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THE AGE OF RECKONING, XX.XX.2372
"Come here, Reaver. Do you remember the three rules?"
Flame Reaver swallowed and nodded, head bobbing up and down. The doctor followed their every move — ever observant of his pale companion who trailed him like a shadow. His icy gaze was as sharp and calculating as ever.
"Rule number one, always call out when I need help, and stay close by your side" they said, trembling while they slowly extended their pointer finger.
Phainon hummed affirmatively. "Go on now."
"Second rule ... is... um... never take a life if you haven't asked me to" they stammered.
The blue-eyed man continued to stare coldly at his carbon copy. His piercing eyes surveyed them, intense as usual — as it should be, they thought. Doctors had to shoulder such a huge weight on their shoulders, and especially Phainon, who'd been struggling in a desolate world in order to take out the devastating virus’ roots.
Plagues and mutants had to be eradicated — after all, the Flame Reaver was only created for this purpose.
"The third rule ... never look back," they said at last.
He finally smiled. "Good. Don't forget it."
Phainon put his hand at his hip, satisfied with how Reaver parroted his words back to him. He clicked his tongue and motioned for the cloaked replica of himself to follow suit.
It was going to be a long day.
When the two of them travelled together, they never really thought about the future. Cities laid to waste and smog hung in the air, spreading the scent of rot and death. The sun beat down upon them, the aureole passing through nimbus and shining on their dark path. It had been five years since the tragedy. Reaver didn’t know much about it other than the basics: 5 researchers, human experimentation, devastating results. It was supposed to be perfect — enhancers that could boost the mortal threshold for pain, an impenetrable immune system, et cetera. The doctor didn’t like speaking about his failures when they just existed everywhere they went. So Reaver didn’t ask questions. They continued on their trek.
Both of them were armed, of course, with a Colt pistol that only Reaver tended to use. It was easy to find abandoned firearms nowadays, scattered about with corpses of people falling quickly to the calamity they call 'The Black Tide'. Right now, they were heading to Fort 496. There were designated safe zones, fortified bastions where some gathered to fend off the creatures. Not a lot of them were left, but this one had been standing for a while now, resisting destruction against all odds. The people there were probably competent enough to survive this long. It could've been luck too, of course, but the doctor always said that luck was a resource more finite than time — utterly unreliable, not worth clinging to.
Phainon had two sides to him: a caring healer who wanted to make others smile despite the odds, and a cold man who was trying to salvage what little is left of his humanity. He struggled with all his might, and Reaver had seen him on the brink, teetering off the edge many times. The doctor usually spoke with a gentle demeanor to others. To Reaver, he bore his truest self. He could be cruel sometimes, but no matter how he treated them, Phainon was never apathetic or detached. He only seemed to be distant, trying to maintain a sense of balance between them, unwilling to drag Reaver down with him in his darkest moments. Some days, he would chat Reaver' ear off, to try and distract himself from the sound of screams or muffled cries of pain. He'd let Reaver share their woes with him, but whenever they asked him in turn, he would always deflect and talk about something else. It occasionally made Phainon unbearable to be around. Yet Reaver could never seem to part ways with him, always trailing close behind.
Today, there was no buzzing in Reaver' ears. Today, it was silent, an insipid but welcome reprieve. Unspoken words hung in the air, along with a faint smell of antiseptic. Even their footsteps were hushed, softly carrying itself like ants would crawl in the dirt. There was a space between them — slowly expanding, like the growing cracks of a rock being eroded — and they did nothing to try to close the gap.
Every so often, in the stillness, the medical equipment would jostle in the case that Reaver carried for the doctor . It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to do small scale operations here and there when they came across a person in need of treatment.
There was also… a pill that Reaver had to take to remain "stable". They took it twice a day. Phainon always had to remind them to take it. Reaver didn't like the taste, but they endured for his sake. The man always panicked whenever they forgot to imbibe it on schedule.
"We're almost there," Phainon said softly, peering back at them like they might disappear if he looked away for too long, "You doing alright?"
Reaver nodded and hurried after him, realizing that they were lost in thought again, as they often were. It's a trait they absorbed from him, maybe. As much as Phainon loathed to admit, he had a bad habit of dissociating — his head racing with a million different scenarios at once. Well, dawdling benefitted no one. They had to pick up the pace.
"How much further…?" Reaver asked, examining their surroundings. It was almost too quiet. Nothing was bothering them, no sign of the corrupted creatures of the Black Tide. No life at all. The stillness was getting a bit concerning— they felt a cold chill run down their spine, like a prick on their nape, and a drop of sweat fell from their brow. Everything was proceeding a little too comfortably, and smooth sailing journeys had never been a part of their book.
Phainon sighed, sensing his companion's uneasiness, "The corruption travels slowly here, you don't need to worry too much. Fort 496 is around 5 kilometers away. We'll be there soon."
Reaver thought they heard something rustling, approaching the pair, but they ignored it for a while. They thought that perhaps it was just the sound of their own footsteps. But there was an eerie sense of wrongness that dug its way into Reaver's mind, and shadows blurred in their periphery. They needed to move quicker, protect Phainon, head to that fortress and stay low for a while. Something was going to come and catch them otherwise. They couldn't afford that to happen. Just as they were about to reach out and tell Phainon about their worries—
"Let's hurry now." Without thinking much further, The doctor grabbed his clone's hand and ran as fast as he could. Reaver followed suit until the balls of their feet ached, rushing to keep up with the man leading them across the barren earth. Their feet skidded against the ground as they kept sprinting, moving forwards until an imposing stone brick wall started coming into view. Reaver saw barbed wire arranged along the battlement.
The two of them breathed a sigh of relief, approaching Fort 496 in measured steps, breaching the unknown territory with precision. Getting in would probably be a simple affair, but neither of them had gone to a stronghold this well defended before. Reaver's hand instinctively reached into their pocket, where they kept their gun. Phainon squeezed Reaver's hand in his, trying to ground them. Stay with me, it seemed to say.
"You think they'd let us in?" Reaver glanced up at Phainon, who was staring at the looming wall like he could tear it down to enter. He gave them a small reassuring smile. The doctor 's hand felt colder than it did before.
"I'm sure they would. A medic is pretty valuable, after all. If their goal is survival, we've got spare hands to help save lives, right?"
He started walking away, circling the fort to find its proper entrance. The way the fortress was built was rather peculiar — it looked like a mountain, but with a hollow space where its peak should be. Scaling the rampart would yield futile results because of the barbed wires, spiking up as if it were bramble thorns. In any case, there should be a gate or an opening somewhere. Otherwise, how would anyone get in and out?
Reaver observed warily as Phainon's well-crafted, confident mask started to slip away. His lips tugged downward ever so slightly. There was no sign of an entrance. There were, however, a few traps planted around the imposing walls — it was far too obvious for humans to fall for, but to mindless monsters who lack a sense of caution…it wasn't a waste to arrange them around the perimeter in case of an ambush.
"Maybe it just blends in really well ? Hm. I suppose that would explain how intact it is." He muttered under his breath. doctor Khaslana was getting impatient now. That…was dangerous — he would do unpredictable things when frustrated. Destructive impulses. A trait they shared.
Reaver spoke up, "M-maybe we could try to scream for help?" Phainon veered to look at them like they were some kind of crazy genius.
"That…might do the trick. Though it might also attract a horde of Black Tide creatures" He clicked his tongue. "Risky. Though it's an idea we could try."
He gave Reaver one of those closed-eye beaming smiles and placed his hand on their shoulder, which made their heart feel like it was going to give out. It stuttered a bit, beating irregularly until it unwound. They should get back to business. Reaver wasn't sure how this was going to go, but hopefully they could get access to the inside of Fort 496.
"Should we do it no-"
"HELLOOOO?! A LITTLE HELP OVER HERE!" Phainon yelled at the top of his lungs.
Well, that would do it. Flame Reaver felt a little stupid now. Before long, that sense came crawling back, creeping in and settling goosebumps on their skin. Unwanted guests had arrived.
They were surrounded. Black Tide Creatures appeared at their side; a whole horde of them spawning seemingly out of nowhere, drawn by the sound of Phainon's bellowing. They were tall in stature, humanoid in silhouette but covered in black carapace and amber, as well as emitting a reddish glow that seemed to warp the air around it. All of them were once human, before the corruption came and twisted them, infecting these souls into that of mindless monsters. And all of them harbored the intent to kill. Long limbs extended out, trying to get closer and slice at them.
Reaver pulled out their gun and waited for Phainon's signal. He nodded, trusting Reaver to guard his back. They slipped into their usual fighting stance and shot at the infecteds' legs as they lunged at them. Some of them dodged, narrowly avoiding the bullets, but a couple took hits and struggled to run. Even though they were surrounded, this was unfamiliar territory for the spawn of Black Tide as well. Their black blood spilled on rocky ground, tainting it with dark caustic matter. It spread out like vines before the inky blackness dissipated into the earth.
Phainon only waited patiently, occasionally checking his wristwatch. They wanted to draw the attention of the ones in charge of the Fort's defenses. With Reaver fighting, the sound of a skirmish with the Black Tide Creatures should travel through to pierce the walls. Adrenaline burned through their veins as they sidestepped a slash and intercepted another creature with a kick before shooting its chest. There were still so many of them around Reaver and the doctor.
An alarm sounded from behind the bulwark.
A man suddenly came into view above the battlement, looking at them and the monsters like they were the same — equally trespassing on their ground. It's not that they didn't expect a warm reception, but were they really going to be kept out of Fort 496 even if they harbored no ill will ?
His voice was even as he spoke, indifferent and almost mocking. "You two seem to have it under control."
Phainon chuckled softly. He waved at the stranger in a friendly manner while Reaver kept fighting off the horde of corrupted creatures. All the while the man scrutinized them, as if analyzing their movements.
"You lot seem to have a wonderful place here. We'd love to take a look inside," The doctor said, tilting his head to the side, "We could be useful allies! You can never have too many healers on your side, right?"
"You said you needed our help, and now you're insinuating that we need yours?"
"It could be a mutually beneficial exchange!"
The man crossed his arms and seemed to genuinely consider before replying. He turned behind him and gave a curt nod, plausibly a signal to the one who was in charge of approving entry into Fort 496. Without warning, the man jumped down and landed perfectly on the ground. He was a fighter too then — Reaver mused. There were 5 Black Tide Creatures left to handle, still full of bloodlust and hunger, trying to slice and strike at them.
The " newcomer " took them down with fists and kicks. He barely struggled against the monsters. One tried to sneak up on him from behind and he spun around to throw it off balance, then crushing the creature's skull underneath his heel, which caused a resounding crack to echo upon the ground. What seemed to be a dangerous ambush was nothing against this man. The fight was over in a flash, as quick as it began. Reaver gaped in awe. Even if they helped to shoot them down, it would've been much slower to eliminate all the undead creatures on their own. They looked at Phainon for guidance, but he just motioned for Reaver to be at his side again. He seemed rather impressed by the man as well.
"I hope you prove yourself worthy then, doctor."
The man snapped his fingers, and a portion of the brick wall started shifting — sliding open to reveal a hallway and a door tucked away on the other side. The two companions exchanged glances and then stared at the stranger, who huffed and made a gesture, beckoning them to follow him.
"I'm Dr. Phainon Khaslana, and this is Reaver. We're very grateful for your hospitality, genuinely, thank you for saving us back there Mr…?"
"Mydei. You don't need to call me Mr. It's nothing anyway, we usually let in wandering travellers even if they're just passing by. And I've heard of you, doctor."
"I really am quite famous aren't I, haha." Phainon flashed a charming grin while scratching the back of his head sheepishly. The blond man seemed rather unfazed. Reaver assumed that he might’ve been a bit annoyed at the doctor, but maybe he was just tired and not much of a social person.
"Not really. One of your colleagues is staying here. She arrived a couple weeks ago. Dr. Hyacinthia. She's established a little clinic here. You could see it for yourself."
"Maybe we'll take a look around then, thank you." The doctor offered his hand. Mydei hesitated, but eventually he shook it gingerly.
"I have one question, if you don't mind me asking." Mydei said, glancing at Reaver for a split second. It made them feel a little anxious, and they closed their eyes hoping that he wouldn't pay too much attention to them.
Phainon scratched his chin, "Hm? What is it?"
"Are they your twin?” the blond man asked, examining Reaver from top to bottom, taking in his features. His golden eyes lingered on Reaver's scarred face.
Phainon shook his head. "No. We're not related by blood."
"What are they to you then?"
"I'm his…research assistant…" Reaver croaked out.
"They're my partner."
Reaver gaped at the doctor 's ambiguous word choice. He wasn't wrong, in a sense, but the word partner sure felt…different. It wasn't really how they would describe their relationship, personally. It was far too constricting a term, barely encompassing its true nature. To say they're codependent would be putting it lightly.
Reaver shook their head. "He's the one who made me."
Mydei raised an eyebrow. "Made you as in…?"
"Well, they mean that I gave them a sense of belonging and purpose, I suppose? They work as my bodyguard," Phainon said, looking around uncomfortably.
Reaver nodded in agreement, staring downward at the jagged earth. Not the first time they hadn’t gotten acknowledged as Phainon's handcrafted clone. Merely an afterthought — a specimen that had to be hidden away from everyone else, a crack in his otherwise perfect persona. He called them his partner but refused to admit what they were — what they meant to him. Because at the end of this journey, Reaver was just a necessary sacrifice. Something to be surrendered for the sake of a brighter future, penitence for his sins. The happy ending to an otherwise grim story.
Didn’t really matter anyway. He loved them, in his own twisted way, and that was enough for the nameless shadow who tugged at his lab coat.
"Alright then," The man acknowledged, looking like he had other places he'd rather be. "Feel free to take a look around. The clinic is over there, if you want to check the current situation." Mydei pointed to his right, towards a white tent.
"Thank you again, Mydei. We're very lucky we made it here."
"You're welcome. Feel free to come and find me if you need anything, I'll return to my post for now."
With that, the other man turned to leave them be. Phainon started to walk towards the clinic, presumably to find Dr. Hyacine. His footsteps crunched along the dirt. As usual, Reaver followed after him, carrying his things.
The clinic was a messy place. A few injured were lying in makeshift beds, some groaning in pain and others in deep sleep. Amidst the turmoil was a young woman with pink hair, dressed in slightly worn scrubs, a stethoscope resting on her neck. Phainon's old colleague and classmate in medical school, Hyacinthia. She was like a beacon in the dark, but with only her and one nurse treating the wounded, it looked like she was trying her hardest to give the impression of being put together. This terrible apocalypse was wearing on her psyche too.
Reaver maneuvered around the small clinic mindfully to avoid disturbing the patients. Reaver could feel their despair permeating in the air; a suffocating gloominess of being able to do nothing at all but lie down and try to get better. It was a terrible state to be in; luckily it seemed that most of the injuries weren't life threatening. Ergo, with rest and proper medical care, these people could be saved.
"… Phainon? You're here? When did you –"
"I arrived a little while ago, Hyacine. It's a pleasure to see you again."
"I'm so glad you made it here safely Phainon," Hyacine smiled, but she was keeping a little distance away from them. "This must be…Flame Reaver, correct ?"
"Yes. This is Reaver, they're my travel companion." Phainon lowered his voice to a whisper, "They carry the cure in their blood. Reaver is immune to the Black Tide virus."
Reaver put their hood up, so they didn't see Hyacine's reaction, but she kept her voice light as a gentle breeze as she spoke, "Ah! That's wonderful, you really managed to do it, Phainon! Can the cure heal those severely infected?"
Phainon nodded. The plan was to start producing the cure in bulk here with one of the main ingredients being Reaver's blood. So far, there wasn't really a place to do so — chaos erupted everywhere in the country because of the plague upon them, forcing the two to flee and abandon Phainon's old lab. Phainon made enough of a dose to create Reaver as the first cure, immune to the virus and capable of keeping the spread of it at bay as long as they stayed close.
"It's been a long day, Hyacine. I'd love to help you with the patients, but I might take Reaver somewhere they can rest first, if that's alright." The doctor walked towards Reaver and held their hand, rubbing slow circles on their palm.
"Yes! That's perfectly fine. Honestly you should both take it easy and go to the residential area, we still have a couple of empty rooms there. It must've been such a long trek to get all the way here." Hyacine clasped her hands together. She seemed less stressed now that Phainon was here and prepared to offer aid in treating the sick.
"Thank you, Hyacine. We'll be on our way now."
"Don't be a stranger, Phainon. You too, Fure! Take care, alright? We can heal this world together."
Phainon waved amicably. "Will do. I promise I'll do my best."
They walked out of the clinic tent, and as they exited Reaver could've sworn they heard Hyacine's soft voice say,
"You've already done so much, Khaslana."
Reaver agreed, but deep down they knew that Phainon would always shoulder the weight of his mistakes alone. Even after saving the lives of so many people and creating the cure to undo the Black Tide, he still felt that no one should mourn him when he departs. That his life was worth nothing, that he was broken, a shattered vase unable to be repaired. Phainon had people he'd considered friends, but his thoughts lingered on a Tartarean punishment awaiting him — the doctor who brought the world to calamity.
They wished that their existence could prove Phainon otherwise, but Reaver knew that even if they could be this world's salvation, they would never be Phainon's ‘Deliverer’. Try as they might, he was fully intent on shouldering a great burden for eternity.
They found a small sized room, by some miracle with a bed big enough to fit the two of them. Through the window they could see that the sky was already dark, sun setting below the horizon line. Reaver slipped out of their garments and slumped on the bed immediately. The bed was sturdy, but the pillows were cool and nice to the touch, making them want to bury their face in it. It had been ages since they last had a proper place to sleep. Reaver's eyelids were already feeling heavy, trying to flutter shut and force them to fade out into slumber.
"Go and sleep, partner. I'll be with you shortly," Phainon said, pressing a tender kiss to their forehead after he pushed Reaver’s bangs out of the way.
Reaver shook their head, dragging Phainon into bed with them.
"Where are you even going?" they asked, rubbing their eyes.
"I was going to take a look around, but, alright. I'll stay with you." Phainon sighed, running his fingers through their silvery strands of hair. It was a soothing gesture, making Reaver loll back, relaxing into the mattress. Finally, for once in their life, they felt at ease. Everything could fade away at this moment, and they could just be two humans, sleeping next to each other without dangers lurking in every corner.
Could this place be a peaceful refuge for the both of them? One that they travelled the world to look for?
They couldn't be certain. But that would be the dream. Like a flower starting to bloom on the final days of winter, or a ray of light shining through gray skies after a heavy storm.
Their story might not have a happy end to it, but for now, couldn’t they lie together and believe in a kinder world?
"We can just retire for the night, I suppose," said Phainon, huddling closer to Reaver. He radiated warmth.
"Do you think we'd be able to stay here forever, Phainon?" Reaver asked.
They already knew the answer.
Phainon cupped their face, pressing their foreheads together. He had a soft expression on his face, and the look in his eyes — somewhere in-between pity and yearning… it made Reaver's head spin and their heartbeat quicken. Phainon was their entire world. Anywhere could be home, as long as he was there to hold them.
"If you want to, then I'll make sure of it. I'll do anything."
"… for me?"
"Yes," his face brightened. "Anything for you."