesa #queleer #bookstagramespaña #libros #librosrecomendados https://www.instagram.com/p/Cjd-OjWogQN/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#choosecthulhu#cthulhu#cthulhumythos#hplovecraft#halloween#gamebooks#librojuego#eligetupropiaaventura#chooseyourownadventurebooks#horrorart#terror#juegosdemesa#queleer#bookstagramespaña#libros#librosrecomendados
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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Ten: Still Here
Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.
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At first, Risa can’t even think because of the screaming. She cries and shouts until her vocal chords are raw; past that, even, because when she looks up in a daze some time later, she wouldn’t be surprised if she’s lost the ability to speak altogether. This doesn’t hurt her as much as it should. Who would she speak to if not Connor?
Connor. Connor is gone. It’s been more than a year since she first met the boy, and she was kind of counting on the fact that she wouldn’t ever have to be without him. Connor is her one constant. When she’s on the run from the Juveys, when she’s hiding in the Graveyard, when any trouble comes her way, Risa has always had Connor. Always, until now.
Risa gives her grief one last moment to consume her, then forces herself to snap back to reality. Connor is tenacious. He’ll have found a way out. Connor will have tracked down another hidden escape pod or else made one himself out of spare parts. Maybe he’ll even have forced his way onto one of the Juvey-cop warships and masterminded his way into a one-man coup. He’ll come to her in command of a fully armed battalion, and brush it off as just a bit of fun in his free time.
The thought makes her laugh, and it is this last bit of hope that makes Risa surge forward and take hold of the controls once more. Yes, Connor will have found a way to survive, and he’ll find a way to her again. Until then, Risa must manage to make it out of this tiny escape pod and onto a planet so they can meet up, because they will, and then everything can be okay again.
Risa turns her attention back to the control panel before her. Admittedly, she’s not the best pilot, but escape pods were designed with the knowledge that most people using them had already managed to grievously mess up their original ship, so the layout is exceedingly clear. An infant could manage to make this work, so at this point, it’ll be more embarrassing than anything if Risa can’t figure it out.
In the chaos back on the dying Graveyard, they had set a destination in the navigation interface, but she doubts Connor remembers it. They hadn’t had the time to leisurely peruse their options for the best scenery and general tourism, after all. She’s fairly sure that Connor had just picked the first option that came up on the loading screen. Seeing as Risa still has no clue where they are, and thus has no preference to be sent anywhere else, she decides to stick with that for now.
Risa leans back in her seat, trying to get her bearings. The escape pod has rotated such that she can’t see the Graveyard anymore. Instead, the only sight around her is space, wide and desolate. Connor’s always had a fondness for it, she knows that, but to Risa the vision of that many stars just makes her think of all the places she could hide, all the people she wouldn’t know about. The galaxy is huge. What are the odds that Connor finds her again even if he does manage to make it off of the Graveyard in time?
The fear from earlier threatens to cascade over her again, but Risa puts herself on mental lockdown. She won’t think about it. She can’t. The only option is to assume that Connor survived. She’ll have time to grieve later, but she won’t have to.
A beeping from the nav panel draws her attention back from the precipice, and Risa’s stomach lurches when she realizes it’s flashing red in an alarm signal. Squinting at the fine print, she reads the warning in full, but what she sees only makes her stress heighten, fissuring into her brain like a needle. She had assumed that the rogue chunk of ceiling debris that had put an end to Connor’s escape pod back on the Graveyard had left her pod intact, but it must have clipped the pod after all because the readout indicates that her fuel tank has been steadily leaking this whole time. It’s already half empty now, and she’s definitely not halfway to her target planet, at least according to the live map on the nav readout.
Swearing softly, Risa pokes cautiously at the nav screen until she can find a menu. It’s not too late to change her destination, so she probes around until she finds another option that’s closer to her. It’s quite small, more like a moon than a full-blown planet. More than that, it’s not where Connor sent her, but it’s not like Risa has much of a choice at this point. She’s sure he’d prefer her to land on a different world than to run out of fuel in the middle of empty space and die out in the endless cold.
The pod flies. The fuel continues to drip out somewhere behind her. As both the journey and the power source come increasingly near to the end of the line, Risa grips the armrests of her seat, fingernails digging into the smooth silicate material. There’s absolutely nothing she can do now but sit and wait for either a semi-smooth landing or no landing at all, but the powerlessness does nothing to calm her nerves.
All this time, Risa has always had an option, something she could do: run away, choose Connor, flee to the Graveyard, find an escape pod, but now, in the face of yet another danger, Risa’s hands are tied. Either she dies or she doesn’t, but it won’t be by Risa’s actions. Some would call that a relief, but to Risa it just feels like a cop-out. Shouldn’t she always be able to do something? Dying from a power out of her control after everything she’s been through would be obscene.
She nears the small planet. As the pod enters the atmosphere, its surface starts to heat up. The torn edge of the fuel tank doesn’t take kindly to the sudden air compression. Sparks flare along the metal seams of the pod, sparks that lengthen into ribbons of white hot flame. Risa shuts her eyes and begs anything out there– the stars, the suns, even the Collective in all its self-righteous tyranny– that she will survive this. Her last moments cannot be in a tight metal coffin. Not when there’s nobody here beside her.
A click, a shudder, a jolt; Risa’s fingernails dig so hard into her palms that she’s certain they’ll bleed, but instead of tearing into pieces, the escape pod’s landing gear begins to move into place. The pod’s acceleration abruptly staggers when a parachute unfurls from the top. When Risa dares to crack open her eyes, she sees not the assumed inferno of her death but thick clouds gently drifting past her, which give way to long expanses of flat brown and gray land, like the grain of synth-lumber.
Risa was hoping that the tendrils of flame still playing upon the side of the pod would die out as the metal adjusted to the atmosphere, but no such luck. The second the escape pod touches down with far more shaking than Risa would like, she immediately unbuckles her harness and slams the button for the exit hatch until it creaks open. What lies before her is an empty clearing of barren ground, surrounded on all sides by the rocky fingers of a few occasional stone outcroppings. Not exactly hospitable, but better than the pod.
Dizzy from the shaky landing, Risa stumbles over the mouth of the hatch, head spinning. Peeking out the door, Risa’s heart chills when she realizes that the flames are almost at the cracked fuel container. She has to get away in case it explodes, but walking feels impossible. Risa makes it out of the pod, the landscape swimming before her, and immediately trips on the uneven ground. She struggles to pick herself up, but the fabric and ropes of the parachute have tangled on the ground in front of her, and Risa just can’t figure out how to liberate her ankles from the mess of cloth.
Tugging fruitlessly at the material, Risa’s gaze is jerked away when she spots movement at the corner of her eyes, more than just the black dots swimming in front of her vision with each unsteady breath she draws. She pulls harder at the ropes, but the knots around her legs refuse to come undone.
The shadow in her peripheral vision lengthens into the silhouette of a person. Frantic, Risa tries to stand again, but she falls again before she can get higher than her knees. The figure surges forward and Risa flinches away, certain it’s going to kill her. It stops a few feet away, cocking its head in confusion and what Risa swears is indignance. The way it moves is strange, a little too quick and unpredictable to be fully human. It looks like a person, certainly, but there is something about it that most certainly isn’t right, something that Risa’s addled brain can’t quite piece together at the moment.
It crawls forward on its hands and knees, but slow and deliberate, as if keen to prove it’s not a threat. It raises its hands in surrender, and when Risa doesn’t move anymore, it flicks out a knife and starts to saw at the web of ropes from the parachute. Risa holds deathly still, all too aware that one false move could liberate her legs not just from the clutch of the material but the rest of her body, but the humanoid doesn’t hurt her, not in the slightest. Once she’s free, it puts away the blade with an odd flicking motion, and Risa realizes belatedly that the knife wasn’t a knife at all, but somehow a part of its finger.
Risa coughs, trying to clear her dusty, aching throat. “Who– who are–”
She’s interrupted by the shrieking of collapsing metal from the pod, and both she and the figure turn in unison to watch the fuel container finally give in to the relentless surge of the fire. The figure’s eyes widen, and it lunges forward, grabbing Risa in its arms before sprinting away. It moves fast, too fast, and picks her up as if she were no trouble at all. They’re across the clearing in what feels like a matter of seconds, and the creature huddles behind the cover of a rock face, Risa still cradled in its embrace. She draws one shaky, terrified breath, and then an explosion booms across the space they’d just crossed, shaking the rocks with the force of its fury.
Well, Risa thinks wryly, There goes my future as an escape pod pilot. She wants to think more about the implications of losing her only way out, but for some reason thoughts are very difficult to form right now. The edges of her vision are fuzzy and getting fuzzier. The thing in front of her frowns, starts to position its mouth as if it wants to ask her something, but Risa never gets to figure out if it can. Instead, she’s dropping deep into endless blackness, and Risa Ward feels no more.
She is not dead. That would be unfair. After everything, Risa will not die of exhaustion or trauma from a damaged escape pod or even the destruction of an explosion so nearby. It takes her a while to wake up, though. Her body needs the rest, and wants to cling to unconsciousness for as long as it can before forcing itself to face reality once more. Still, it takes some time before her eyes open completely. There is still much to do, many things to learn, and plenty of ground to cross.
When Risa comes to, she is not alone. It takes her a moment to realize that this is abnormal. She has been placed on her back on smooth ground, and is being watched by a person leaning against a rocky overhang. No, not a person; Risa remembers now, and more than that, she’s able to recognize why this being had unsettled her before the explosion. It’s not that the creature before her isn’t human, it is. Just not completely human.
The figure eyeing her with the same placid gaze is a conglomeration of parts. Many are from humans. Different humans, but humans nonetheless. Both of its eyes are different colors, different shapes. The hands folded neatly in its laps are host to fingers of a variety of shapes. They don’t all line up neatly. The hair on its head switches from burnished copper to dark brown to thick curls. The seams of the different pieces are smooth, practically nonexistent, even where– even where the flesh ends and the metal begins. The figure isn’t just made up of different people, it’s also made up of different materials, flesh and bone but also smooth polymers and curving metal plates. It makes this humanoid a–
“Cyborg” Risa says, surprising herself, “You’re a cyborg.” An amalgamation of living pieces and metal. It might even be made of redistributed limbs, parts of unlucky ferals that ended up in creatures like this instead of supposedly extending the greater life of the universe or whatever lie the Collective likes to push.
Most people would be annoyed if she called them out like that. Instead, the figure just inclines its head in one steady, sedate motion. “Yes,” it says, “I am a cyborg. Android. Robot. Gizmo. Gadget. Not all of those at once, of course, but they’re roughly correct. Almost certain. Not quite true. You can call me what you please.”
Risa sits up a little, frowning at the torrent of words that pour from the cyborg’s mouth. “Do you have a name?”
It tilts its head to the side, considering this. A string of small lights on a metal panel near its left temple turns a deep yellow, almost gold. “I have been called Camus Comprix.”
Risa arches her brow. “You have been called that? Were you involved in the decision?”
Something that could objectively be called a smile graces the cyborg’s face. Its lips turn up, but there is no warmth in the expression. “I was made in a laboratory. Not all decisions involving me, involved me.” It pauses, making the lights by its temple flash a pensive orange, then adds on, a little hastily, “Although I have sometimes thought of myself as Cam.”
“Cam,” Risa repeats, “I like it.”
Cam flashes her a grin of perfectly even teeth. “What is your name? Common practice dictates that questions someone asks should be asked back to them. It is as if we only want to know about others what we most want them to know about ourselves.”
“Or they just want something to call you,” Risa comments.
The lights on Cam’s temple turn green. “Or that.”
He looks at her inquisitively, and Risa remembers to actually answer the question. “My name is Risa. Risa Ward.”
“Ward,” Cam muses. “Patient. Protege. Dependent. Who do you depend on, Risa Ward? You came down in a pod. Do you not depend on anyone anymore?”
His manner of questioning is far more forward than anyone Risa’s met. She has the brief, involuntary thought that if Cam was ever allowed in a room with Hayden, they would be able to draw out anyone’s secrets in mere moments, but the accompanying agony of thinking of any friend she can’t see face to face makes her quickly tuck the idea back away in the darker crevices of her mind.
“I try not to, but that doesn’t always work out for me,” Risa admits. “I’m looking for a friend of mine, actually. We were both on this big star cruiser together but it– I had to leave. I don’t know when he’s coming, but he will be. I need to meet him.”
Cam’s gaze turns from quizzical to piercing. “This was close by, wasn’t it? Local. Nearby. I detected many ships going towards a cruiser just a few standard hours ago.”
Risa leans forward, unable to hide her desperation. “You can sense ships up there?”
Cam nods. “Telescopic lenses. I can see what happened. Spot it. Sight it. That’s how I knew to come find your pod. You were one of the last ones that left, and the only one that came over here. So far, at least.”
Risa’s fingers knit together. “Can you see all of the pods? Did any leave after me?”
As a cyborg, even with all of his organic parts, a being like Camus Comprix will never entirely be able to replicate human emotion. Still, the expression that flickers onto his face reminds Risa a little too much of regret.
“None left after you,” Cam tells her. “If any pods were left, they were not able to escape the inferno that consumed the cruiser.”
He looks as if he’d like to add on several more adjectives about the explosion, but bites his tongue so as to not release the stream of synonyms into the air, clearly out of respect for Risa.
It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t hold them back, anyway. Risa can hardly hear a word he says afterwards. She’s reeling in shock and deep, grave agony. The Graveyard blew up. She had thought that the Juvey-cops would have left it intact so they could search the place more thoroughly, but the cruiser had been in the process of tearing itself to pieces when her pod launched. It would have been simple for any one of the complex systems to misfire and put the rusting skeleton out of its misery.
Although it seems foolish, Risa can’t help a brief twinge of loss for the ship. That’s yet another home she’s lost, never to see again. Her med bay, kept carefully organized for so many months, is so much space dust now. Every corridor she learned by heart, every secret room she explored with Connor. Her bunk, her desk. It’s all gone now.
More engulfing than the loss of the Graveyard, though, is the loss of Connor. Connor Lassiter is a lot of things, capable of infinitely many daring tasks and expert close calls, but an explosion like that– the Juveys would be lucky if they got out of the danger zone, and they were on fully stocked warships. Connor just had his skin and bone.
Risa is still vaguely aware of Cam somewhere in front of her, watching her closely, so she slowly folds all of her grief back into her heart, tucking it away until the rocks and stones around her come back into focus again. At some point, Risa will be alone again, and then she can let the grief consume her as she pleases. Until then, she’ll just have to keep going.
Roughly wiping the tears from her face, Risa straightens up. “The cruiser is gone, then. Fine. I need somewhere else to go than just this clearing. Is there a city nearby? I didn’t see one when I landed.”
Despite his smooth exterior, Risa swears Cam freezes in place. “There is,” he says at last, “But– it’s not– There are no humans on this planet, Risa. It was never designed with people in mind.”
At first, the thought doesn’t even register. “It’s all natural? That’s impossible. I thought the Collective wiped out all wildlife generations ago.”
The lights at Cam’s temple burn a low, dark red. Anger, maybe, or even the faintest pinpricks of shame. “They did. This small of a moon, though, it would never take to settlers. Not enough space. This town’s not big enough for the two of us. They built the labs instead. They made us, but we didn’t pay off the way they hoped. No cash cow. Didn’t make a killing. No bread on our table. They packed up and moved on. Now we’re all that’s left.”
Risa’s starting to put the pieces together. “Wait, so there are more of you? More cyborgs? And when the scientists who made you changed their minds about what they wanted, they just abandoned you on this moon?”
“Eureka,” Cam says glumly.
Risa blows out a low breath. “That’s terrible. Are they at least sending supplies?”
The raw skepticism on Cam’s face tells Risa all she needs to know. “So the city–”
“It’s nothing,” Cam supplies. “Rusting buildings. Everything is falling to pieces. I’ve maintained myself the best over the years, so I take care of the rest when I can. It won’t last forever, though. Already, they’re falling apart. It’s certainly no place for a human to stay.”
Risa feels a swarm of guilt press against her throat. “What about you, then? There’s nothing here. You can’t hold out forever.”
Cam’s eyes are unsettlingly empty. She hadn’t realized how hard he was trying to keep up his expressions, to stay human, until he let it go. “I shut down. Lights off. Case closed.”
They drift into uneasy silence for a while, musing on that, and then Cam stands up abruptly, his knees and joints flexing seamlessly like they ran on gears instead of muscles. Which, being unable to guess at his innards, Risa reckons they might.
“I will take you to the city,” he announces. “A few of the labs are still intact. None of us like going in there, so they’re in pretty good condition. You might be able to send a signal there.”
Risa nods, taking the hand he offers so she can stand as well. “You’re willing to do that for a stranger?”
“You are not a stranger anymore, Risa Ward,” Cam informs her. The lights at his temple blink a lovely emerald green. “You are my friend.”
The journey is tedious. At this point, Risa’s starting to think that the scientists who abandoned Cam and the rest of the cyborgs must have designed this planet in a lab, too. The ground is perfectly flat, everything coated with a thin film of dust that clings to her shoes with each step she takes. Occasional rock formations pepper the landscape, but for the most part, it’s all the same. In the distance, Risa can make out the skyline of what must be the city Cam was referring to. It’ll probably take at least an hour of walking to reach it, but the air is cool and she’s got interesting company, so the time won’t drag.
Cam asks about how Risa came to be in the pod, and she ends up telling him everything. At first, she had wondered if that was the best idea, but it’s obvious that he would have no way of getting her in trouble for it. Since Cam is pretty much the only thing keeping her alive at this point, she figures a bit of small talk can’t hurt.
It is somewhat fascinating to get to spill her life story like this. Risa’s been around the same people for a year now, give or take the slow rotation of kids in the Graveyard as some age out and others are brought in. Her circle of friends already knows who she is, so she’s never had to explain herself.
Cam, however, is a fresh start, a clean slate. He has no idea who she’s supposed to be, only who she is right now. In a way, it’s kind of nice to be able to decide who she is again. Risa is more than just the smart one, the one who makes the plans. And she’ll prove it now, by making such colossally stupid mistakes that no one would ever think about connecting the past Risa with whatever she is right now.
Cam doesn’t know about her inner turmoil, though. He just knows that she’s Risa, and she’s got plenty of new stories to tell that he hasn’t heard yet, so right now she’s, like, the greatest thing ever. He seems particularly delighted by the idea of the Graveyard, and keeps asking about just how many people were there, just what it was like to wake up in the morning and be surrounded by all that noise. When she describes the gentle din of laughter and conversation that used to fill the halls during break hours, Cam actually closes his eyes and inhales deeply, like he could travel there just by breathing in her words, a figurative file transfer.
“But it’s gone now,” Cam mumbles, brow furrowed. “It blew up this morning.”
“Yes,” Risa whispers. Its absence still haunts her like a phantom limb.
“I can see why you were upset.” Cam tells her. “It sounds like an excellent place to be. So many friends. Allies. Compatriots. All with their own stories to tell about escaping distribution.”
Risa nods. “I am sad to leave it, and not just because it was how I stayed alive. But there’s also–”
“Connor,” Cam supplies. The topmost light in the string by his temple burns scarlet before quickly clearing again.
“Connor,” Risa repeats. Even saying his name hurts. She’s fully aware of the fact that she could go to this city of cyborgs to send out a signal only to be picked up by the Juveys, but even the remote possibility that Connor might hear her is enough.
Cam is silent for a while. “You have other friends than Connor, yes? You will try to reach them, too?”
“I will,” Risa concedes. “Hayden’s probably listening, if he made it out. But Connor is the one I want to find the most.”
The corner of Cam’s mouth flickers into a disappointed frown, and he says no more on the subject. They talk about the city, the lab building they’re trying to find, but the reverence with which Cam had spoken of the Graveyard is gone.
As they draw closer to the city, Risa starts to spot more and more evidence of its decay. They pass the first body about ten minutes out from the border, but a few more appear as they draw ever nearer. Just as Cam said, every slumped figure belongs to a cyborg. Some seem as if they’ve fallen just that morning. Others show signs of having given out quite some time ago, the rotting chunks of mismatched flesh completely erased to reveal solid metal and polymer structures beneath their multicolored skin.
Cam looks away when they pass each one. It occurs to Risa that this is probably like stumbling upon the bodies of his friends. “How many cyborgs are here?”
“The records indicate somewhere around a hundred,” Cam recites. “I have no idea if that number is true. Many of us spread out when the scientists left, though most stayed in the city proper. The rest could be anywhere on the planet. I know the ones who let me help, but many would rather no one saw them go to pieces.”
The shadows of the city fall upon Risa’s feet, and she cranes her neck to stare at the crumbling buildings. There are a few skyscrapers in the very center, but the exteriors are in poor condition. The rest of the buildings around the base of the towering structures are far worse for wear, as if every available material has been harvested long ago. Risa can see houses with missing front doors and broken windows like gap teeth. Everything that hasn’t been nailed down was taken away a long time ago to maintain cyborgs that still corrode by the day.
Cam takes her on a looping, backstreets way to the center. “It’s best if we stay out of sight as much as possible,” he tells her. “It’s too dangerous to go by night, but I don’t know how the rest of us would take to the sight of a human. Keep close to me.”
She follows him down narrow alleys, occasionally hovering in the shadows of a building while they wait for a cyborg or two to pass by before skirting around an intersection. They do their best to move quietly, but Risa swears she can still feel eyes watching her as they plunge further into the rotting city.
Once, they turn a corner to find a cyborg sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall and staring directly at them. Its hair is long and greasy, falling in many-hued sections far past its shoulders. Both of its feet are metal, although the left one is missing several toes, so Risa cannot tell for sure if they were once flesh or merely metal that got lost over the years. She has the absurd mental image of an arguing husband and wife from one of those sitcoms some of the faculty members loved to watch back at the StaHo– Honey, have you seen my toes? I swear I put them right here– and has to bite her lip to avoid hysterical laughter.
The cyborg watches them go, but doesn’t make a move. Even still, they pick up the pace, and don’t let up until several blocks are between them and the metal-footed cyborg. The sun is still relatively high in the sky overhead, albeit sinking more quickly than Risa would like, but the streets still seem gray and uninviting. Everything seems faded and worn, like old holos of neighborhoods that have long since been demolished.
Waiting under a tattered storefront awning for a pair of cyborgs to limp past the street beyond, Risa pivots in a slow half circle to get a better look at her surroundings. There’s a large poster on the wall of a nearby building, and she squints to get a better look. She’s actually seen this before, she thinks, or at least a holo-copy of it in one of her classes in the State Home. It’s an old political design from the early days of the Collective, featuring a man in an old-timey suit holding a test tube and grinning proudly. The text reads, Saving Our Worlds– And Our Neighborhoods!
Risa had to analyze variations of that image plenty of times in history classes, so she’s able to identify the man pictured as Dorian Heartland, the guy who created the Proactive Citizenry. He was a huge supporter of distribution, so obviously he’s not her favorite historical figure, but the guy had a chokehold on the up-and-coming Collective. Without him spreading his pro-distribution propaganda, especially with his massive financial backing, there’s no way distribution would have caught on as fervently as it did.
“Why do you have that sort of stuff out here?” Risa asks in a low whisper, jerking her thumb towards the poster.
Cam follows her line of sight and shrugs, both shoulders rising exactly the same distance in one perfectly orchestrated move. “The Collective payroll made this city. They might just want us to remember their beliefs.”
She wants to ask more about just what that might entail, but he’s already moving on, gesturing for her to stay close, so she brushes it off and keeps going. They’ve got more pressing issues to deal with than the all-encompassing spread of Collective propaganda, namely getting Risa off of this planet before someone or something finds out she’s not supposed to be there.
Risa almost thinks that they might make it to the lab buildings without incident when Cam makes a detour away from the skyscrapers when they’re just a few blocks away.
“What are you doing?” She hisses as they twist farther down sidestreets.
“There’s someone I need to see first,” Cam whispers back. “Trust me, it won’t take long.”
It’s not as if Risa has any other great prospects at the moment, so she fights the urge to scream or run and goes after him. After glancing around to make sure they aren’t being followed, Cam pulls her into a ramshackle building that, according to the long-dead neon sign on the front, was once a beauty parlor.
“Do you want to get your nails done?” She asks Cam, bewildered.
He just chuckles. “I’m seeing a friend. Although I’m sure she’d love to give you a manicure if you asked. She’s very eager to practice her craft.”
Cam shuts the door behind them, reaching somewhere to the side to turn on the lights, which only flicker on with great reluctance. “Audrey?” He calls. “It’s Cam, and I’ve brought a friend.”
There’s a shuffling sound from one of the back rooms, and while the owner of the sound comes over, Risa takes the time to study the building they’re in. This is indeed a beauty parlor, albeit a very dilapidated version. There are old, cracked mirrors in front of high chairs, each one supported by a desk containing broken hair curlers, dusty makeup brushes, and other basic supplies. A cabinet at the close end of the room does indeed hold rows of nail polishes, but judging by the rather volatile smell coming from some of the broken lids, Risa isn’t sure that she trusts her fingers anywhere near the shades.
“Why is there a beauty parlor here?” Risa whispers to Cam. “No offense, but it doesn’t really match the vibe of the rest of the city.”
“Appearances are very important,” Cam mumbles back. “They wanted us to feel like we were real people.”
The last sentence is muttered with undisguised disgust. How infuriating, to be placed in a mock city by your creators like dress-up dolls only to be abandoned the second they were interested in better toys. No amount of hair dye nor dried-up mascara will disguise the fact that this is no real place to live.
The owner of the shop bustles in at last. Her ear-to-ear grin is only highlighted by the lurid pink of her lipstick. Her hair has been carefully teased into a big updo, although it’s starting to deflate unevenly, giving Risa the impression that the cyborg is slowly tilting over. Her entire left arm is replaced with robotic pieces, and even the metal parts change color and texture from shoulder to wrist, matching the patchwork of skin tones on the rest of the cyborg’s body.
“Camus,” the cyborg says reverently, “You’re back! Oh, I knew you couldn’t stay away forever. What can I get for you, sweetheart?”
Cam chuckles as she wraps him in a hug. The cyborg’s metal joints creak alarmingly, but neither of them pay it any attention. “I’m not here for me, Audrey. I wanted to introduce you to a friend.”
Risa’s eyes widen as the sheer force of Audrey’s cheer is directed towards her. “It’s nice to meet you,” she begins smoothly, but she’s interrupted by Audey eagerly beaming towards her.
“Oh, what a dear! Cam, if anyone else in this whole city came up to me with a human girl I’d be absolutely dumbfounded, but this makes complete sense. You’re just quick like that, my boy. Always on top of the trends.”
Risa frowns, not aware that finding a human who crash-landed on your planet was considered a popular trend. Cam looks as if he’s trying not to laugh, and quickly steers Audrey’s attention back to him by speaking up. “Actually, I was hoping you could do us a quick favor. This is Risa. She needs to meet up with some of her friends, but she’s on the run. You wouldn’t be able to help disguise her a little bit, would you?”
Audrey claps her hands together. “A project! I love it. How much can I do?”
“Very little,” Risa rushes to say. “I’m perfectly fine the way I am. I just don’t want to be immediately recognized, that’s all.”
A disappointed frown tugs Audrey’s fuschia lips down into a depressed crescent. “Are you sure? I would love to do a full makeover. It’s been so long since I had a willing customer.”
From the way she’s eyeing Risa, it’s unclear whether that means there haven’t been customers or that there haven’t been victims. Either way, Risa’s not entirely thrilled with it. She sends a pleading look towards Cam, but he just smiles placatingly. “This is a good thing, Risa. If the Juvey-cops are after you like you say, you need a disguise. Camouflage. To go incognito.”
Audrey nods, her head jerking up and down like a puppet on a string. “Very true, Cam. Very true. I’ll go get my things, sweetheart. You’ll be thrilled with the final look, I guarantee it.”
As Audrey disappears into the back of the shop again, Risa turns to Cam. “This is why we’re here? You wanted me to get a disguise?”
“That, and I wanted to say goodbye,” Cam says. His face is quiet, but the lights at his temple are a soft, somber blue. “I’m not coming back to the city when you leave.”
“You’re coming with us,” Risa says, trying not to sound surprised. “No, that makes perfect sense. I couldn’t just abandon you after you helped me like this.”
“I’m not coming with you,” Cam specifies. “I’m just going offworld.”
Risa frowns. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“All of the cyborgs in this city have tags embedded subcutaneously,” Cam says conversationally. “I believe I removed mine, but I can never be sure. I will not risk your endeavor by allowing them to track me while I travel with you. All I ask is for one pod so I can make my way in the worlds. I would like to see the galaxy. I can be a tourist. A traveler. An adventurer.”
Risa nods. “Of course. Anything.”
Cam turns to her with the most hopeful expression when she says this that Risa, for the first time all day, is quite grateful to see Audrey hurrying back into the room, arms laden with supplies. Risa takes the excuse of helping to take some of the products from Audrey to escape the soft, naked longing in Cam’s eyes, and when they’re finished setting everything out, Cam has managed to focus again.
Risa is steered into one of the high styling chairs under the room. Every time she moves, dust is sent showering to the floor beneath her, but Audrey seems not to notice. She bustles around Risa, peering at her face from a position so close that Risa can feel the cyborg’s breath hot on her cheeks. If the proximity weren’t unsettling enough, the fact that each inhale and exhale, no matter when Audrey is moving or speaking, is exactly the same duration, only adds fuel to the fire.
“I think I’ll touch up your hair,” Audrey announces at last. “Lighten it up a little, at least. You’d be surprised what a change of color and texture can do to transform somebody. And then we’ll probably do a pigment injection, too. Just in case.”
Risa freezes. “A what?”
“Pigment injection,” Audrey says crisply, picking up a syringe from the pile of goods she’s assembled and waving it happily at Risa. “It’ll change your eye color. Loads of people have it done.”
Risa wants to ask whether that means actual human beings or cyborgs, because the difference is quite important to her. The syringe looks nasty, with the tip bearing at least a dozen miniscule needles arranged in a circle.
She swallows faintly. “What about if we just do the hair?”
“Nonsense,” Audrey says breezily. “You want to be disguised, don’t you? This’ll work like a charm.”
Risa glances at Cam for backup, but he’s wandered off to the far side of the salon, peering with great interest at a panel of old styling holos. So much for sticking by her no matter what.
Audrey hovers right in front of her, flesh and metal fingers curled so tightly around the handle of a hairbrush that Risa is stunned it hasn’t snapped off yet. “Can I start then, dearie? Can I start?”
Risa nods, but Audrey remains in place, practically vibrating from tension. “Yes,” Risa says, when it becomes clear that Audrey is waiting for approval, “You can start. Go ahead.”
The cyborg sags forward in relief. “Thank you, dearie. Thank you.”
And so begins the strangest makeover of Risa’s life. Technically, it’s the only makeover of Risa’s life, but even without prior experience Risa knows this is uncommon. All of Audrey’s tools bear the marks of age; the brushes are all missing bristles, the combs have teeth knocked out of them like they’ve lost a fight, and even the blow dryer has to be whacked repeatedly against the table before it turns on all the way.
Audrey’s hands shake the whole time, no matter how the cyborg tries to contain herself. At first, Risa is afraid for her hair, but it becomes clear that even with the loss of motor control, Audrey’s makeover skills are nothing to doubt. Even still, receiving the pigment injection takes more than a little bit of trust on Risa’s end.
At the end, though, Audrey wheels Risa’s chair around to face one of the cracked mirrors and Risa is greeted with the sight of a figure that logically has to be Risa but seems like a different girl altogether. The reflection’s hair is lighter, closer to auburn, and falls in highlighted curls past her shoulders. Her eyes are green, but not piercing. The shade oddly reminds Risa of the lights on Cam’s temple when he’s pleased about something, which is a comparison she probably shouldn’t have made, but she can’t help it.
Audrey is poised by Risa’s shoulder, grinning hopefully. “What do you think?”
“It’s lovely,” Risa says honestly. “You’re excellent at this.”
Audrey beams proudly. “Oh, you’re too sweet. I can tell why you and Cam get along.”
Upon hearing his name, Cam wanders back over to rejoin the group. He stares at Risa’s changed countenance, mumbling the expected compliments to Audrey’s labor when asked but refusing to look away. Risa feels her cheeks heat up and breaks the staring contest first by gazing pointedly at the ground until he turns away.
Audrey claps her hands together, sending a low metallic thunk through the quiet salon. “That was so much fun! Cam, dear, you’re next. What’ll it be?”
Cam laughs, the sound clipped and punctual. “I don’t need anything, Audrey. I think we’ll be on our way now, actually.”
Audrey’s face falls. “Really? I can’t convince you to stay any longer? At least tell me you’ll be back soon. I miss your company whenever you’re out.”
The cyborg’s hands sag by her sides, and Risa can’t help but feel a rush of compassion for her. Looking at Audrey in the middle of this desiccating salon, she’s forcefully reminded again of an abandoned dollhouse. Audrey has been placed here with her disintegrating tools and products, a stylist with no clients on a planet with no escape. At some point, the last of her mechanical parts will fail her, and then the salon owner will join the salon in the empty ashes of what had once been a grand experiment.
Cam’s smile is only a smile in name, his eyes bleak and despairing. “Of course, Audrey. I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Audrey assures him, “I’ll just tend to the other clients, then.”
The worst part is that she’s not even sarcastic, but genuinely hopeful that there will soon be others. It hasn’t occurred to her yet that no one else is coming. It hasn’t occurred to her that no one ever will.
Cam takes one last despairing look around him, then ushers Risa out of the salon and into the cold air of the city once more. Even when they’re out of Audrey’s lonely clutches, though, the grief on Cam’s face refuses to lessen.
“She’s been getting worse as of late, but Audrey has always been a good friend to me,” he whispers. Cam glances back at the shop behind them a few times as they go, like he’s trying to convince himself not to return.
“And she’ll still be your friend,” Risa says soothingly. “No one would blame you for wanting to leave. If she knew, she would be happy for you.”
Cam’s expression drops. “Would she?”
Risa can’t answer that, so she waits for them to cross the street before changing the subject. “So, how did Audrey come to be in charge of the salon? Are there other stylists in the area? How’s the competition?”
Cam doesn’t laugh, but the lights at his temple shift from desolate gray to a lighter yellow. “No one else, just Audrey. We were all put here with a task in mind. There’s a doctor, a teacher, a baker. They made the streets and shops and made cyborgs for each task. They wanted to make a real town, and that needs a lot of different types of people.”
Risa glances around at the shuttered windows and locked doors. “I can see that. Where’s your place?”
“I don’t have one,” Cam says coldly. “This isn’t my home.”
Risa frowns. “I don’t get it. If you take care of the others like this, and you’ve got friends like Audrey, why wouldn’t you stay in the city all the time?”
Cam’s face twists. “They don’t like me as much,” he admits. “Said I was too different. Too human.” From the way he says it, Risa can tell it’s not a good thing. “They let me visit in short intervals, but they always get uneasy when I stay too long. I think I remind them too much of the scientists.”
What a terrible fate. Not human enough for the scientists to stay. Too human for the other cyborgs to want him around. Constantly bouncing back and forth between the city and the outskirts, allowed to stay only to help but never to linger. No wonder he wants to leave; Risa is surprised he even takes care of the others despite them consistently rejecting him. That shows his humanity more than anything.
“Well,” she says slowly, “It’s a good thing we’re getting out of here, isn’t it?”
Cam’s lips start to prick up again. “It is.”
They make it to the lab buildings at last. Cam shows her how to sneak in through a back entrance. Although most of the other structures in the area have been pillaged for spare parts, the lab complex is almost pristine save for a thick layer of dust covering anything. Cam tells her that the other cyborgs are afraid of what happened within these walls, which keeps out intruders. It’s a good sign for the two of them, although there’s no guarantee that anything in here actually works.
They search the building methodically for some sort of comms center, anything that might be capable of producing a transmission that could travel beyond the reaches of this star system. It takes at least an hour or two, but eventually they track down a room filled with banks of equipment. Risa’s no expert on communication systems, but after all the time she’s spent around Hayden, her knowledge is at least passable, and that’s good enough for her.
Risa pauses before she begins her transmission. “How do I know this won’t just bring the Juvey-cops down on our heads? They’re probably scouring the galaxy for kids from the Graveyard.”
Cam tilts his head to the side, considering this. “You said that your friend Hayden did a lot of work with communications. Did he have a channel he used? A signal, just for him? If you know the code, we can put it in and send transmissions only on its line. Connor could pick it up too if he remembers it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Risa muses. It takes her a little bit to remember Hayden’s signal, but she manages to plug in the necessary codes soon enough. After that, all that’s left to do is record.
Risa raises the receiver to her lips, breathes out slowly, and presses a button to start. “Hey, Connor. This is Risa. If you can hear me– well, you’re alive, and that’s a relief. I made it out, but I’m stuck on a planet somewhere near the Graveyard. My pod was damaged and I can’t leave, but I can’t stay here, either. I don’t know your situation, but I need you, Connor. I’m on–”
She pauses for a moment, turning to Cam, who’s doing his best to seem as if he isn’t hovering on her every word. “Where are we, again?”
“Molokai,” he supplies. “Outer edge of the H-I star sector.”
Risa flashes him a grateful smile, which Cam eagerly reciprocates, then repeats the name into the receiver. “I’m on Molokai. Find me, Connor. Please.”
Risa stalls on the line, trying to think of something, anything else to say, but the words don’t come. She has no use for long, extended sentences. Either Connor is out there somewhere, alive and able to find her, or she’ll never see him again. Regardless, one more paragraph from her isn’t going to affect either of them all that much.
She presses the button to end the transmission with one trembling finger. Wherever he is, she hopes that Connor can hear her. Maybe he’s coming. Maybe, after all of this time, she can still have him. Only time will tell.
a/n sorry again for the delay, hope you enjoy this chapter! aaa i have been waiting to write about cam FOREVER i was looking forward to this since like chapter three lmao
unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @sirofreak, @locke-writes
#unwind#unwind imagines#unwind oneshot#unwind series#unwind dystology#unwind dystology imagines#unwind dystology oneshot#unwind dystology series#unwind dystology fanfic#unwind fanfic#connor lassiter#connor lassiter imagines#connor lassiter oneshot#connor lassiter series#connor lassiter fanfic#risa ward#risa ward imagines#risa ward oneshot#risa ward series#risa ward fanfic#conrisa#conrisa imagines#conrisa oneshot#conrisa series#conrisa fanfic#connor lassiter x risa ward#connor x risa#space au#outer space au#unwind space au
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⚠️body horror, undivided spoilers⚠️
hey i took requests on my tiktok @uninterestingsoup and i would like yall to look at them <3
#body horror#disfigured#unwind dystology#unwind art#unwind series#neal shusterman#mason starkey#risa ward#connor lassiter#argent skinner#hayden upchurch#lev calder#lev garrity#MY ART#unwind
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“I know how you feel now.”
“Thank you,” She whispers. “And I’m sorry.”
You can read the chapter this scene comes from here, or you can read the summarized version here.
#unwind dystology#unwind#unwind fanfic#roland taggart#sequel fic#unwind series#art#character art#risa ward
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Recalled • Part 5 • 40 - Connor Robert
Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 5 Masterlist • Next
It’s a cold morning in Marseille, Robert wakes up entangled with Risa. As he shifts around she groans as he tries to get out of her grasp. “Don’t they have rations for another day?” She murmurs.
“I think, but I’d better check on them anyway.”
Risa still has a tight grip on him. “Please stay, just one more hour.”
Robert nods, laying back down with her. “But only for another hour.” He uses his hand to brush away her wavy hair from her face, her pretty green eyes barely opened as they look back at him.
Running an unwind-safe house isn’t all that easy, especially when you yourself have an unwind part. Some days Robert doesn’t even notice Roland’s arm anymore, and some days he does because of the AWOLs. Risa usually has to come down and lull them back into silence, explaining that he never wanted that arm.
Robert lifts right arm in the air, staring at the shark tattoo above him. “What’s on your mind?” Risa asks him.
“Nothing really,” he takes a breath, looking over at her again. “Have you been looking at the news from America lately?”
“Yes, have you?”
“I haven't really been trying to look at it.”
Risa hums as she lays Robert against her chest. “They’ve been making a lot of rewinds lately, they’ve got two StaHos full of them.”
“Oh, more Cams.” Robert grunts and Risa elbows him in the side. “There’s always been a lot of Cams, didn’t you hear about the army of them on Molokaï?” Robert simply huffs at her.
“They’ve also got Recalls now.” She adds.
“What’s the difference?”
“They're just made of one person, like you, and they get adopted back into their families.”
Robert shifts his head off her chest so he can face her.
“According to Recall class types,” She continues. “You’d be a Stable Recall.”
“What’s the other ones?” He asks.
“There’s just one other, Modified, they’re called that because a lot of their parts were missing when they were being built, they used the Biobuilder to get them all back in one piece.”
Robert looks down to his right arm. “I’m lucky someone like you will never be recalled.”
Risa laughs. “Well it has been around two years hasn’t it?” Her face straightens. “Even then if he was recalled, it’s not like we’d ever see him again.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Robert gets off Risa, he picks up his phone to see if there’s anything new going on in politics.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” He starts
“What is it?”
“There’s been a voicemail sitting on here for three months now.”
“And?”
“I’m scared to open it.”
“Oh for goodness sake Co- Robert, it’s probably just a telemarketer!” Risa groans, whenever she’s angry or upset with him she has the knack to almost call him Connor.
“I know, I just,”
“Would you like me to listen to it with you?”
“Yes please.”
Robert sets the phone down between them as he puts in the password the voicemail starts with a familiar voice.
“Vous avez 1 nouveau message. ‘Hi Con-Robert, Robert, It’s me, Hayden, I’m not actually in France like the unknown number location might give you, I didn't want any of us to be charged. Anyway, I found you!’ The voice says in an almost sing-song way, ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t easy finding you, you covered your ass very well, anywho, nice catching up! Bye!’ Si vous voulez sauvegarder le message pesser 7, si voulez supprimer le message pesser 1.”
Robert looks up at Risa with a face of pure dread. “Some, someone found us.” He stutters. Risa holds onto him as he quivers. “Someone found us.” He repeats, and Risa combs through his hair, “But isn’t that someone Hayden.” She cooed.
“Risa, it doesn’t matter! Someone found us!” He keeps repeating.
Risa hushes him, “Robert, if that message has been sitting on there for three months I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, besides, it’s high time someone would be curious enough to wonder where we went.” Risa lays him back down in bed, covering him with the blanket. “You stay here, I’ll go check on the kids today.” She tells him. Robert stares at the ceiling as he hears Risa leave. He should be more confident in her, but she’s not a double agent like Trace was; she doesn’t have intel on the government, and she doesn’t know what they’re thinking. For all they know, his opening of that voicemail could have sent off a hint as to where he was.
Robert hears a knock on the door before it’s opened, he sits up in bed to the sight of Lucas; his eyes encompassed in black makeup.
“Are we doing anything today?” He asks his little brother.
Lucas shakes his head “Nah, just felt like putting makeup on.” He leans against the doorway. “Gotta second?”
Robert cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah, why?
“I’ve got something to show you.” He turns around heading to his room as Robert gets up to follow him.
Once in his room, Lucas hands him over a pamphlet. “When the social worker came in today, she handed that over to our parents while gesturing to me.” Lucas comments. Robert reads over the pamphlet Jack’s Canadian Camp, Robert looks up at Lucas. “I don’t get it.”
“Flip it over and look at its sponsors,” Lucas orders him.
Robert looks at the back, among many generic camp sponsors including a fast food franchise there sits a lone oddity at the bottom. ‘In cooperation with Canada’s free-range camps.’ It reads.
“Pfft, what’s a free-range camp, like, what’s its opposite, a harvest camp?” Robert laughs, Lucas shakes his head. “It is a type of harvest camp, Robert.”
Robert coughs on his own spit. “Huh?!”
“From the research I’ve done, you can either sign up your kid for it like it’s a regular camp, or you can send them there to be unwound, and they won’t even know you’ve signed an order for them until they’re on the table.”
Robert turns around facing the wall, his forehead and left hand pressed against it. Who’s sick, twisted, mind came up with these places, not knowing you’ll be unwound until it’s already happening? But maybe that’s considered a better place than Divan’s black market plane. Lucas sighs.
“You’ll be happy to know it’s the last of its kind. All the others have been turned into actual summer camps or they became the usual kind of harvest camp.”
Robert’s forehead is still pressed against the wall. “Why haven’t all Harvest Camps become like that?”
“I looked that up too, worse merchandise, both mentally and physically.”
The merchandise, the children, the money, of course, that’s all they care about. If people really wanted all of this, they should all be raised as tithes. Then nothing would matter anymore, they could get away with all of this.
“I don’t mean to break your moody internal monologue, but, do you think that the social worker wanted to be done away with me?” Lucas pipes up.
Robert stops zoning out, he looks over to Lucas, waving his hand at him. “You are out of the ordinary, there’s no doubt that some people would unwind you if you were their teenager,” He pauses. “I don’t think our parents would ever consider it, I think they learned their lesson.”
Lucas looks doubtful. “And if they didn’t?”
“I’d disown them again, and never accept their apology.”
Robert looks down at the pamphlet. “At the end of summer huh?” Robert is not an old soul like Sonia was, AWOL rearing doesn’t seem like much of his forte right now, but maybe when he’s older. When he grows weaker and can be seen as nothing more than an old innocent man.
“Nah, you won’t be going here, but I will.”
“Connor…” Lucas starts.
Robert gives him a dirty look. “Not like that, and don’t call me that either!”
“So then why would you go there?”
“To get a point straight one last time, and well, to look like I’m doing something. I’m pretty sure the social worker thinks I’m a NEET.”
“You sound like that one guy covered in unwind names that stripped naked and started clapping.”
“Lev, that’s Lev.” He says bluntly.
“You were friends with that guy?”
“Still am.” Robert snaps, annoyed.
“Right, but you‘ll never see him again?”
Robert frowns, “Maybe I’ll write to him someday, you never know.”
“And when will that be?”
Robert sighs, flailing his arms at Lucas. “A lot of places are vetoing unwinding, maybe Europe will veto it soon.”
“Sooner,” Lucas smirks. “Or later.”
Robert scowls, annoyed by his brother. “You’re just a pessimistic sad sack aren’t you?” Robert walks out of Lucas’ room, taking the pamphlet in hand. “I’ll be showing Risa this, I’ll see what she thinks about it.” He waves the pamphlet at him just before closing his door.
Robert heads downstairs, out the back door that leads to the insulated hatch of the basement. Robert opens the hatch and heads downstairs, closing the hatch as he goes lower. The basement is fully finished with a few closed-in areas, it had to be, or else they couldn’t run this safe house like a foster home. Robert was surprised it worked out, as long as the kids received different names, no one batted an eye to it.
Risa comes up to him, “I was right, they’ve got enough rations.”
Robert looks at the girl who sits in the corner, she always sits in the corner, staring into it.
“I’ve heard her talking recently, she only talks to Justin.” Risa exclaims, catching his glance.
Robert looks at over Justin, Justin reminds Robert a lot of Roland, he constantly calls Robert a piece of shit. Yet, there’s no creep factor to Justin, he’s just angsty.
“Si tu la touches je vais te donner un coup de poing!” Robert threatens him.
“Pourquoi je la toucherais? Je n'y vois aucun intérêt.” Justin responds, at least he has no interest in her, unlike Roland had with Risa.
“Can I speak to you for a moment?” Robert asks Risa, she nods. They head out of the basement onto the dock behind the house. Robert hands her the pamphlet. “It looks like a summer camp, but it’s actually a harvest camp.” He explains, she gasps. “That’s so much false advertising, do you think it’s so that kids just think they’re going to a normal camp?”
“Oh, they will, because it’s free-range, they won’t know their parents have signed an order until they’re already on the surgical table.”
Risa clutches the pamphlet in both hands. “This is ridiculous! At least we knew at the harvest camp we were being unwound!”
“I know,” Robert mutters.
They sit in silence for a while until Robert puts his hand on Risa’s shoulder.
“It’s the last of its kind Risa, after that those free-range camps are gone,” He pauses. “Would you do me the honour of wreaking havoc with me one last time?”
Risa chuckles. “You sound like you’re trying to propose to me.”
“Well, I am proposing something.”
Risa looks down at the shoreline, smiling. “So, you’d be willing to travel again?”
“Hey, I mean, we’ve been able to properly immigrate here. Besides, if people see me, they’ll only recognize me as one of Les Frères Saltries.”
Risa sighs. “I suppose Mademoiselle Wion can go with Robert Saltries to destroy one last chop shop.”
Robert holds Risa in his arms and kisses her on the forehead, thanking her.
#unwind#unwind dystology#unwind fanfic#unwind series#sequel fic#connor lassiter#hayden upchurch#risa ward
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Just in case anyone was curious, Taylor Russell (Judy Robinson from Lost in Space) is my Risa Ward head canon for the Unwind series.
Thanks for coming to my ted talk.
#Risa Ward#Unwind#neal shusterman#Taylor Russell#The unwind series#Unwholly#Undivided#Unstrung#Unsouled#fancast
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#gen6lily#sims 4 legacy#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 legacy challenge#sims 4 simblr#sims 4 maxis match#sims 4 screenshots#sims 4 challenge#sims 4#sims 4 cats and dogs#lily anguiano#risa ward#unwind series
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In a perfect world everything would be either black or white, right or wrong, and everyone would know the difference. But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is.
Unwind - Neal Shusterman
#unwind#neal shusterman#books#quote#book quote#public library#series#part of a series#first in a series#book 1#unwind dystology#unwind series#dystology#lev calder#connor lassiter#risa ward#akron#ohio#akron ohio#scottsburg#indiana#scottsburg indiana#young adult#ya#science fiction#scifi#dystopia#fiction#fantasy#horror
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