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Chapter 3

From the Machine

Clash, Frost blocked the figure’s swing before it hit Free. However, Frost wasn’t strong enough to push the figure back.

All Frost could do was hold until suddenly, a stranger covered in cloth wielding heavy rusted gauntlets with a guitar on his back punched the figure in the shoulder, launching it a few feet away.

The stranger adjusted his gauntlets, “Sorry about Eight’s behavior, he’s being a baby.”

“Eh? Who are you supposed to be?” Free said.

“You don’t know me?” the stranger replied. “Oh, an Alien, I see. Well, I’m Silk, the guy who just saved your life…” Silk caught a piece of concreate thrown by Eight, “…Twice. What’s yours?”

“…Free, the Self-made Machine.”

“Fancy title.”

“Yeah, thanks—Obviously we’re interrupting somethin’. So, we’re just gonna finish up what we gotta do then skip.”

“Sure thing, though, I think your partner disagrees.”

“Huh?”

Frost tackled Eight and pinned him to the ground, then was kicked off and sent flying over to Free—barely landing feet first.

“Are you alright?” Frost said to Free.

“Are you alright?!” Free replied.

“I will manage.” Frost turned to Silk, “Who are you?”

“Silk, nice to meet you,” Silk replied.

“Likewise. Do you acquire assistance?”

“Never,” Silk chuckled, “but I won’t say no to it—just try to keep up!”

Silk ran to Eight and punched at him—Eight dodged his attack and counterattacked with a strike to Silk’s arm.

Frost readied their knife, about to join in the fight when Free stopped them.

“We don’t need to help those randos, we gotta get out of here! Come on, we got junk to throw into a hole,” Free said.

“Hmm.”

“It’s only a matter of time till those guards get up here.”

“Then I shall guarantee this encounter ends quickly.”

“Dude—”

Frost dashed towards Eight and Silk.

Free sighed, “…Whatever.”

Silk blocked a strike from Eight, but Eight managed to grab Silk by the arm and throw him to the ground.

“Not using Yard’s cutter? Are you so ashamed that you discarded it like the rest of us?” Eight yelled as he kicked Silk. “Seam, Hem, Yard, me—all left to rot because of your selfish ideals. Thirty-seven years. Thirty-seven years you have been in complete denial of—”

Frost slashed Eight’s back, barely scratching his amor but giving time for Silk to recover.

“You,” Eight pointed at Frost. “You stay out of this, you don’t know what I have had to—”

Silk whistled, “Eye’s on me, Eight. And I’d like you to know…” He snaped his fingers and the rust on his gauntlets shed off, revealing silver markings etched onto it, “I did keep something, a Seam specialty, you may recall.”

“Of course you did you little—”

Silk punched the ground and set out a shockwave of energy. Eight jumped back while Frost tried to block it—and was sent flying like a ragdoll. Free, who was in the middle of throwing trash into the light pillar, caught Frost before they hit the ground.

“Seems he has it handled,” Free said. “The guards are getting close, but I think the plan’s workin’. It’s starting to flicker—Help me out here.”

Frost observed Silk and Eight. Even after Silk did whatever he did, Eight clearly had the upper hand. For every hit Silk dished out, he took five of them.

“Humph,” Frost clenched their fist.

“Frost, dude, buddy—if that oldie can’t make a dent, then neither of us can,” Free heaved a trash bag into the pillar, shutting it off. “Huh, that took less time than I thought— Let’s get out of here.”

“I can,” Frost whispered.

A thick ice fog enveloped Frost and an unknown force pushed Free away from them. Slowly, the ground froze over, ice creeping from where Frost stood like strangler vines.

“Frost—” Free, even using all his strength, couldn’t get past the force.

Meanwhile, Eight got a clean hit on Silk’s leg and Silk fell to his knees.

“Great, great—Frost, I don’t know what you’re pulling, don’t care—but after that guy’s done with Silk, he’s coming after us! We’re screwed if we don’t go now.”

“…Listen…snow…window.”

“What?”

“…Mice…to…sleep,” although faint, Free heard Frost… singing? It sounded like a lullaby, soft and slow, occasionally interrupted by intense coughing which Free quickly took notice of.

“That’s not good,” Free looked for a way to get past whatever it was that pushed him back, trying to break it, enter it slowly, and even cutting it—but nothing worked. Then Free got an idea, perhaps if he got enough momentum, he could pass the barrier…



And dropkick some sense into Frost.



“…r-rest…” Frost’s coughing was getting worse.

“Just hang in there!” Free ran to the other side of the rooftop.

As that happened, Eight raised his mace and looked down at Silk, “…I miss when these were play fights.”

Silk stared at the ground.

“I miss when Seam was a kid full of potential, not some corpse under Velvat. When every day Hem should us a plant, animal, or anything that made the world feel bigger than it really was. Do you still remember those days?”

“Yeah, I still do.”

“…If Yard was here, he would’ve broken this up by now. Part of me still thinks he’ll show up any moment. Rise out of the ground like brand new, calling us fools, telling us how to compromise. Not that I believe there is a way we could, not this time.”

“Not this time.”

“No, we can’t compromise. Maybe, instead… you can join me,” Eight lowered his mace and extended his hand. “It’s not too late, let’s leave this trash behind. We can be a team again.”

Silk looked at Eight’s hand.

“How about it?”

Silk looked Eight in the eye, let out a quiet chuckle that then exploded into a laugh so hard he rolled onto the floor.

“What’s funny?”

“That you think I care,” Silk regained his bearings. “That’s comedy gold!”.

“Silk, this is not the time to joke.”

“I’m being serious, I’ve had my fun, you’ve had yours. Nothing else matter besides that.”

“What about our people, our planet, your ideals? What we fought over!”

“It’ll all rot away anyhow, all we did was make it happen just a little slower, sometimes a little faster.” Silk spread his arms wide, “So, kill me. I’m done.”

“Fine,” Eight raised his mace. “Goodbye, Silk.”

“See you, pal.”

Eight slammed his mace down—Clank—Eight’s strike was stopped, creating shockwaves that cracked the ground. Between Eight and Silk was a white-tipped tail with metallic fur the color of honey.

The tail belonged to a small creature with the head of a fox, who was adorned in a cloak with wood beads shaped like sunflower seeds along its edge. The fur of its ears were midnight gray, and it had eyes with black sclera and red iris.

While the creature somehow stopped Eight’s strike, it did not hold its ground. The force from his attack sent it flying in an arc which directly led into the pit where the light pillar once was.

In a flash, the ice fog around Frost siphoned back into them and they dashed to catch the falling creature—Free missing his dropkick. Frost tackled the creature and tried to catch the pit’s edge but couldn’t reach it in time.

The pit’s walls were smooth, there was nothing Frost could do to slow the descent. All they could do was cradle the creature, while Free, seeing Frost plumet, hastily conjured his wings—manifesting poorly-formed—and jumped after them.

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