Rebirth
Christopher S. Case
07.16.09

Looking up as the red haze of pain lifted slightly, she saw her brother standing over her, blood dripping from his blade. She felt a strange tickling as her warm blood flowed from the wound in her neck. Unable to speak, all she could do was look up at him, the hatred burning in her eyes.

“You’ll be much more useful to me like this, dear sister.” The man laughed, the sound feeling further and further away as she slowly bled to death. The haze was gone, replaced by a black mist clawing at the edge of her vision. Quickly it crept further, threatening to blind her entirely. That bastard hasn’t even left me enough of a throat to respond. The hatred still burning in her eyes, she died. Lizbeth Locke died.

It was with a healthy dose of anger that she awoke 12 hours later, her shirt stiff with her own blood. Her sadistic sibling was nowhere in sight. She half expected him to be standing over her still, gloating. She'd gotten used to the sick enjoyment he took every time he killed her, but he typically refrained unless there were some reason for it.

Looking around, Liz quickly realized she’d been moved. Instead of the private quarters in which she’d planned to spend an evening with a very young and impressionable female ensign, she was greeted by the ugly gray and rust colored walls of what could only be the least attractive civilian craft within a thousand light years.  This was not the evening she had planned, and she intended to make someone pay for it. He knew I wouldn't come willingly.

“Honestly, sister, I find it impressive how easily you shrug off death. I doubt even I could treat it with such aplomb.”

Turning to face her brother, it was all she could do to keep from slamming his head into the nearest bulkhead. “I could always kill you a few hundred times until you got used to it.”

“Unlike you, I would not return after the first time. I am loath to end my existence for your mere pleasure. After all, what would this universe be without me?” Amusement danced in his eyes.

“Oh, yes. What would this universe be without a sociopathic serial killer with multiple personalities and the power to project them as real people? How could we ever cope?”

“Enough. You don’t seem to appreciate the gift I’ve given you. It is because of me you exist. Remember that.”

Liz stood there, hating him, and he hating her. After enough silence had passed, she shoved him roughly out of the way and headed into the ship. Neither her mood, nor her impression of the ship improved.

The room she had awoken in must have been what passed for a ‘common area’. Through the doorway Liz found a narrow corridor where she had to duck or risk impaling her head on one of the several hanging pipes or broken light fixtures overhead. Moving forward, she saw a single, dingy set of quarters to her right and then a small staircase at the end of the corridor. The metal stairs spiraled 180 degrees to a cramped, utilitarian cockpit. She was surprised it even had room for two people. After sitting in the copilot’s chair, she wasn’t sure it did.

Determined not to pay her brother any attention, she completely ignored him as he entered a few minutes later. He sat down in the pilot’s chair, closed his eyes, and completely ignored her as well. After the mutual silence had stretched for several hours, Lizbeth’s anger had cooled enough.

“So, why did you collect me?”

The light of the controls gave his face an even more sinister appearance then normal. “I wished your help in doing some shopping.” A feral look passed across his face like a shadow.

“Shopping? You killed me for shopping?!”

“More precisely, I brought you here because an …individual… recently recovered my most prized possession.”

Liz froze. Her brother, Jonathan Simon, had been alive for over 250 years. When he had been in his late 20s, he was declared the most gruesome serial killer since Jack the Ripper. All of his famous murders had been performed with a single weapon. Four hundred murders, each one personal, each one with that weapon. It was the only thing to ever be taken from him unwillingly. “Your cane.”

“My cane.” The shadow stayed on his face this time, subtly turning it into a feral sneer.

“Shit.” Liz shook her head. If he had that… she didn’t know what would happen. Would he start a new round of killings? Or would the Overseers’ leash prevent that? “No, Simon. I can’t-“

“Lizbeth. You mistake my command for a request. After all, I’ve been told to retrieve this by my… keepers.”

This made no sense. They had been the ones to take it from him in the first place. “But, why would they-”

“Because even I have admirers; those who seek to follow in my footsteps. Can you suffer another to walk down my path? You, sister, who knew me as I once was?” As he spoke, his face softened and her brother, Jonathan, shone through for just an instant. Then, the feral look was back, his grin deeper.

“N-no. I guess I can’t.” Not being able to bear the look on his face, Liz turned away, choosing to let the silence stand as her personal memorial to the brother who was.

***

As stations went, Liz felt this one had a kinship with the ship Simon had stolen that was not entirely wholesome. What seemed even more incredible to her was the fact that from all external signs, it was a bustling port of call for at least two dozen other ships. Originally, the station had been Terran built; the boxy utilitarianism had granted it a unique pattern of decay that the patchwork repairs had simply emphasized. Had the circumstances been different, she would have arranged for this floating ball of death and rust to be thrown into the sun. As it was, she still thought it the most prudent course of action.

As they left the docking area, Liz let the humanity of the place surround her, consume her. She could feel every being on the station on such a basic level that the feeling transcended both pain and pleasure. It simply was, and Liz had ceased trying to explain it, even to herself. It’s a pity so many of them will have to die. The thought entered her mind and left so quickly she was not entirely sure it was hers. She often could sense the future but normally it did not form complete thoughts. There was something odd, something off about this station, and its inhabitants. It must be my proximity to Simon. This was why she had always made it a point to avoid him as much as possible. Feeling vaguely uneasy, Liz followed Simon through the mass of existence to the lower levels of the station.

They approached a rusted looking cargo door with a shiny, new lock. Liz made a move to examine the lock, but paused as Simon held out his hand. “Getting in will be the easy part. However, judging from the size of the individuals above us, this will quickly turn into a bloodbath. Please, don’t get queasy.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “I don’t get queasy. Though, if this is going to be a bloodbath, why not kill everyone in one go? I’ve seen what you can do to a room of people.” She shuddered remembering not once, but the two times he’d slaughtered a room full of people in an instant. She didn't know why she was goading him to do it now, bu there was something about the way he assumed there would be a slaughter...

“Dear sister, you have never understood. To you, killing is a necessary evil, something you do to achieve an end. For me, the means and the end are one and the same. I savor every death, treasure every murder. It is not the death, but the means of death that matters.”

Taking a deep breath Liz pointed to the security lock. “The door?”

“Ah, let me.” Simon stepped over to the lock and started examining it. He pressed a few buttons and then paused. Frustrated Liz started to speak, but Simon glared at her. Pulling out a dagger, he pried the casing off the lock’s panel. With mounting anger, Liz watched as Simon continued his examination. He slid his dagger along two contacts, and the lock clicked open.

“Finally.” Liz stepped to the door and opened it. The dark room beyond echoed like a tomb. Turning to Simon she asked, “You coming?”

Simon shook his head. “It would be better if I stayed out here.”

Shrugging, Liz entered the room. She didn’t know what to expect, but somehow, the cavernous echoes and general silence felt anticlimactic. In the center of the room was a single chair on which was resting a velvet lined case, large enough to hold a cane. The case had been left opened, telling Liz that she was not alone in the room.

To her left, the sound of a cane against the metal floor broke the silence. The noise moved, just inside the gloom, circling. “Who are you?” Each word was over pronounced. The voice was young; its speaker couldn’t be older then 19.

“A collector. I’ve come to collect that cane.” Liz tried to keep her voice even.

“Foolish girl. Presumptuous. Arrogant.”

Liz bit back her first impulse. This boy could never be a threat to her, but if he learned to cherish violence or killing… Simon was right, she couldn’t let another walk his path. She couldn’t risk what a violent reaction might do.
“Then please come out where I can see you. Maybe we can work something out.”

“Do you know who I am?” From the shadows to her right, a young man, dressed in black with bright red hair stepped forward. “I, my poor deluded girl, am Jonathan Simon.”

“You are nothing of the sort, you impudent whelp.” Right behind the boy Simon appeared, holding a small, wicked-looking dagger to the imposter’s throat. “Now, I shall take what is mine and we shall end this foolishness.”

Simon reached around, snatching the cane and then releasing the boy. He sheathed the dagger inside his overcoat and then rested on the cane slightly. The sight of him standing there, with the cane, sent shivers down her spine.

The boy, having been released, whirled on his assailant, then froze. “You. No, you're… you’re dead!” His face twisted, and his voice lowered. “How did you cheat death?”

It was the last statement that snapped Liz back to reality. The look on his face, the fervor in his voice. She knew it. She’d seen it. Watched it consume the last few morsels of decency left in the human soul. Not just Simon, but others, too. So many others had given into that lust, that monster. She heard its voice in the boy’s now. He was not innocent. He had killed… and would kill again.

Simon looked at the boy, disgust tainting his expression. “Find your own answers.” With that, he turned his back to them and walked towards the door. He did not pause, but his voice carried through the room. “Lizbeth. Come.”

A single shot rang out, echoing off the walls of the room, slowly fading to a whisper. Simon stopped, shock on his face. The boy slumped, inhaled a final time, and then fell to the ground, the wound in his chest still smoking. Lizbeth holstered her pistol, but stood perfectly still.

“Perhaps, sister, you do understand. Or was this simply another end for you?”

“It is you who do not understand. Sometimes neither the means nor the ends matter. Sometimes death simply is.”

“Let us not belabor the point. I believe we have stirred the hive. Curious, what are the chances of a single station being populated by individuals trained to kill Focus users?”

Liz walked casually to his side. “Impossible. No one knows about Focus. Except those trained by the Overseers.”

“Trap, then?” Simon looked at his sister with a hint of excitement pulling at his lips.

“Trap.” Liz drew both her pistols.

“Excellent.” In perfect unison, Simon and Liz headed toward the upper levels of the station.

***

The charade was lifted. Liz stood on the threshold of the upper level. Its occupants were no longer milling about, pretending to be people they were not. She could easily tell which were the assassins, Overseer trained agents, groomed to take down Rogues. The others… they were puppets. The blank rage in their eyes, the hollow nothingness in their stance… they were cattle. Fodder for the battle about to take place.

It was painfully obvious what had happened. An Overseer had to be the one pulling the strings. That meant-

“So, my leash has been cut, eh? You have let the starving dog loose at a child’s birthday party. Why, I wonder? What purpose would my slaughtering every living thing on this station serve?” Simon laughed, stepping into the room, calling out to no one. “Do you call this subtlety? Your intentions are clear. You have released me so that I may be put down? Why?”

A voice rose from out of nowhere. It wrapped around the siblings like a warm breeze. There was no malice in the voice. “I have seen the destruction you wrought. Years from now it is you who unravel our plans, you who destroy us from the inside. So long as you remain in our fosterage, you will destroy us. All of us.”

“Really? I feel rather disappointed. I won’t be able to gloat to anyone at the end of everything. I suppose I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.”

The first blow was struck by the puppet nearest Simon. He took the hit, rolling with it, and then kicked up hard, shattering the woman’s jaw. Shots rang out, and both Liz and Simon stepped onto a battlefield with two fronts. There were the physical concerns, blows, gunshots, movement. Then there was the battle of Focus. Will versus Will. The assassins were not trained to face a Focus user of Simon’s power. However, there were enough of them to take him down. And then, there was Lizbeth. She had always been unique; impossible for even the Overseers to classify. They had trained her to use Focus, and Simon had trained her to resist their control. Not even she knew what that meant here.

Taking aim, Liz fired at the nearest puppet. She fired at the next before the first had even hit the ground. She continued taking aim, while doing her best to stay near Simon. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized he had yet to use his cane. He was still fighting with just his dagger and Focus. She wanted to yell to him, tell him to stop treating this as a game, but she realized it would do her no good. And, for Simon, this really is a game. A game with high stakes, but hell, he’s been leashed for two hundred years. I doubt there’s a force in the universe that could keep him from enjoying himself now.

Simon quickly cleared the nearest puppets to him, and made a line straight for the first of the assassins.  It was actually a group of three; enough that Liz decided Simon could use her help. She dropped the puppets between them, and was by his side before he’d closed the gap.  Simon and Liz closed to within a few feet, then in a single fluid movement, both of them struck. Simon slammed his cane to the ground, ejecting its handle, to reveal a straight, simple blade. Plucking the blade out of mid air, he brandished it in his left hand and swung, connecting with the nearest of the assassins, and cleaving off half of the man’s jaw, before bringing the blade down again, removing the man’s head from his neck. In the same moment, Liz leapt into the air, wrapping her feet around the nearest assassin’s head, knocking him backwards, and firing both of her pistols right into the man’s skull. Landing, she rolled, and came up, her guns pointing at the base of the third assassin’s skull. She fired as the same time Simon swung, the man’s chest erupting from Simon’s blow in the same moment Liz’s shot turned his skull into a red mist. Both Simon and Liz followed through with their movements, ending with their backs to each other, and the entirety of the station standing there, waiting.

“It’s been a while, sister.” Liz could hear the smile in his voice.

“I doubt they appreciate just how difficult this is.” Liz smirked, taking aim again.

“What a pity. To die without any appreciation for the precision with which it was done. Ah, well.” With that, Simon and Liz both exploded from where they’d been standing, Liz in one direction and Simon in the other. Again, they cleaved their way through the crowd of assailants, meeting again at a group of assassins, destroying them, and then separating again. The pattern was predictable, but effective, and after an hour, Liz was finding herself getting lost in the ebb and flow of battle. Her shots were impeccable, her movements exact. Each attack led into the next, each step flowing from the last. She was unsure how many had died already, but they had covered at least two thirds of the original group. That was when the first real attack of Focus came.

Liz felt herself slipping, almost like the universe had suddenly become both hazy and made of ice at the same time. Steeling herself like she had trained, she pushed to hold on to the universe as it had been an instant ago. Somewhere at the corner of her consciousness, she felt Simon doing the same.  Pain threatened to break her concentration, as the puppet she had been about to shoot at managed to connect with the hunting knife in his hand. She felt the air sizzle next to her head, knowing another puppet had taken a shot and barely missed. Drawing into herself, Liz focused on the assault, letting her body flow through the movements it knew only too well, keeping her out of harm's way long enough for her mind to push back the assault. Feeling like it had lasted for an eternity, it ended and Liz snapped back, in time to see her foot shattering the jaw of the man with the hunting knife. Without looking, she fired a shot at the other who had fired at her, dropping him where he stood.

It took her a moment before looking over to Simon. She caught sight of his shirt, but to her horror, there was a pile of puppets on top of him, shooting, stabbing, biting, and rending into him. Before she had a chance to react, she heard a sound that sent chills down her spine. It was the giggle of a little girl, twisted, and demented. A black mist started to gather where Simon was, and in an instant, the mass of bodies exploded, body parts sizzling where they landed. Simon stood, covered in the dark mist, little bolts of electricity snapping inside. From the mist stepped a hollow faced girl, wearing a sun dress, and looking at everyone with a feral, hungry look.

Oh, shit. Abby. Liz knew the little girl, knew why Simon had summoned her. She was, like Liz, another of his constructs, though he could not form her with a complete history and existence, like he could Liz. Unlike Liz, however, she had actually existed once. Simon had killed her, shortly after his first murder. As with all his early murders, she became a part of him, a persona. Instead of retreating into his mind like the others, she had grown a taste for the killing, had become even more obsessed with it than Simon himself. She was terrifying, preferring to use her hands, nails and teeth in place of other weapons. He only would have summoned her if he meant to end this.

Simon’s voice rang out, low, but unnaturally clear. “I grow weary of this. You cannot harm me, and I can certainly destroy you. If you wish to finish this, we will, face to face, Overseer. But, your pets die.” With that, every single non-Focus user in the room screamed out in agony, as blood started to erupt from their limbs. In a moment, the screaming stopped, and there was nothing but mutilated pile of steaming entrails where human beings had once stood. It was only the assassins left, and Abby wasted no time in running straight for them. Liz watched in horror at the efficiency with which she ripped into them, ripping out throats, breaking necks, and shattering ribs. Liz felt them trying to ward her off with Focus, and had to smile grimly. Focus is useless against something born from it. They have grown so dependent on Focus that even a little girl can destroy them. They never stop to consider the simple fact that physically, any one of them could break her neck. Not that she’d let them, but still. It doesn’t occur to them to even try.

It was over in another few minutes. Still enshrouded with mist, Simon walked over to Abby, who put her arms around his leg, choosing to sit in a crouched position, rather then stand. Simon chuckled, placing his hand on her head, as she cooed softly, enjoying the attention. Liz shuddered, and then joined them.

“What, exactly, do you think is about to happen, Simon?” It was the Overseer’s voice, no longer disembodied, but coming from the doorway of a nearby shop. He stepped out, looking slightly saddened, his flat face looking even more flat with the expression he wore. Liz had always found the Overseers to be a taciturn looking race, their face looking completely incapable of a smile. Vaguely human in form, their four-fingered hands and slightly elongated heads looked almost comical. The robes he wore were dull in color, clashing with his warm, yellow white skin. He walked with a grace that spoke of his age. Liz did not know how many millennia this Overseer had lived, but their race had become immortal long before humanity’s sun had formed, so he had to be as old as that, at least.

“Why, I believe I’m going to kill you, and then walk away from here.” The mist hid Simon’s smile, but Liz could still hear it.

“In the last two centuries among us, have you learned nothing? You are like an infant, challenging the universe itself.” With that, he gestured to Simon. As if she were a mist in a strong breeze, Abby disappeared, seemingly pulled apart by some unseen force. Likewise, Simon’s mist was ripped from him, and he slumped to one knee, intense pain clouding his face. Liz could feel him fighting with every ounce of what he was simply to remain alive.

Simon was losing, that much she could tell. She felt the universe slipping again, knowing that if he died, she would cease to exist. Gathering herself, she tried to let go of the universe, give her Focus to Simon, let him unmake her, so he could concentrate on the battle. She felt a string shove, forcing her back into herself.

“Lizbeth…” It was all Simon could do to whisper her name. She looked at him, seeing the fierce pride on his face.

The Overseer, looked at her, and then at Simon. “She can do nothing to me, Simon. She will fade with you, your constructs finally removed from this world. She is but an echo, a whisper in existence. Why do you seek help from one with no substance?”

Simon barked a laugh, before it collapsed to a cough, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. “Did you and the others never wonder why she was the only one to form fully, completely, while all my other constructs were figments of existence? Did you never wonder what made her different?”

The Overseer frowned, unsure of what point Simon might be driving at. “She is the only of your constructs to never have existed. Instead of recreating someone who lived, you created someone new.”

“No, Overseer. She… exists. She exists. What no one knows, what no one suspects is the reason I became a killer. How could you not have marked the sudden turn I took? From complacent, mere human to… to a Focus user killing for pleasure. It’s simple… I was visited by a Jyse. The race that nearly destroyed yours, creatures of pure will, harboring eternal hatred for your kind. Sylvia, my love, opened my eyes to the universe.”

The Overseer struck out with his hand, and Simon fell to the floor. “You arrogant fool! Your sins are greater than I knew! The Jyse wanted to be gods, wanted to rule over all that exists. We, fools ourselves, awakened them, gave them bodies through talents such as yours, and they nearly destroyed us for it. If it had not been for the handful of Jyse that stood against their brethren, the universe would surely have perished!”

Simon laughed, nearly choking on his own blood.  “Sylvia was leader, ruler over all with her mate. Your kind took that from her. She found me, and asked I make her a body. When I tried… I failed. Perhaps she was too powerful for me. So, I searched for another, lesser Jyse. I found one… and there she stands.” Simon pointed at Liz, who shook her head. She’d learned the truth years ago, but it did nothing to help her separate herself from him. As powerful as her Jyse heritage was, not only could she use only the smallest fraction of it, even the most powerful Jyse had been unable to separate themselves from their creators. That was how the Overseers had managed to win their war.

Turning on her, the Overseer's body seemed to fade slightly. It took her a minute to realize he was now shrouded in his own mist, though much more subtle than the one Simon choose to don. “If what he says is true, then when I destroy him, you will be freed. I do not know if that will be for good, or for ill. Still, I believe destroying you would be a small task. You have not even begun to know your full potential. You must die, that we may live.”

“Lizbeth… he cannot touch you. Abby… and the… assassins… kill him, and save me…” Simon’s voice was barely audible between the gasps.

Liz ignored the Overseer, and knelt down by Simon. “He says your death will free me. If you’re both right, I can let you die, be free, and then kill him.” She looked at her brother with sadness in her eyes.

“I… promise I will release you… when we both are ready…” He looked imploringly at her. “..sister…”

Liz stood up, her eyes flashing a bright, unnatural blue. “My brother may be many things. Serial killer, sadist, and he might single-handedly bring the apocalypse upon us all. But until that happens, he is my brother, and I will be damned if anyone takes away his chance at redemption.”

“Your brother will never be redeemed! I tire of this insanity. You both will die!” He lashed out, and Liz stood there, against an onslaught of Focus so strong she felt as if the entire universe were bearing down against her. She braced herself, and stood. When it was over, her clothes were torn, she had a long gash down her right cheek, and she suspected several of her ribs her now cracked. Still, she was standing.

“I’ve always wondered. Do Overseers bleed?” With that her head and her guns came up, she took aim, and fired. The shots hit him square in the chest, and then seemed to disappear. The didn’t even singe his robes. Still, Liz was smiling.

“Fool. Do you think I wouldn’t protect myself from such crude weapons? Now, cease your struggle, and die!”

Liz turned her back to the Overseer, and started walking away. “Do you know what my specialty is, Overseer? It’s Time. I’ve always been able to use Focus to manipulate time. It’s why I appear to move so fast in battle. Curious thing, time. So fluid, so powerful. Did you know that I can shoot you, but wait until you’ve dropped your defenses for the shot to hit?” As she said that, the Overseer’s body jerked, and he fell to the floor, two bloody wounds appearing in his chest. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Liz didn’t look back, but kept walking, slowly to the ship. Before she reached it, Simon had appeared by her side, the worse for wear, but a triumphant smile on his face.

“There’s a war against them coming, you know.” Simon's voice was hoarse, and difficult to understand.

“I know. Humans have too much potential. They’re afraid we’ll fuck it all up.”

Simon seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Will we?”

Liz turned to him and grinned. “Probably.”

“It occurs to me… he said that so long as I was under the Overseer’s fosterage, I would bring about the end of everything.” Simon entered the lock code on the door of the ship.

“Yeah, so?”

Simon said nothing as he entered the ship. Then, pausing, he turned his head slightly. “It’s a pity I’m no longer under their fosterage, isn’t it?” With that, Simon continued to the cockpit, and Liz followed, unsure what to make of her brother’s response.