Chapter 20: Crying Origami.

  “To seek the bliss of pleasure, to praise the undead, to embrace the broken and damned, all for the FATE OF THE STARS.”

  August 29th, 1990.

  The clock spoke of 10 AM.

  Link II woke with a smile.

  Stretching his arms to the ceiling, silence filling the air besides his large yawn.

  Getting up from his slumber.

  Walking out towards the rest of the house and seeing glee in everything.

  Blood stained grass that slowly died.

  Gravestones of many unknown.

  His own outfit, proudly incorrect.

  All intertwined perfectly wrong.

  As Link II let himself outside, hesitantly stepping out into the wet grass.

  Squelching his shoes into the slippery texture of grass.

  His eyes tunneling down the area, scanning like a hawk.

  Finally standing in the middle of it.

  Stone steps leading towards a shed.

  Placed imperfectly, bent like caps of bottles.

  On his left, the funeral pyre stood.

  Charcoal still as a wire.

  But to Link II, It felt disrespectful to leave it barely cared for.

  Even if it means the same cycle repeats like a dying man's heartbeat.

  His hand flickered, summoning a simple circular plate.

  A plate of futuristic intent he threw towards the burnt palace.

  And Link II waited.

  Waited.

  Waited.

  …

  Till the disguise finally emerged from the object.

  Sounding like the inflation of a balloon.

  Putting up an illusion of the house.

  While Link II sighed, looking up to the cloudy sky.

  Asking himself.

  “Is this really the value of life?

  To see everything and everyone get replaced by robotic machines and illusions?”

  As Duckworth spoke yet again.

  “Yeah kid, most of it seems to be huh?

  We look at something so tragic, yet the next moment it's like a bipolar episode.

  And it changes to a perspective with a lack of empathy for the dead.

  To the point where it changes and is left forgotten by everyone like a balloon to the sun.”

  Soon, Duckworth chuckled.

  Hiding that somber personality yet again.

  Silence back in the air like a crown.

  They both stood, watching the backyard around them dim into slippery blades of grass and deteriorating gravestones.

  Side by side like brothers.

  As Link II asked.

  “Hey Ducky?

  Why do you have such a restrictive and military-like personality?

  Why didn't you like to be emotional?”

  Yet, in their drenched hair, Duckworth barely spoke.

  “Don't like being emotional when anything and everything can crush you.

  Why do you think people are so stupid nowadays?

  People let their pride, their ego for fuck's sake, their dreams lead them into terrible groups.

  People… are just flawed robots.”

  Before turning towards Link II and speaking.

  “Why do you think I was so angry with you?

  Because I truly hated you?

  That's like saying I hate myself for not being myself, it's a contradiction.

  But anyways, shouldn't we practice your abilities?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Then, Link II asked.

  “But shouldn't we feel sorry for that family, Ducky?

  I mean, for Christ's sake, they were brutally gunned down, including their children!”

  Right as Duckworth responded.

  “Hey, look at me.”

  And so, Link II did.

  Both staring like lions to a cage.

  He began to speak.

  “You've been depressed too long.

  And while yes, that is the obvious question to feel bad, it isn't your responsibility.

  None of these people are, unless they actively do something horrible-”

  Interrupted by Link II abruptly.

  “That's my point exactly, Duckworth!

  What if another family is gunned down?

  What if a man abuses his young?

  What if-”

  Before being shut down by Duckworth's hand.

  “Yeah kid, you're right.

  Everyone could be guilty of sin.

  But you aren't a savior.

  Nobody is and nobody will be.

  Sure, they'll be heroes for saving somebody.

  Even if you had the capacity to take other's pain like those versions of yourself…

  But that won't fix anything, it'll just create more issues for everyone.

  So let me ask you this.

  If you were to trade your life with a homeless man, would you do it, without context?”

  From that, it humbled Link II.

  Making him realize Duckworth's whole lesson throughout their travels.

  He was trying to teach him to become not a savior, but rather something better than a hero.

  Someone who saves without thought.

  Someone who saves and doesn't let their ego get to them.

  Someone…

  Like an Anti-Hero.

  “Now Link, let's train your abilities, yeah?”

  From that, Link II walked with Duckworth.

  Quickly teleporting in a flash into their bunker.

  Still and silent, they arrived in the bunker.

  The same bunker he created when he was six years old.

  Guns on standby, lined up on walls like posters.

  A shooting range right across from the bunker entrance.

  Finally, the rest of the large bunker dedicated to nothing but air.

  Duckworth walked, moving towards it.

  His steps echoed in the air.

  “Let’s begin.”

  Duckworth said, stancing towards Link II.

  While Link II was baffled, hesitantly asking.

  “W-What do i come up with?”

  Then came Duckworth.

  “WHAT?! You don't know what to come up with? Then how did you-”

  Then Link II interrupted.

  “I just thought of how I felt towards them! I don't know the world of superhuman abilities!”

  Both stood, equally baffled at what both were informed of.

  Suddenly, Duckworth spoke.

  “So, the only thing holding you back is the lack of imagination you have due to trauma?”

  Link II then spoke.

  “Yeah… Yeah. That's the only thing holding me back.

  So what do we do to train anyways?”

  Duckworth stood in silence for a moment.

  Thinking of ways to train him.

  “Should I try some videos online?

  I mean, they could bring his imagination out and give him confidence.

  But then again he’ll want to travel to that universe to meet each person.

  What's a better idea…?

  Fuck it, we ball.”

  Finally stating confidently.

  “Hey Link! I’ve got an idea on how we can boost that lackluster creativity of yours!”

  Link II turned back to see Duckworth with something new.

  A comic.

  More specifically, a comic stack.

  As Duckworth spoke.

  “Me and you are gonna read these comics while you listen to rap music, alright?”

  While Link II nodded, both grabbing a comic and sitting on air, floating.

  During Link II's own reading of comic books, he got bored.

  Tired of reading such tropes simplified into action on paper, asking.

  “Hey ducky? Is there a movie adaptation of this?

  Im… kinda getting tired of reading, I'd prefer visual and audio over… this.”

  While Duckworth snapped his fingers, smiling in surprise laughing with him.

  “Shit, why didn't I think of that!

  Yeah kid, I'll get the film adaptations.”

  Quickly summoning some CD's, the air hummed like a car engine.

  Leaving the CD's sitting in Duckworth's hand, as he reached for the so-called video player.

  Forgetting one thing as he muttered to himself.

  “Aw shit… that technology didn't exist till 1997. How am I gonna give Link ideas on his abilities?”

  Standing in thought again.

  Thinking of how to demonstrate the multitude of superhuman abilities to Link II.

  Yet a single music note repeated in his head, a synth note so iconic it had a name.

  Hearing only one word come to mind.

  KIDS SEE GHOSTS.

  Finally coming up with something, asking.

  “Hey Link? You know how that song back after your crash in ‘89 let you float and all that?

  I have an idea that just might work.”

  Duckworth suddenly thrusted his arm into the air, quickly summoning the same CD player from the living room.

  Pulling out the CD, it was completely white colored.

  Besides the silver behind the CD, it had no title, nothing on the CD itself besides white.

  Eventually putting the CD into its player.

  The first song played being Feel the Love by KIDS SEE GHOSTS.

  Its intro of the synths reminded Link II of a blooming flower.

  A flower blooming in a world full of drama.

  The lyrics of feeling the love by one unknown artist were heard.

  Waiting for the beat to drop, verses continued braggadocially from another person, unknown to Link II again.

  All while gunshots became the beat drop.

  Loud and egotistical like a human.

  But to Link II, he began bobbing his head.

  The colors and synth waves appearing to him like rainbows from heaven, sampled gunshots intertwined with beauty.

  Continued for what felt like hours, while Link II began to float.

  Flying around slowly, steadily in circles while Duckworth watched from below.

  While the song ended, Link II stood in the air.

  His leg bent towards the floor like a ballerina, a masculine ballerina.

  Smiling to Duckworth as he announced to himself.

  “I CAN STILL FEEL THE LOVE!

  I Feel Like Pablo!

  Woo!”

  Dancing around in the air as the album continued with the next song.

  Fire.

  While Link II fell back down, rolling to negate falling onto the floor.

  Jumping up into the air like a kangaroo and smiling at Duckworth.

  Who was now gone.

  Only smiling at empty air.

  His arms in the air proudly letting his abilities run wild.

  From that stance, a multitude of energy of every color imaginable formed from his hands, alongside elemental powers of those colors.

  Twined with creations of wall like lines that could crush a man.

  Flying to the ceiling all at once like a blender of food.

  Smiling towards Duckworth again while the next song played.

  4th dimension.

  Yet while samples of a Christmas song played under boastful lyrics, Link II experimented with his abilities like a child to a toy store.

  Throwing out creations of constructs from the energy of creations.

  Shaped out like children’s dreams of weird sentient creatures and standard geometry.

  Duckworth watched from above the bunker entrance, seeing his friend smile.

  Muttering to himself.

  “Good on you kid, good on you for growing away from that somber personality.

  …it just hurts to see you lose another person again.”

  Duckworth began to walk outside, stepping out to the same stained backyard.

  His shoes gripping the damp blades of grass like a wet floor.

  Smiling to himself as he spoke to the sky, sighing as he held back something.

  “...well, it's fun to see a kid like him grow up.

  Unfortunate that every time he grows up, he moves on from the things that created him.

  Becoming his own person folded by sadness…”

  Sniffling his nose while speaking, almost making a whimper at first.

  “Is this what death feels like? The epiphany of satisfaction mixed with moving forwards.

  Yeah… yeah. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.

  Maybe death is silent to the suffering of many.

  Maybe death is just depicted as bad due to the unknown.

  Maybe, just maybe, death is a blessing to the favored and unfavored.

  …good luck kid, even if you can't hear me under the presence of music.

  Just keep moving forward like they say.”

  And yet as Duckworth stood in the newfound rain outside, he spoke one last poem of his own making.

  “Reborn, I keep moving forward to feel the love of a montage.

  All twined with freedom like its fire...