Mirrors & Reflections

"eh, Lass?" Prodded the dwarf. As Willaims discarded the unconscious drifter on a nearby cot. The bunker had been transformed from an empty storage room to a makeshift infirmary.

The village survivors all huddled together within that sanctuary.

When Willaims didn't respond and showed no intention of stopping, The old dwarf angrily waved the girl off with a disgruntled "Bah!.."

Williams, feeling like she just needed to 'go'. An indescribable urge to just walk away. She did just that. She didn't know where she would go, nor did she even really care. Just one foot after the other, a steady cadence to keep her mind from the intrusive thoughts that threatened to consume her.

The underground seemed deceptively more vast than she had ever expected it to be while living on the surface above. Surely in all that space, she'd find a corner of privacy. 

Regardless of the protest from the Reign. She left the bunker, leaving the mayor flustered and uncertain about her departure. She reminded herself, that she should probably apologize to the old Dwarf at some point. He was a good man and didn't deserve to be treated poorly. Even still, she figured the mayor was better suited to handle dealing with the stranger anyway and would do well enough without her. 

There was an intense pressure building and rising within her head. A muffling and dulling of her senses, An invisible vice squeezing in from all directions with a deafening roar of silence.  

She was barely holding on. 

Even Williams could see the signs of her own mental and emotional state deteriorating. It was all just too much, too much had happened, too much was still going on for her to continue to try to hold it all together.  

She had roamed the underground for what felt like hours. Sometimes becoming lost within the twist and turns of the labyrinth. So many of the tunnels looked identical, it was at times difficult to find her bearings. The cool and damp chill of the fluorescent darkness buzzing in and out of light helped distract her.

The storage tunnels below Brickfield had proven to be extensive and far more complex, many of the tunnels networked together and seemed much more than empty rooms and narrow tunnels she had always expected them to be.

The vastness of the underground was nearly overwhelming, so big that it made her feel small. To a smaller statured race, these tunnels must feel gigantic. It was hard not to acknowledge the sense of awe at the size and craftsmanship.

Sometimes the tunnels converged, forming unexpected or surprising connections and the occasional dead end. The whole network seemed surreal, stretching and sprawling on forever with each step she took.  

The flickering and buzz of the infrequent lighting hanging from the rickety old chassis on the ceiling gave the silent underground an eerie air to it. It created a sense of suspense that tickled the small hairs on the back of her neck.

An entire community could live within these tunnels if they had the proper provisions, support, and infrastructure. The thought did pass her mind and she found herself wondering why the ancient Dwarves had abandoned such an elaborate work.

She just needed a moment, some time alone. Someplace beyond the accusation and scrutinizing stares of the village survivors. She just wanted to cope with her new reality and the dreadful realization of what that meant.

'What the hell are these 'tunnels' actually for?' Williams found herself asking aloud, though she didn't expect an answer.

She didn't know and wondered if anyone did. Well, at least anyone with maybe the exemption of Reign. The old Dwarf was a stubborn sort that held his secrets close to heart and did not openly share the details of his past.  

Reign had lived here long before the first humans and vagabonds decided to settle in the ancient area and had naturally become the leader of the people. He had proven to be a good, just, and fair man.  

The people of Brickfield trusted him undoubtedly. Hell, most of the humans that lived in Brickfield, Reign had lived there and governed the village for generations of their families.

Odd that no one seemed to show any interest in the tunnels before, but as she explored them, could she still call them by such a simple description? The word tunnel just didn't invoke the majesty of the dwarfen craftsmanship.  

When asked, Reign would always scoff the question aside and give some excuse or another as to why they were unsuited for whatever it was.

Sometimes they may be used for surplus storage. Every so often a traveling merchant would need to store their wares and rest, in a place they'd know their wares would be safe.  

But someone, thought Williams, had considered these very tunnels necessary for something beyond storing rice and grain. It was evident in the structural design.  

Someone cared enough to keep the lights on. Though the more she dwelled on those thoughts, the more she was convinced that, that someone, most likely Reign.

The underground had remained primarily unused and largely forgotten for most of Brickfields' existence. Some passages as she roamed remained barred to her, with unfamiliar locks that seemed dwarven in their make.  

Williams roamed in that thick underground, illuminated by ancient florescent lights. The lights buzzed and chattered against the darkness, battering against their tin chassis. 

With only her thoughts of depression and loss there to accompany her, Willaims walked blindly until she found a room that appeared to be a washroom. 

There was a simple sink attached to the wall with a grime-covered, polished metallic mirror that showed a distorted reflection, and a broken toilet off to the right.

She tried the tap, turning the faucets on. She had half expected the rickety pipes to rattle to life against the water pressure. Instead, they squeaked as old and rusted metal things tend to do...

No water spilled from the pipes.  

They were dry as a bone.

"Fucking figures..." Williams cursed, letting out a heavy sigh.  

She just needed to feel the physical exertion of her frustration being released. So she gripped, squeezed, and flexed her muscles against that sink, straining her body with the effort. 

Anything to feel some sort of release from the pain she could not free herself from.

In a moment of frustration, she slammed her hands down against the sides of that sink and leaned onto it. Shakingly holding herself up as she leaned forward against the sink.

When she saw her broken reflection in that distorted mirror before her, without so much as a scratch on her face, something inside her just snapped.  

It was unfair!

She screamed a primal and painful scream, a sound born of desperation and fear. A fear that had tangled itself within the deepest pit of her stomach. Lodging itself firmly within the core of her soul.

When she finished wailing, her throat felt raw from the exertion. The mental exhaustion beginning to take its toll, it was heavy like a leaden blanket that rested firmly over her shoulders, constantly bearing its weight down on her.  

The strength in her legs finally ebbed away as she fell to her knees, her body crumbling and folding in on itself as she hugged and squeezed her arms with a savage grip.  

She slid herself under that sink, next to the broken toilet, Williams finally broke down as her back pressed against the cool and damp wall. She sobbed against the chilled comfort of that lonely darkness, feeling truly alone for the first time in years.

With her head in her arms under a bathroom sink, she felt a part of herself die. Her sobs haunt the echoing passageways of the underground for hours, but no one was there to hear them.

***

There was a sudden bright whiteness as his conscience finally came to. The bright fluorescent lights gradually dimmed as he lifted his hand to cover his eyes.

"Ugh...my head..." The Drifter mumbled.

Thomas groaned as he struggled to sit up, holding his head between his hands. To his relief, someone had removed the mask from his face when he was out cold on the cot.  

"Weres my hat?" questioned Thomas as he opened his eyes and took a look around the room. 

The leather western hat was sitting next to him on the cot. He grabbed it, fixing it back in place on his head.

An old Dwarf stood nearby when Thomas woke, his stout arms crossed over his broad and barreled chest. The Dwarf was staring at Thomas, with no small amount of judgment behind his brown eyes.

"Thanks..." Thomas mumbled, allowing his gaze to drift toward Reign.

Reign reached over to a nearby table surface and grabbed an old green military canteen.  

"Here," he said gruffly, thrusting the water in front of Thomas's face.

"Drink it."

Thomas looked up at the canteen and then to Reign with a clear look of suspicion. His throat was parched. The sound of that water inside the canteen was alluring. A drink was just what Thomas needed to soothe the agitation in his throat.  

Snatching it up, he drank deeply.

"Thanks...again," Thomas said, wiping water from his chin with his sleeve.

Reign grunted and gave a dismissive nod before asking his questions. His voice was an accented baritone. "So, Drifter, what the hell were you thinking?" 

"What do you mean?" asked Thomas, looking up to the Dwarf, offering up the Canteen.

Reign raised an eyebrow as he took the canteen from Thomas, placing it on the metallic tabletop nearby. 

"Standard practice where you're from? Blowing up a town's radio tower like no one going to notice? Hell son, That's a surefire way to attract attention."

Thomas shrugged. "I needed to buy myself some time to grab a package and get out of there. "I wasn't about to ride in the middle of a Meca infestation without some sort of plan to get the hell out. It didn't look like the Mecha had left any survivors...I, I just didn't know."

"And now?" Reign gestured to the room around them, filled with the moans and groans of the various injured. There was only a handful of villagers left alive.  

"How did that plan work out for you, son?" asked Reign, his tone loaded with heavy sarcasm and scorn.

"Well, it got me this wonderful audience," replied Thomas dryly. Getting a bit agitated by the somewhat condescending tone the Dwarf took with him.  "But, I still can't leave without the package I was sent for."

Reign snorted. 

"Seriously, that's what you are thinking about now? A gods-damned package? Look around ya' son! There are being bleed'n and dying before your eyes, and you care nothing of it?" 

"I had to take my chances; guild contracts don't take mecha infestations as a legitimate excuse for failure," said Thomas stubbornly. 

Reign shook his head. "You're lucky to be alive, kid."

"Kid!?" repeated Thomas, feeling his patience begin to snap. 

"I'm no kid. I'm grown, middle-aged..." Thomas caught himself and allowed that thought to drift off. "You know what, forget it," he said instead.

Reign looked Thomas up and down, taking in his lean, but sturdy frame and trim beard with a slightly weathered face. 

"By Dwarven standards kid, you're practically a toddler."

Thomas scowled. "I don't care what your standards are. I'm a grown-ass man who can care for myself."

Reign raised an eyebrow. "Hmph, Clearly."

Thomas sighed, the weight of his situation suddenly settling heavily on him. He had a creeping suspicion that this wasn't going to end well.  

"Look, can you help me? I need to find what this goes to." Said Thomas while pulling the key and its number tag from his coat pocket, tossing it over to Reign. 

"I just need to fetch whatever that goes to, then I can get out of here and out of your way."

Reign deftly caught the key in his hand and looked at it. Noting the parcel number on the key tag the old Dwarf's expression turned serious and bemused all at the same time.

"You know what this key belongs to, Drifter?" The dwarven mayor asked, his voice accusatory.

Thomas frowned. "No, but I was hoping you could tell me."

"This key, son..." Reign held up the key, pointing to the number on the tag. "Belongs to an off-site secure storage locker 687."

"Yeah, ok? And that means what exactly?"

Reign couldn't help but chuckle with a slow shake of his head at Thomas's question.

"It belongs to the radio tower you blew up earlier. That's the 600 blocks up there. Great job kid." Reign didn't even try to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

Thomas's eyes widened in surprise and unexpected shock. 

"Uh?! Wait, What?!" Thomas yelled.

"That can't be right. First the Mecha, and now this?! What the actual fuck is going on here..."

Thomas's mind raced as he tried to piece together the puzzle of information. The question that kept crossing his mind, was did his handlers know this?  

Had he been set up for failure?

The ambiguity of The Guild and its departmentalized deployment of details made it very difficult to discern the answers to those questions. 

"I had no idea. I just needed to create a distraction." Thomas finally said.

Reign glared at him. "A distraction that could have gotten innocent people as well as yourself killed, kid! You need to take responsibility for your actions, Drifter. Make it right."

Thomas shared a long look with the Dwarf, his conscience suffering under the weight of the intended guilt. "Look, I know, alright? I messed up, But I need to get what I came for or I ain't going to be able to make anything right for anyone."

Reign sighed with a sad shake of his head.

"Fine, boy. I'll take you to your damn locker, but there ain't no guarantee it'll be there. Either way, you must make things right. Your little misadventure has had some real-world consequences for the folks here."

Reign motioned to the room around him where many of his people lay resting on makeshift cots and huddling close together, fear and terror evident in their empty stares.  

"And just how am I supposed to do that?" Thomas wearily asked the dwarven mayor.

Reign looked at him; his expression mute. "That's for you to figure out, Drifter. "

***

Williams remained under that filthy sink until she completely lost track of time, lost in her thoughts, and unable if not unwilling to pull herself out of the dark state of mind that had taken hold of her.

There was no motivation to let that grief go. No comfort to soothe the aches that welted her heart and soul. No, all she had now was that bitter resentment, and she clung to that like a selfish child not willing to share.

Her loss felt like a physical burden that she could not shake off. It strangled and ensnared her, it tangled her feet as she felt like she was pulled under the oceanic depths of her growing anxiety.  

Her life had been built around her husband, Biggs, and the life they had shared. There wasn't an aspect of herself that she hadn't shared with him.

She loved that man more than she had ever loved anyone. It was Biggs that had saved her from her youthful mistakes and pulled her away from a path that would have undoubtedly led to her end.

They had settled here, in Brickfield to be free and away from this type of life. But Biggs was gone now. All that was left was this substantial aching hole in the center of her chest. A vacuum that consumed all the light that may have been left in her life.

She thought about the people she had lost and how they had trusted her to lead them safely through the horror that had all found themselves in, to keep them safe.  

She remembered how powerless she felt when she was unable to reach those that desperately screamed out for her help, how she had no choice but to watch, forced to stand idly by as those mechanized bastards cut down her friends and neighbors.

The look of their terror in their eyes as they were slain like cattle. That looked haunted Willaims, she could see their stares in her mind's eye. Silent and accusing, they haunted the dark recesses of her shattered self-confidence.  

She had failed. Biggs, that poor wonderful example of a man, had paid the price for her incompetence. Because of her failures, he had paid the ultimate price.

That guilt and the pain were overwhelming. Unbearable. She didn't know how to cope. She felt like she was drowning in her sorrow and grief with no way out.  

As she sat there, lost in her thoughts, she felt a deep sense of hopelessness and despair wash over her. 

She took a deep breath to steady herself and wiped away the tears that stained her face. She knew she couldn't let her emotions get the better, not when she had a job to do. 

Not when Bigg's body was not even cold. 

Not when she still had this burning hatred to destroy those bastards!

She returned to where she had earlier left Reign and Thomas. The two now stood and were in conversation as she approached, her face a mask of calm professionalism.  

Reign noted, but said nothing about the usual light in Williams once vivid brown eyes were flat and deadpan.

"Sorry about that," she said, her voice even, calm.  

Cold.  

"I just needed a moment alone to clear my head."

"Aye.." Reign looked at her suspiciously before speaking. "I see you're back, you good lass?"

"Yes. " Was all she replied, looking from Reign to Thomas. " Have you figured out what we're to do with this asshole, yet?"

"Ouch.." Said Thomas, a hurt look flashing across his face. " Suppose that's warranted."

"Matter o' fact, I have lass. And you're right on time." Said the old Dwarf, suddenly twirling Thomas's key around his short and stubby but firm fingers.

"Oh?" Said both Williams and Thomas in unison with a shared sense of excitement and dread.