CyberCinder
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Chapter 368: Just A Kid
🕑 Added 2025-11-13 12:42:08 +0000 UTC“The front door was open.”
The words flow easily, but hit Taylor like a ton of bricks. The kid’s frown grows so deep that he could hold playing cards between the furrows on his brow, and right as he opens his mouth to say something, he decides against it and turns to look at the doors. He tilts his head so far to the side that my awareness can feel his neck popping.
“That shouldn’t be open,” he states the obvious and turns back to me. “Why is it open? Where’s all the caution tape and the security guards? These–these mechs almost got turned… five… um…”
He winces and taps the side of his head as if trying to knock some knowledge loose. It doesn’t fly over my head that he was about to say five minutes. The time frame obviously doesn’t add up with reality, but it could very well add up to the exact point he was… well… murdered, to put it simply. I feel at Slosh with my awareness to make sure it isn’t having any problems, then walk towards Taylor with my hands open and visible.
“Were you about to say five minutes, kid?” I say, then internally wince. Shouldn’t have added the ‘kid’ at the end.
Taylor doesn’t seem to notice, luckily. He just nods and looks down at his hands–and at the bloodstain on his shirt. Poor kid’s eyes go as wide as grapefruits as he starts to hyperventilate.
“I-I-what’s all the blood? Is it mine? Am I dying? I don’t want to die!” he whimpers and reaches up to feel at his neck. His fingers trace along the thin scar Slosh left behind. “A scar. S-someone healed me. Was it you? No… the bottle…”
He turns and looks directly at the potion I left beside him. I keep the reaction off my face as I chide myself for not asking Slosh to bring the bottle with it when it was done. Now there’s a massive clue sitting right there; enough potion to blatantly give away that whoever helped Taylor isn’t a normal class-bearer.
I close one hand and summon a relocation coin. Might have to kidnap another person today, but first, let’s give lying another try.
“What bottle… Taylor? I think that’s what Call said your name was,” I say slowly, dragging out every word to buy myself time to cross the catwalk. “There wasn’t any bottle there when I walked through. Where were you, anyway? I’m pretty sure I would’ve seen you.”
Each clanging step feels like a gunshot. Now I'm just waiting for one to hit me right in the chest the moment Taylor pieces the puzzle together. But the kid just stares silently towards the locker, the now empty locker, and the bottle of potion that he knocked over when he stood up. I can almost smell the smoke from his brain working to put together these pieces; luckily for me, it looks like Slosh’s healing efforts didn’t instantly put Taylor in perfect form. There’s a recovery period.
The clang of metal gives way to the dull thud of concrete as I step into the office portion. Taylor finally turns to look at me once I’m a few feet from him, and now, I can see just how bad he’s shaking. There’s no tears, but I can tell that he’s holding them back. That’s why he hasn’t been talking; he’s forcing his lips shut and biting his tongue so his emotions don’t flood out.
I grit my teeth and spead my arms wide. Taylor looks at me like the kid that he is–scared, confused, and far too young to be tied up in all this. He silently rushes into me and wraps his arms around my back, shaking with emotions that he just refuses to let out. I close my arms into a comforting hug and pat him on the back, then tousle his slightly bloodstained hair.
“You’re alright, kid; you’re alright,” I gently assure him. “Anything I can do for you?”
He squeaks. I take it as a ‘yes, but I can’t say anything without crying’. The poor kid shouldn’t be worried about that, yet I have a feeling he’d say something like ‘speakers don’t cry’. So I just hold him as he shakes, breathes, and slowly comes to terms with whatever he remembers happening.
Pearl smiles fondly and pats my shoulder. Except she does it from inside my brain, and the sensation of patting just… happens. I choose not to wonder how that works and just exchange expressions with her; worry that whoever did this to the kid might come for us next, fear that we could’ve already been found out, and anger that someone actually did this to a goddamn kid. Not just the attack and killing, but the Class Coin and training in general.
I can’t believe Gil went through all this when he was so young. It must’ve been so much worse than he’s let on. Taylor finally sniffles and pulls his face away, eyes puffy from holding back tears and jaw quivering like a newborn puppy. Violent protective instincts flare to life deep in my stomach, and a brutal sneering growl slips through my lips, exposing my gums and jagged teeth.
Taylor’s eyes go wide once more. “You’re–”
“Yeah, I am,” I flip a coin through my knuckles and hold it up for him. “Kid, if you need to get out of here, I–”
He grabs the coin and wraps his hands around it hard enough to leave marks.
“I know they say you’re evil, but-but-but I just… I don’t…” he trails off, eyes misty. “I just want to go home. Mommy… dad… I miss you…”
Then he holds the coin up to his head. Tears finally flow free, accompanied by a gasping sob that’s both terrified and relieved. Pearl’s eyes shine with violence. My heart beats fast and angry. Something far away, something far more powerful than I am, instills in me a horrible desire to dismantle anyone that drives a child to this.
Because he thinks there’s a projectile in that coin.
“Who did this to you?” I whisper.
Taylor’s eyes flash to me. “I don’t know. I heard the alarms, and I saw the things fall… and and-hick-and I went to get dressed, but then I got really sleepy and went to lie down, and when I did I saw someone coming towards me with a knife and I… and I…”
A loud, snot-filled sniffle interrupts his run-on sentence. I wait patiently for him to continue as protective anger seethes through my body. He’s just a fucking kid. Who the hell does this to a fucking kid?
“Sorry… sorry…” Taylor sobs. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry, kid; take all the time you need,” I insist and crouch down to his eye level. “Hell, don’t say it if you don’t want to. But I’m going to make sure you’re okay, yeah? If you don’t want to do any of this Class stuff, I’ll find a way to make sure you never have to. If you want to go back to your family, I’ll find a way for that to happen. You want to leave here?”
Taylor leans his head to the side and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, then shakes his head.
“Alright, then what do you want? Where is home for you?”
“Here,” he mumbles. “It’s here.”
Here. So his family is still in the Preservation. I can’t believe parents would so easily let their kids take Class Coins… but I also don’t know what the Preservation tells them about said Class Coins. If anything, since it seems like they have some way to keep people from going to the other world, they could effectively train people so they’re really ready the first time they go over.
So… maybe I’m making some assumptions here. Even if it does look like Taylor just expected me to… kill him.
“So your family’s here. Want me to bring you to them? Or do you have some way to contact them to come get you?”
“No. I… I have to help,” Taylor says, but his words don’t hold the resolve he wants. “All those people in the city are suffering. I need to make sure they’re all okay. After-after that I’ll go back home. Yeah. I can go home.”
His eyes grow more… strange by the second. There’s magic inside of them. Magic that isn’t coming from him. He slowly lowers my coin and hands it back to me, steps away, and takes a deep breath. Something’s unnaturally calming him. Something that I have a feeling will be showing up in a few seconds.
“Do you know who did this to you?” I ask, motioning at my own neck for emphasis.
Taylor tilts his head to the side. “Did what to me?”
“Psychic,” Pearl snarls. “Someone knows he’s alive.”
And they’re actively making sure he doesn’t do whatever he was about to do. All that vulnerability, all that emotion, gone and suppressed by the psychic. His eyes and expression harden with artificial resolve. He’s completely unaware that his feelings aren’t his own.
I offer him an apologetic smile and take a step back. Everything in me screams to forcibly teleport this kid to the city so we can get him away from this. But the psychic already knows he’s alive. If he disappears, there’ll be only one person that they suspect. If they take him in, though, they might figure out just as easily. Unless the psychic’s power did something to his brain.
“Taylor, what happened to that coin you found?” I ask warily.
He frowns. “Coin? I don’t remember any coin. Just going to sleep way up top and waking up here… somehow. Oh, wow, that’s a lot of blood. Did I get a nosebleed while I was asleep? I feel like I got a nosebleed while I was asleep. You–wait, who are you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You really don’t recognize me?”
“Should I?” he asks.
The anonymity pebble rolls against my teeth. I push it right to my lips and go to clear my throat, raising a hand to spit the pebble into. Recognition flashes in Taylor’s eyes the moment it leaves my mouth.
“You’re that lady Call was with! How’d you get in here?” he repeats, albeit with far more… childishness than before. “Oh, wow, where’s all the caution tape? Okay, you shouldn’t be in here, so I’m going to escort you out before anyone comes and catches you here. I know you’re curious, but the others won’t be so nice!”
He steps towards me and holds out a hand. His eyes are still puffy and red from crying. The blood from his barely scarred neck stains his shirt in a way that no nosebleed ever could. But he’s talking like he just woke up from a nap in the backseat of a car and found himself somewhere new, but familiar. I send a nonverbal signal to Slosh to get back to the canteen as I reach to take Taylor’s hand.
It’s still shaking. He looks down at it, confusion written on his face, as tears well in the corners of his eyes.
“That’s weird,” he says emotionlessly, then looks directly at me as those tears trail over his cheeks. “Why’m I shaking, miss?”
