V is for Vagenda (Part 21 – The Abyss)

V is for Vagenda (Part 21 – The Abyss)

“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

    Friedrich Nietzsche

THE ABYSS

“Report”, commanded Future Lex Luther.

“Your mark has been more interesting than originally anticipated, Lex.  Though small, pink, bubbly, and in innumerable ways an endless point of frustration, I’ve made significant inroads into gaining her trust.  She has an amusingly pathetic weakness to flattery, and it is embarrassingly easy to exploit. I’ve managed to isolate her from the constant company of many others by assisting her to form a rogue league called “The Pink Patrol”. It is primarily made out of Mistycal, the mark, and myself at the moment, and I intend to fully discourage growth. On a brighter note, she’s dying. It seems that only a limited number of people are aware of this. I’m not yet privy to the details, but Superman seems to understand the problem, yet is nevertheless unable to resolve the issue. Batman has spent an extensive amount of time trying to develop a solution, and these efforts have also failed.  She is closest to Mystical, and soon will be closest to me. She had been close to a large number of people from the league called “Grey Wardens” and “Justice Girls”, but so far my efforts have been able to keep her isolated from most of those for months now. Her powers to heal continued to increase in intensity, making her an increasingly popular choice for missions. She’s develops a reputation within the watchtower. I’ve been able to maintain the isolation of achievements and negate the effects of most of this by praying on her insecurities. She does know that a lot of people talk about her, and often can worry upon whether or not what’s being spoken about her is positive or not. Simply planting the suggestion that she’s paranoid and controversial has left her unbalanced enough to focus more and our small group rather than the larger community within the watchtower. Though effective now, I may need to attempt to draw her within my league and recruit more assistance should the popularity continue to grow unchecked,” concluded Laura Lantern.

Lex reads over his previous reports, alternative sources, and begins considering what new information was just been put forward.  “If what you say is true, then that much conversation about her is eventually going to lead to people talking directly to her in the Watch Tower. You may need to work harder to guarantee that your cover is not compromised” he chides.

“I don’t anticipate this becoming an issue Lex. She is quite naïve, and so long as I can keep her insecurity managed my tactics shall continue, she will come to rely upon me for emotional reinforcement” gloats Laura Lantern.

“Insufficient,” decrees Lex Luther. “I’m sending another mole within your fold who was much more controversial on their own. Their arrival will be unexpected, and highly debated. Convince Vagenda of your moral tenacity by a sticking up for this person whenever they are questioned or persecuted by anyone who may be suspicious of her arrival. This will inspire further trust in you from Vagenda, and also protect your cover. If anyone has a desire within any league she’s connected to, or within the Watch Tower, to discuss someone who’s newly frequenting with the heroes, this person will become the subject of debate and conspiracy theories and shine in ways you never do.”

“What hero could you possibly have on a payroll that could have an effect like this?  Just who are you sending, Lex?” Laura exclaimed.

“Don’t presume to question me, and watch your tone, pawn.  Not a hero.  Expect Winter Widowmaker in four days, and don’t forget to act surprised!  Oh, and before I forget – you are going to kick your fiancé out.  Make it sudden and paint it tragic.  Let Vagenda feel like she is holding you together emotionally.  Bond.  Believe me when I tell you that the timing couldn’t be better.  This isn’t debatable – just do it and do it tonight.  Luther out.”

The small holographic screen emanating from Laura’s wrist communicator faded as it powered down.  Gritting her teeth, she made her way towards the Watch Tower’s Main Hub.  As a spy, she knew that she was elite. She had special talents and abilities that she used to fantastic effect. She was three people after all: Laura Lightning, Laura Lantern, and Laura Landstrike.  Many in the Watch Tower were accustomed to the concept of the character avatar, but Laura was a rare case where she was one person who could interact with others as anyone of her three forms, and she could do so as all three simultaneously.  At the very least, when speaking to people through one avatar, her other two would be surveying the terrain around her, giving her an enhanced sense of her surroundings.  It is a tactical advantage few could ever enjoy without technological assistance. Each of her bodies had separate talents and powers, adding to her overall arsenal and tactical diversity. Despite this, she still found herself gritting her teeth in this very moment over two things. Firstly, there was her growing envy over her mark, Vagenda.  Secondly, there was the fact that she had to force a grin and bear the condescending commands from her master, Future Lex Luther.  Laura considered herself superior to those around her due to her natural advantages, and taking orders from anyone never sat well with her.  Laura stews on the news and thinks to herself “Now he presumes to control my personal life and more importantly – where the hell is Vagenda?  Are you seriously telling me my own mark is standing me up?”

Annoyed, but true to the plan, Laura executed the cold and calculated plan, starting with sending a text to her fiancé – making it clear that things are over – immediately.  

Meanwhile, back in Vagenda’s quarters…

The silence is barely broken by music softly floating through the air in pure blackness interrupted only by the light in one small corner of the room from an LCD faintly illuminating the small, timid frame of one Vagenda, accentuated by her pink top hat.  The image repeated in skewed reflection in the glass window beside her – the deep blackness of space beyond.  Her door is locked.  She’s been alone like this – slowly staring at one old picture after another – hour after hour.  No calls.  No meals.  No indication of snapping out of it.  Tears finally begin to well up – it’s been nearly 24 hours – as the music is interrupted.

“We need to talk,” states Batman over the Comm channel.  “Now…”

“Uh-huh,” she answers shaking.

She spins startled as suddenly her locked door merely opens abruptly, and Batman steps in.  “You’ve been going over those all day,” he says, pointing at the monitor.

“Uh-huh,” she answers shaking.

“You’ve known you were dying for a long time – but this is about something else, isn’t it,” Batman says as he sits next to her on her bedside.

 “Uh-huh,” she answers shaking.

Batman turns his gaze away from the monitor image and directly into her eyes.  It seems to be an endless silence until she breaks down.

“Uh-huh,” she answers shaking – trembling.  Finally, crying out of control.

Batman pulls her in closer holding her steady.  “How do you know?” he asks, looking at the image of the man on the screen.

“I don’t know!” she answers trying not to scream through the tears, ashamed of losing composure – helplessly spiraling emotionally simply knowing he is gone.

He holds her tighter.

In silence.

In the dark.

His name was Jonathon Ryerson.  He wasn’t her boyfriend, or her daughters’ father, or her ex-husband, or even someone she seen or spoke to lately.

To most, he was no one of any significance what-so-ever.  To Vagenda…

He was her soul.  He was who she was originally destined to be with.  He was the one person that occupied her mind whether she wished it or not.  He simply knew her thoughts, and she his thoughts – at all times.  He was what made the world re-enter a sync and rhythm that made it seem as though it couldn’t help but to bend to ideals whenever he was present.  He burned the blue into the sky, a color that somehow just wasn’t real anymore when he was away.  He was her other half.

He was true love.  The only trace in the universe that was hers and hers alone…

And now he was gone.

There in the silence, in Batman’s grip, for the first time in her life – she simply couldn’t hear his mind or feel him in hers.  She just knew and couldn’t explain it.  This dreadful horrific loneliness consumed her.  She would never feel his soul in the universe again.

“His…  his name was… J…” she stutters.

“Jonathan Ryerson.” Batman completed for her.  “I figured it out after noticing you had images of the same person sent to your terminal for 12 straight hours.  I looked him up.  You dated briefly in high school, but there was something more, wasn’t there.”

The emotion came into strong welling bursts ripping apart her ability to hide her feelings as he spoke.  Struggling through it she asked “How…”

“A car accident.  It was snowing in an area where the highway was being renovated.  The car followed the painted lines from the original road straight off of the new construction.  He died quickly – he didn’t suffer.”

Vagenda stared off into space – into the vast endless emptiness that now seemed to hold as much for her as in any other direction she could have ever chosen to direct her gaze.

She always lived for her daughter all of these years, but this cut into her differently than anything else could.  This cut into who she is at the core, leaving her changed inside – less.  She never realized how significant that connection was until now that it was gone forever.

The first time they met was at a Teen Youth Center dance club.  She was being harassed by a guy she barely knew named Michael.  She left the room where the pool tables were located into the next room just trying to get away from Michael when, suddenly, she spotted Jonathan sitting at a table with some of his friends.  Her eyes locked onto Jonathan’s and that was the beginning.  They knew.  She sat next to Jonathan for protection – and felt safe.  They didn’t say hello.  They didn’t introduce themselves to each other.  They knew.  Somehow, inexplicably, what mattered was known.  Even more interestingly, the world seemed to know also.  No one else at the table reacted like the really ought to have.  No one asked who she was.  No one asked why it was Jonathan and her, and not someone else with her.  When Michael discovered where she went, he started over to her but stopped – and somehow he knew as well.  He turned around and never bothered her again.  It was just a new fact of life universally accepted upon sight by anyone who came in contact with them when they were together.  After the dance closed, they left together, still not talking, and went for a walk along the train tracks in the moonlight.  They got to an overpass bridge and sat down on the edge, her head on his shoulder.  After the city was becoming silent in the night, they walked back to the main road, and she gave him her phone number.

A day later he called her and asked if she was free that after noon.  About an hour later she showed up at his door out of breath and sweaty – she had jogged the entire way there from town.  Out of breath, they went up to his room, and laid on his bed.  He was going to put on a movie but lit some incents called “Nirvana” and they  both instinctually started shaping their hands over it to forms shapes with the smoke that came from it.  Hearts, squares, spirals – such a comfort when someone knows you so well, and so instantly.  Things did start getting heavy soon and she stopped once she realized just how far things had gotten, pulling back and asking “should we talk about this.”  He smiled back “yes we likely should.”  That was they knew they were a couple, and that it was true that they really did have this connection.  It was not a fantasy in her head – nor was it for him in his head.

At the end of the school year she found herself going to the prom with him.  Her mother was protective, and skeptical because he was a senior in high school and she was in grade 9, but once she seen them together in the same room reality adjusted accordingly like it always did somehow.  They were not in the actual gym that the prom was being held in for very long – and instead went outside to the football field where they danced alone together.  Within minutes, a rapid series of lightning strikes started shooting out of the sky.  It was a freak storm that came out of nowhere, as if the world simply wanted to provide them with a light show that was solely for them to watch.  They danced as the lightning clashed over and over, from their vantage, directly over the gymnasium.  As quickly as it came, the storm had broken up and the clouds dissipated as they left the field.

Vagenda began to fear this bond between the two of them, and pulled away – frightened further by knowing there is no way for her to truly pull away.  He was in her mind and she knew he felt what she felt – she could feel his reaction to how she felt.  There was no escape from the dynamic.  The part of her that pooled self-hatred bred a feeling of unworthiness; a skepticism that this thing between them could be really what it actually was.  Ultimately the idea that she was too young for something this powerful emerged.  Though they never officially “dated” again – they could never truly be separated.  Not on the plane of existence where souls unite.

He was everything that made her feel complete and wonderful, and to that end, in the physical plane – she pulled away.  She knew she was wrong to do it, because she could feel how he felt about it.  He knew why she was suffering this and gave her all the room to overcome it and come back to him when she was ready.

Years later, Jonathan was working a night shift at a fast food restaurant.  He hadn’t seen or heard from Vagenda by mail, e-mail, or phone in years.  He had since moved to the Pacific coast and was in a relationship there.  He suddenly had a bad feeling and told his manager he had to leave immediately over a medical emergency.  He couldn’t explain why to anyone there because he had no evidence that anything was wrong to present to them, but he left in a hurry not caring about what consequences might come later.  He got home and looked up some old phone numbers and found Vagenda’s parents old number.  He called and found out that Vagenda had just been taken to the hospital in a city about 4 hours from them – they had just found out themselves shortly before he called.  No one asked how he knew 3000km away that something was wrong.  He just knew it was bad – and in the end it was the first signs anyone had detected leading to the condition she has that is killing her.

A year later, he was living with a girl in Westwood, California when he had a nightmare.  He was a form of energy, shaped like an exotic Chinese dragon.  He had giant majestic wings with talons staggered along the length of them.  He had a dwelling in a tunnel – this was his domain.  He had one treasure, and it was this precious glowing green egg.  Very tiny red creatures seemingly made out of tiny specks of red lightning started invading the cavern looking for his egg.  He would breathe great fire upon them, killing them by the millions protecting what was his.  He was very successful for a long time, but as time wore on, they continued to return in greater numbers until finally overwhelming him.  Realizing his breath could no longer kill them all; he clutched his egg and wrapped his giant mighty wings around it and himself forming a shield with his body.  In time, they killed him, and destroyed the egg.  In the real world he awoke no longer in his bed, but very paralyzed and on the floor.  He was sweaty and out of breath.  His girlfriend was frantic, hovering over him, so thankful he woke up.  Without explanation, he demanded she immediately grab a phone book and look up Albion Hudson, dial it, and hold he phone to his ear for him.  She didn’t understand, but she did exactly as he asked.  He still could not move as Albion answered the phone excited at who had called.  Albion exclaimed “Jonathan – wow, I cannot believe you just called my house – you will not believe who just got here.  We literally are just getting back from the airport.  I will put her on.”  Vagenda came on the phone.  Jonathan explained the dream he just experienced – that he was still not able to move.  There was an awkward silence that seemed to last quite a long time until Vagenda finally answered “I think I can explain why you had that dream.  I just flew in to tell my mom in person that I’m pregnant.  No one else but you knows yet.”  It was already understood – it was now merely confirmed.  There was no sense that this dream was fantastically far-fetched, unrealistic, or impossible.  This was reality for Vagenda and Jonathan as they knew it and they just accepted it for what it was.

Despite the entire universe agreeing that these two souls simply were for each other, and all inhabitants in that universe agreeing innately that this was simply the case – they somehow stayed apart.  Endless stories such as these that proved it over and over for years, and something was in the way.

Now that he was dead, it was as if half the living force of the universe died with him.

Vagenda only ever sought to be understood and loved, and no one could ever do so more completely than Jonathan.  

Vagenda’s daughter Raine understood.  Raine showed much evidence of having a very similar functional innate mental bond as well.  Raine remained what Vagenda lived her life for.

Every picture Vagenda flipped through on her terminal for the last 24 hours was, for her, a long and intense vivid memory of stories such as these – filled with painful obvious proof of what they had, what they could have been – moreso, what they should have been.

To Batman, it was a face that kept coming up repeatedly.  She had accessed them enough times in a small enough time frame to get noticed.  It was enough notice to trigger Bruce to find out who the man in the images was.  However, but the stories behind all of these images, once shared brilliantly between two minds, now lived within Vagenda and Vagenda alone.

This wasn’t the death of an ambiguous man mostly unknown to the world.

This was the death of romance.