“Doc Delilah is … DEAD! Dead, do you hear me?! She died because of YOU! You failed her! All your powers, and you couldn't save one
person! She is DEAD and it's all YOUR
fault! She trusted you, and you let her
DIE! You left her! YOU! YOU
KILLED HER!"
Scarlet raised an arm to shield her eyes from the black fire that swarmed toward her. The terror across her face muted her plea.
“It wasn't me!”
“LIAR! She called your name and you turned your back to save yourself! YOU KILLED HER!”
The voice was everywhere, coming from nowhere. The black fire danced with each word and consumed everything it touched, slowly creeping toward Scarlet. She felt the hard, rough surface of a wall stop her retreat and she looked around her. The bright red brick wall seemed infinitely tall and stretched to the horizon on both sides. She was trapped and the voice continued to punish her ears. She cupped her hands to muffle the voice and closed her eye as the black flame inched closer. Scarlet sunk into the corner and shook in fear.
“No. NO! NOOOO …"
...
Scarlet kicked the sheets off her bed as she woke with violence from the nightmare. Strands of hair stuck to her face and her whole body glistened with beads of sweat. She blinked, sat up straight and looked around the room at first not recognizing it. Once reality started to sooth her, Scarlet became washed with exhaustion as the adrenalin left her blood. She flopped back onto her pillow and felt her sweat dry and cool on the drier parts of the bed or from the overhead fan above her bed. She rubbed both eyes, even if only one could be used.
Looking at the clock beside her bed she realized she was breathing heavily as the time was only an hour past midnight.
From beside the bed she heard a faint “merow” from Hector and Scarlet smiled with some relief. Then her memories of the dream came back and Scarlet was filled with insecurity and dread. Her eye darted to several objects around the room as she tried to remember, not the dream, but what really happened. Yet remembering the accuser’s voice made Scarlet doubt herself.
She remembered saving Doc Delilah from the Vazilok and how Scarlet had to convince Doc to stop fighting them at every turn of the abandoned lab. Scarlet had to save Doc on a few occasions, even when a crossbow shaft almost pinned Scarlet to a wall. There was the last room: large and dusty with half embalmed cadavers coming from the darkness and shadows to stop their escape. Doc was a hard fighter. Scarlet lost a lot of blood that night. She could see herself closing the front door and calling the PPD to her location …
But she couldn't remember if Doc Delilah with her as she called. Scarlet traced back her steps in memory as she sat up straight in bed and put her feet to the wooden floor as dread started to swell within her. Scenes from her memory started flashing back and forth from the rescue, to the last room, to the call.
Fighting. Anger. Frustration. Pain. Remorse? Decision. Action. Regret?
She shook her head and stood, trembling in fear: fear for the truth. Was the dream … not a dream? Scarlet numbly walked through her apartment toward her costume. The images kept rushing through and she timidly searched for her Dawn Patrol communicator. Terror seized her as she felt the cold metal of the device.
Then, from some source inside her, Scarlet pushed aside doubt and replaced it with resolve. Resolve turned to confidence and she stood taller, stronger and filled with pride. In her mind's eye she could see the last fight and the two of them exiting the building, even if it was Doc holding her up as Scarlet clutched the crossbow bolt in her thigh.
She twisted her head to brush the hair out of her face. She looked and saw herself, naked, in the mirror next to the front door. Her leg showed no signs of puncture. Looking away, she activated the communicator and accessed DOGMA. A chime acknowledged and Scarlet cleared her parched throat.
“DOGMA.”
She coughed as the word was scratched and coarse. The strength in her legs started to wane.
“Search Doctor Delilah Stein. Single parameter: alive or deceased?”
The paused lasted for hours when the reality was less than a second.
“Alive,” was the female-like response.
Scarlet fainted onto the hardwood floor of the living room. Hector “merowed” in her ear and licked the tip of her nose.
Scarlet raised an arm to shield her eyes from the black fire that swarmed toward her. The terror across her face muted her plea.
“It wasn't me!”
“LIAR! She called your name and you turned your back to save yourself! YOU KILLED HER!”
The voice was everywhere, coming from nowhere. The black fire danced with each word and consumed everything it touched, slowly creeping toward Scarlet. She felt the hard, rough surface of a wall stop her retreat and she looked around her. The bright red brick wall seemed infinitely tall and stretched to the horizon on both sides. She was trapped and the voice continued to punish her ears. She cupped her hands to muffle the voice and closed her eye as the black flame inched closer. Scarlet sunk into the corner and shook in fear.
“No. NO! NOOOO …"
...
Scarlet kicked the sheets off her bed as she woke with violence from the nightmare. Strands of hair stuck to her face and her whole body glistened with beads of sweat. She blinked, sat up straight and looked around the room at first not recognizing it. Once reality started to sooth her, Scarlet became washed with exhaustion as the adrenalin left her blood. She flopped back onto her pillow and felt her sweat dry and cool on the drier parts of the bed or from the overhead fan above her bed. She rubbed both eyes, even if only one could be used.
Looking at the clock beside her bed she realized she was breathing heavily as the time was only an hour past midnight.
From beside the bed she heard a faint “merow” from Hector and Scarlet smiled with some relief. Then her memories of the dream came back and Scarlet was filled with insecurity and dread. Her eye darted to several objects around the room as she tried to remember, not the dream, but what really happened. Yet remembering the accuser’s voice made Scarlet doubt herself.
She remembered saving Doc Delilah from the Vazilok and how Scarlet had to convince Doc to stop fighting them at every turn of the abandoned lab. Scarlet had to save Doc on a few occasions, even when a crossbow shaft almost pinned Scarlet to a wall. There was the last room: large and dusty with half embalmed cadavers coming from the darkness and shadows to stop their escape. Doc was a hard fighter. Scarlet lost a lot of blood that night. She could see herself closing the front door and calling the PPD to her location …
But she couldn't remember if Doc Delilah with her as she called. Scarlet traced back her steps in memory as she sat up straight in bed and put her feet to the wooden floor as dread started to swell within her. Scenes from her memory started flashing back and forth from the rescue, to the last room, to the call.
Fighting. Anger. Frustration. Pain. Remorse? Decision. Action. Regret?
She shook her head and stood, trembling in fear: fear for the truth. Was the dream … not a dream? Scarlet numbly walked through her apartment toward her costume. The images kept rushing through and she timidly searched for her Dawn Patrol communicator. Terror seized her as she felt the cold metal of the device.
Then, from some source inside her, Scarlet pushed aside doubt and replaced it with resolve. Resolve turned to confidence and she stood taller, stronger and filled with pride. In her mind's eye she could see the last fight and the two of them exiting the building, even if it was Doc holding her up as Scarlet clutched the crossbow bolt in her thigh.
She twisted her head to brush the hair out of her face. She looked and saw herself, naked, in the mirror next to the front door. Her leg showed no signs of puncture. Looking away, she activated the communicator and accessed DOGMA. A chime acknowledged and Scarlet cleared her parched throat.
“DOGMA.”
She coughed as the word was scratched and coarse. The strength in her legs started to wane.
“Search Doctor Delilah Stein. Single parameter: alive or deceased?”
The paused lasted for hours when the reality was less than a second.
“Alive,” was the female-like response.
Scarlet fainted onto the hardwood floor of the living room. Hector “merowed” in her ear and licked the tip of her nose.
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