Chapter 2 “ Unnecessary Measures”
As the sun rises, it illuminates your face, the bright new dawn approaching. You lean back in your chair, stretching out your back. In your hands lies your masterpiece, your written heart.
The sun shoots out, rays glinting against your white mask. You reach for your glass on a stand next to you, and drink gratefully; A ringing sound fills the room, and you press the button on the beeping.
“Yes?” Your voice reaches your ears, smooth and silky.
“He has arrived, sir.”
You stand up, straightening your tie, and smoothing out your suit.
You walk to the door, and are greeted by the sight of a man clad in silver.
“ @Ghid .” He acknowledges, as he walks into the luxurious, but sparsely furnished room.
He walked over to the stand, before removing his
Helm, revealing a face, its skin tanned with the sunlight, his eyes chrome colored, and his hair short and choppy.
You sigh.
“So, what do you want?” You ask the gleaming figure.
“I’ve seen him again.” He replied gravely.
“ @Rukah , we’ve been over this. Oisli is dead.”
You say, frustrated and annoyed.
“He has been dead for a year now.”
Rukah taps his fingers on his helm, obviously impatient.
“And I continue to tell you he is far from dead.”
“Even is he was, why would that matter? We already have more important matters to attend.”
You sigh once more.
“ Fine. I’ll take precautions to ensure that a nonexistent person doesn’t hurt anybody.”
Rukah’s expression softened.
“Thank you.” He whispered, before leaving the room.
You press the button on the intercom.
“Please double security for the next two days.”
The intercom beeped back: “Acknowledged.”
Oisli’s death, was not a peaceful one.
You still remember his agonized face, as the blade had plunged into his gut, the blood spilled. Whose hands, was anyone’s guess.
He was strange, an odd person, whose tales were spun from the fragments of other peoples dreams, stories, and thoughts.
Eccentric as he was, no one deserved the death that was brought to him.
Even though he always wore that unnerving mask.
You take another look at your book, knowing that it was nearly finished.
It was the fourth.
So close.
You could die to the anticipation.
Suddenly, you hear a creak, and look towards the source, a crorner of the room, shadowed in. You shake your head. You must be hearing things.
“They’ll always forget, that is their flaw. Hopefully.” You mutter to yourself.
“You know they’ll forget. They always have. “ A voice said.
You quickly look up.
A figure slowly walks out of the tiny corner, into the light. Their body was metal, bearing no hint of flesh. The color being a dry gray color of steel, the only piece of color was the black mask attached to their face.
Their fingers long and slender, their eyes empty and robotic. Their body-frame strange, distorted.
“ You aren’t real.” You say forcefully. “ You’re dead, you’ve been dead for a long time.”
“And yet you haven’t forgotten, where others have.” The figure replied. Their voice was staticky, warped. It sound like something was broken.
“You have no clue how strange this feels. I was dead. But here I am, walking among the living. My body feels…strange, like something feels wrong, but still."
You narrow your eyes.
“Oisli, what are you here for?” You ask the dead man.
“I don’t k̵̢̛̮̟̬͖͍̰̓̄̄͗̅͒͊͘ṅ̵̢̡̨̙̺̟̺̱͎̣͔͕̹͗͆͊͋ó̶̳͚̪̥͈̭͉̰̺̱͕͔̲͈̽̄̈́̈́͐̄̅̓͜w̴̹̄̇̔͋̾̌͘ͅ. I just…walked here.” He replies. He looks deep at you, his eyes boring into you. “They’ve forgotten me.” He says mournfully. “The stories are gone.” He turns away from you.
“Things must be fixed.” he mutters, before snapping his fingers… and disappeared.