Masky's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

Brian dropped Tim against the wet stone. Deep in the cave, the waterfall was a distant roar. Tim's shoulder throbbed. He still had one thing Brian hadn't found. A syringe, taped inside his sleeve, the barrel full to the line marked with a careful dose. His last chance to put Brian under and end this without a fight. Tim knew the rule by heart. When he struggled, Brian's rage spiked. Every push had earned a harder blow. So Tim went limp. He let his arms fall slack. He slowed his breathing and dropped his eyes from the stitched mask. He made himself into nothing worth hitting. It worked. Brian's grip loosened. The masked head tilted, reading a body that no longer fought. Tim slid the syringe free against his own palm. He waited until Brian leaned close, then drove the needle at his neck. The needle bent on Brian's collar and skidded away. The dose sprayed useless across the stone. Brian's whole body snapped tight. He seized Tim by the throat and slammed his head back. Stars burst behind Tim's eyes. He had broken the one rule that kept him breathing, and now the blows came fast and blind. "Stop!" Ellie's voice cut through the roar. She stood in the cave mouth, cat mask pushed up, black hair wet against her face. Brian's sixteen-year-old sister. Tim had sent her away, and she had come back. She held a knife in both shaking hands. "Brian, it's me," she said. "Let him go." Brian's masked head turned toward her. For one second he went still, as if the shape of her almost meant something. Then he rose off Tim and moved at her. "Ellie, run!" Tim shouted. She didn't run. She lunged to put herself between Brian and Tim. Brian caught her wrist, twisted the blade around, and drove it into her chest. Ellie's breath left her in a small, surprised sound. She sank against him. The knife stayed where it was. Tim couldn't move. Above them, the air bent wrong. A tall shape without a face filled the cave mouth, and the light warped around it. It reached down and Ellie was simply gone, lifted out of Brian's arms into the dark. The distortion collapsed. The waterfall roared alone. Brian stood over her empty space, breathing hard. Then he turned back to Tim. Tim braced for the end. But Brian crouched instead, and reached out one gloved hand. He touched Tim's face, almost gentle. His head tilted. "Masky," Brian said. The word scraped out rough, the first sound he'd made in days. Not Tim. Not the man Brian had loved. Only the mask. Only the proxy. Brian knew him now, and knowing him was worse than forgetting. Brian's fist closed in Tim's collar. He had a name for Tim now, and a reason to keep him. The punishment for fighting was just beginning.