Part 16: A Legacy Burns

Oliver sat tight in the passenger seat of Cyrus' armored car as it sat in the busy highway. Cyrus looked on at the rows of brake lights through the tinted windows, patiently tapping his mechanical fingers against the steering wheel. All sorts of giant, winding buildings and odd-looking vehicles filled the distant city scape, as the networks of roads peered over the abyss below, a reminder to Oliver whenever he passed by that he'd almost been sent careening down there not even a month ago. The chilly air from the AC gently blew against his thick, grey fur. The last time Oliver had been in this car, things had not went so well, to say the least. The bulky handgun sat in the back of the koala's pants, as he adjusted his seat. The thought that he would rub up against the safety and vaporize his rear end lingered in the back of his mind.

The two sat in silence, the elephant in the room taking up the entire back seats and hitting them in the head with its massive trunk. Oliver genuinely had no idea what was going on, but at this point, he couldn't bring himself to ask. He looked at all of the flashing billboards and street signs, as the ads seemed to change to things they were interested in as the car passed by them.

"Sure is a lot of traffic out here." He tried to fill the silence with small talk. 

"Too damn much." The conversation died right then and there, as the silence returned. What was he supposed to do, talk about the weather? It was always the exact same temperature out here. As they inched closer to their destination, Cyrus tied back his dreads into a ponytail with cybernetic speed. Oliver recognized this part of town.

"When we get to the place, just follow my lead. I'll do the talking. Don't do anything unless things get hairy." He slid a small vial of clear liquid into his wrist compartment as they stopped at a light.

"How am I supposed to trust you?" The words blurted out of Oliver's mouth.

"Pardon?"

"After you tried to kill us, how can we trust that you're on our side?"

"Oh, you don't have a choice." Cyrus' face remained unchanged. The light turned green as the car started moving again. "It's your universe at stake, not mine." Oliver looked down at the floor. He knew Cyrus was right. They were effectively scrambling to figure out a plan that would inadvertently be not only a Hail Mary, but an outright suicide mission. Cyrus had more experience in this field of work than any of them combined. It was a stupid question. Cyrus looked over at him, slightly bemused.

"That's the thing, little man. You really don't know how leverage works, do you?" The car turned right into the parking lot of Grits' Auto as he shifted into park. "Watch and learn."

They got out of the car, where a familiar, terribly disguised animatronic sat at the front desk, with a stiff, robotic wave.

“HELLO. WELCOME TO GRITS’ AUTO. WHAT SEEMS TO BE-"

"V, it's me. We've got to talk."

"V?... NEVER HEARD OF THEM. I'M THE OWNER OF THIS HERE AUTO SHOP... GRITS." Cyrus sighed through his nose.

"Warped rotor, possibly from a bent rim, driver's side lock. Highlander." The mechanical floors opened up, revealing the secret underground control room, where the wad of tentacles sat at their desk, gibbering into their translator.

"Well, aren't we in a hurry today." 

"V, we got a situation on are hands. Hopin’ you can help us out.” They crossed their tendrils as Cyrus spoke.

“Go on.”

“We need someone with connections, someone with the means and the know-how to help us mobilize. Someone who can potentially get you into tough places, and get into those enforcer network towers.” V continued typing, as they rolled their single eye.

“An insurrection? I’m trying to run a business here, Le Rook.”

“I’m aware. You’re an expert of getting people in and out of this dimension. How would this be any different?” Cyrus leaned in. “This pans out, you’ve got a major business opportunity here. More power. More influence. A bigger safety net.” The cantankerous being weighed their options, looking back and forth between the two, focusing on Oliver. They squinted at the koala with faint recognition, before looking back at Cyrus.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but how should I know you’re in the space to deliver on your end?”

“I got guys.” Cyrus pulled up the specs on his data plan, and sent them to the device in V’s control panel. They looked through them, intrigued. “We’ve been doing business for how long now? You’ve seen me come back through that portal of yours how many times. Safe to say I’ve got the means, we just need your help.” They inched forward towards Cyrus.

“You know the rules, Le Rook. Cash first. Then we’ll talk.” They glanced back at the screen. “We’ll start with five mil, go from there.” Oliver grew worried. Where were they going to get 5 million mocred? Before Oliver could even open his mouth, Cyrus shot him a quick glare, then turned back to V, calm as could be.

“This is more of an investment deal, V. You’re gonna give us access to your portals and get us into those networks, and you’re gonna do it for free. The spoils come after.” V made a noise akin to a chuckle, before the words came through their device.

“You some sort of comedians now? Get out of my sight.” Cyrus looked down, as Oliver's ears sunk.

“Figured you’d say that.”

Before Oliver could react, V’s tentacle wrapped around Cyrus’ left arm, which shot forward. The gun shook in his hand, as Oliver stumbled back, fumbling for his own gun before dropping it onto the ground. Cyrus shot a dart of some sort into V’s slimy flesh amid their distraction, as they let out a surprised yelp. Cyrus stumbled back, as V quickly pulled various levers on the control panel with their many tendrils. Oliver picked up his sidearm off the ground, shakily holding it in his hands. The massive anti-aircraft turret on the ceiling focused on Cyrus’ chest, ready to fire.

“What did you inject me with?”

“Fire that thing off, and you ain’t never gonna find out.” The tension in the room lingered, as Cyrus put a gentle hand on Oliver’s gun, lowering it down. So this is what he meant.

“Talk.” Cyrus collected himself, calm as can be.

“I’ve injected you with a deadly neurotoxin, synthesized by Professor Pizza himself. And if you want the antidote, which only he can put together, you’re gonna play real nice for us.” V’s eye widened, their pupil a thin slit. Cyrus continued. “With your kind’s regenerative abilities, you should be good for about a week, but you can only regenerate for so long. You won’t feel very well, like you’re getting a very bad cold as it ravages your immune system. Soon after, it’ll eat away at your myelin sheaths, and of course you’ll lose all motor function. Eventually you’ll go into total organ failure which, let me tell you, ain’t a pretty way to go out.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I could be. You don’t know that. But if I’m dead, or he’s dead, or you don’t cooperate, there ain’t no way in hell you’re gettin’ that antidote. ‘That a risk you’re gonna take, V?” V trembled with speechless anger, as they lowered the turret. Cyrus tapped the control panel with a smirk.

“We’ll keep in touch. Let’s go, Oliver.” The two were raised back to the shop floor above, as they walked out of Grits’ Auto. Oliver climbed back up into the car as he did his seatbelt. After watching Cyrus work his magic, he knew he should’ve felt relieved. Things had went fairly well, at least he thought. He didn’t know. Though his worries didn’t disappear; they were simply replaced with different ones. He still didn’t know where his family was. His heart still ached. A part of him felt like it was all hopeless, and that he shouldn’t be here in this car right now, but back home with the people he loved, waiting for the inevitable. Though, at least now they had a plan, and at least he had plenty of people who were here to help him out. Some more willing than others.

He wondered why Cyrus would go through all of this trouble. They still hadn’t discussed payment of any sort, and he didn’t see how this would be of any benefit to him. Oliver looked up at the human, who silently scanned the road with distant, hardened eyes, as he pondered what truly lay behind them.

Oliver’s thoughts were interrupted by a shiver, as the cold air blew. He genuinely didn’t know how he liked it so cold.

“Er, Cyrus, you good if I turn this up a bit?”

“Be my guest.” Cyrus reached over and turned the knob, as the front seat began to slowly warm up.

The research station turned compound was filled with various unknown figures, gathered and organized by Cyrus with the help of V over the past couple of days. They came in a multitude of shapes, sizes, and forms, but most covered their faces and carried weapons on them. It was hard to track just how many of them there were at this point. Forty? Fifty? Oliver couldn't tell at this point, and that was just in the first couple of days.

A few of these figures Oliver recognized from that fateful day at the gate in Sector 7465. It made Oliver on edge to have people around him that had previously shot at him, that had taken the lives of others without so much as a second thought. The situation began to truly dawn on Oliver; they were preparing for a war with Mobius. The city that he had just begun to call his home at one point.

Marcus' laugh and voice boomed throughout the complex, as he mingled with various people. Tiffany no longer wore the tattered robes that came with Madam Mibbitt's body, but instead wore a tee shirt, cargo shorts, and a backwards baseball cap. He mostly hung around Marcus or worked out, far beyond his old, frail body could allow. The professor remained hard at work on various designs and prototypes he had laid out, studying the physiology and psionic capabilities of Mobius. He attempted to commune with his cosmic sibling through several sessions of intense psionic focus, but to no avail.

Oliver sat on his phone, studying up and attempting to study up on Mobius with what little he knew. He was interrupted by an ethereal wail, as a spectral being flew past his head. He dropped his phone as he ducked out of the way.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Tiffany used his magic abilities to float in the air.

"Careful, you almost hit me!" Oliver picked up his phone off the ground.

"Relax, will ya? I know what I'm doing." The echoing spirit continued to grow more and more distant down the halls, as it flew out into the distance. They both looked down the hall. Someone should probably catch that at some point. "Man, imagine how many baddies I could've pulled with this back when I was alive."

"I mean, you are alive... sort of... right?"

"Yeah, kinda. I don't know. Where's Marcus at? I wanna show him."

"I was gonna ask you." Oliver looked around, seeing no sign of Marcus anywhere. The two had seemed inseparable since Tiffany's return, stuck to each other like burs on a branch. Oliver looked around, attempting to make small talk. "When did you start at Profess-" Oliver trailed off as Tiffany floated away, disregarding his question. Oliver rolled his eyes. Well, at least this bloke had spared him a forced conversation.

Oliver made his way down by the hall, stopping by the same storage room that he'd talked to the Wing Guy in. He heard the faint sound of Marcus' voice coming from that direction. It was quiet, as if playing through a phone or device of some sort.

"...I mean, look. When you have a populus brainwashed over the course of generations, coddled by the mechanical enforcers that've been shielding them from reality, that are not only not willing to sacrifice all their creature comforts here in Mobius to end the suffering of countless other universes, but are willing to strike us down and uphold atrocities on a cosmic scale to defend their ignorance, is there really any distinction between your average Mobian citizen and the enemy we're fighting? I don't think s-"

The video paused, as Marcus looked up from his position on the ground, phone in his hands.

"Oh. Hey, dude." Oliver caught a glimpse of the screen, which showed the long-haired Marcus they'd encountered back at the gate. He quickly shut off his phone and put it down next to him. "Just watchin' a video." Oliver grew concerned.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah, I'll, uh, I'll be out in a sec. Just needed a bit of a break." Oliver gave him a teasing grin.

"I thought you were Mr. Social Butterfly or something." Marcus let out a half-chuckle. Oliver sat down next to Marcus. "'That the video? The one you and Wing Guy were looking for a while back?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah..." Marcus grew quiet, as Oliver thought over his words.

"I meant what I said. Back at Professor Pizza's."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not him." Marcus paused.

"These people keep mixing me up with the other Marcus, or Lord Uberkill or whatever, and it's just screwin' with my head. They act like they know me or something. Even Cyrus keeps callin' me Bo by accident.” He looked up at Oliver. “Shoot, even I don’t know anymore.”

“Don’t let them get in your head, mate. Just because a different ‘you’ went down that path doesn’t mean you’ve got to. They’ve just got to meet the real you.” Oliver knew his optimism was painfully naive, but he saw them as two different people. The Marcus he knew was here in the first place to support a friend, the same Marcus who risked his own life to save innocent people, not slaughter them.

"Thanks." He looked down, before cramming his phone into his pocket. His melancholy eyes gave way to his trademark grin as he inched closer. "So, you come here often?"

Oliver exhaled, a mix of a laugh and a sound of fake disgust. "Ugh, gosh. I take it back, you're the worse one."

“Hey, can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” He gave Oliver a teasing smile, as his dark eyes playfully beckoned. Oliver quickly glanced away, before looking back at him.

“That one must’ve killed it with Tiffany.”

“Look at you, getting all jealous.” He shoved the koala.

“I don’t- I don’t get jealous.” Oliver found himself fidgeting with his hands, as he quickly stopped. Marcus raised his eyebrows. Was he flirting? Maybe he was just being Marcus. It was hard to tell sometimes. Oliver shook his head.

“I suppose next you’ll ask if you can buy me a drink?”

“I mean, I would if this damn bartender ever comes over to take our order.”

“Well then, we might as well wait here and get to know each other.” He looked up at Marcus with a cheeky smile. The panda subtly mirrored his body language, before his ears perked up.

“Whup, hang on.”

Their conversation came to a screeching halt when Marcus saw a trio of gangly teenagers passing around plasma weapons in fascination, laughing to themselves. Marcus quickly got up from the ground, shoving his phone into his back pocket.

"Uh-uh. No way." Two of the kids looked at Marcus, surprised, as the Wing Guy walked over.

"Cyrus said we could come in. This is Corey, and this is Barf. Guys this is Marcus, he's cool I guess."

"Well, Corey and 'Barf' can get the hell outta here. We're not using child soldiers. Christ." Corey jokingly pointed the rifle at Barf's head, squinting through the holographic sight and making a gun sound. "Are you out of your MINDS?!" Marcus snatched it from his hands and bared his fangs. The two looked at each other and instantly fled the scene. Wing Guy looked at him, waving his arms in frustration.

"What the heck?! They were gonna help us, asshole!"

"Now they're not. And neither are you."

"You can't be serious! After we nearly died together! Oliver, back me-"

"Don't drag him into this." Marcus sighed, as he softened his tone. "Look, man, what you did back there was awesome, and I appreciate it, and you're one of the most badass dudes I've ever met, and I mean that. But you shouldn't've been in any of these scenarios to begin with. You're just a kid. You've got a whole life ahead of you."

"I'm basically an adult, bro. I turn seventeen next month."

"Yeah, uh, really not helping your case." The wing guy got in Marcus’ face.

“This is BS! You don’t know what I’ve been through, man! What I’ve had to deal with! When you were my age, you got to be a kid! I had to grow up years ago!” Oliver stood on his tippy toes and put a reassuring hand on the wing guy’s back.

“Calm down, mate-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’ve killed for you!”

"And you shouldn't've had to," Marcus interjected. His voice remained calm, yet resolute. The wing guy's eyes burned with betrayal and rage. "Kid, there's a good chance this is gonna blow up in our faces and end horribly. You should be living your life. Enjoying your teen years while you've still got 'em. Trust me, they don't last long. I'm not gonna rob you of that, of the life you deserve. Live to fight another-"

"Bo Shuo. There you are. Come quick, all of you. We've got to talk-"

"Cool, can I finish my sentence?" He swiveled around with a passive-aggressive grin.

"Sure you can. Later. The guys are waiting." Marcus lumbered off, grumbling under his breath. He looked at Oliver with an apologetic fatigue, layered with concern, as Oliver got up.

“Wait up, mate.” He was tempted to ask who was paying the bill, but he could tell their little impromptu game was dead in the water.

The small, rag-tag group of mercenaries, criminals, and former delivery guys gathered in what used to be the mess hall. The large cache of otherworldly weapons and unknown, colorful substances spilled into the mess hall, as a pit formed in Oliver's stomach. The armored figures chattered around them as a few turned their heads towards Cyrus and Marcus.

"Alright, ladies, let's come up with a game plan." Cyrus' voice was calm, yet commanding. Oliver looked on as a large entity, made of crackling fire and contained in a bulky, metal suit which looked more like a furnace, brushed past the small marsupial, nearly knocking him over and letting out a puff of steam. Tiffany and Marcus exchanged a quick glance, as Tiffany held back laughter, despite the tense atmosphere. Cyrus stepped in between them as his voice echoed.

"There's bucketheads everywhere out there. Surveyed the area earlier in the juggernaut. As of this moment, all of you got a target on your back. For most of you, this ain't a new experience, but we got some fresh blood in here. So if you decide to tiptoe out of these walls, make damn well sure it's worth it, or I will personally rip your head off and feed it to my dogs." He gazed straight through the Wing Guy and Tiffany with his burning, red eye as he spoke. "Now, we're all here to try and salvage a very particular dimension before it gets completely deatomized by Mobius itself. As many of you know, Bo Shuo over here is an alternate. Many of you know the original. Many of you know his story. First it was his dimension, right now it's Oliver's, and in the future it could be any of yours. Why they're targeting so many worlds with higher life forms when there's plenty of dimensions of a whole lotta nothin' is beyond my understanding." A cold silence filled the room, as Oliver stared down at the floor. Marcus fidgeted slightly. It was painfully apparent just what they were getting into. "Best guess for a timeframe is a week or two. If we're being optimistic, maybe a month. Our best plan here is creating instability on the ground level while disrupting enforcer signals in key districts. Our biggest hurdle is getting access to Mobius' inner circle and reversing the process in our brief window we have." He paused. "Odds are, most of us here ain't coming back from this one." He turned to the Professor. "Any new developments, Professor?"

"AH YES, WITHOUT A SEMBLANCE OF A DOUBT, CYRUS LE ROOK. WHILE MOBIUS IS A RAA'GUU, AND THUS, A CARBON-BASED LIFE FORM, HAVING MANIFESTED OVER THE COURSE OF HUNDREDS OF MILLENNIA, THEIR PRIMORDIAL ESSENCE REMAINS IN THEIR CORE. IT IS THAT WHICH GIVES THEM OTHERWORLDLY POWER AND CONNECTS THEM TO THE FABRICS OF THIS VERY UNIVERSE." The giant boneless wing levitated back and forth as an otherworldly light glowed within him. The insurgents glanced around, confused.

"...So we just gotta find the core?" Marcus inquired.

"GOODNESS NO!!! DON'T BE FOOLISH, MARCUS CHANG, FOR A RAA'GUU CORE IS TUCKED AWAY, BETWEEN THE STRINGS OF REALITY ITSELF. DOING SO FOR A RAA'GUU OF THIS SCALE REQUIRES A MASTERY OVER SPACE AND TIME, AS WELL AS THE ABILITY TO COMPREHEND SUCH A FORM IN THE FIRST PLACE. I ESTIMATE THAT, WITH THE PROPER EQUIPMENT, KNOW-HOW, AND MENTAL CONSTITUTION, THE ODDS OF EVEN REACHING ITS CORE ARE ANYWHERE FROM EXACTLY ONE IN TWO MILLION, NINE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED SIXTY FOUR, TO EXACTLY ONE IN THIRTY ONE BILLION, THREE HUNDRED F-"

"Alright, so that's out, got it."

"DO NOT INTERRUPT MY CALCULATIONS, MARCUS CHANG!!!"

"Look, I'm trying to be realistic here!"

"Bo Shuo is right," Cyrus interjected. He stepped forward. "I would recommend a full-scale ground assault here. Create instability. We have a clear advantage. The civilian legion within the enforcers' ranks are made up mostly of Mobians. Your average Mobian knows nothing of the horrors of combat. Which is why we have to be completely ruthless."

"What?-"

"Mass destruction. Casualties. A degree of violence-"

"No way!" Marcus spoke up, his face wrought with horror as all eyes turned towards the panda.

"This is our best chance of survival. You've never fought this kind of fight, and unlike your other self, you've got no actual experience here. These people are here largely for you, risking everything. So take it from me, and stop wasting time."

"We shouldn't be maximizing casualties, we should be minimizing casualties! We should be giving Mobians something to hope for, how're we gonna do that if we're running around killing people? That makes us just as bad as them."

"That's enough, Bo-"

"I told you, my name's not Bo Shuo! It's Marcus." Marcus stepped forward. "And we're not terrorists, or- or warlords, or anything. Look, I don't know what kind of game the other me was running with the Uberkill Gang, but we're not those guys."

"Actually, many of us literally are those guys," a muffled voice underneath a mask said in the crowd.

"Not anymore. Look, we're just trying to save Oliver's world here. That's it. Maybe prevent other universes from sharing the same fate..." He paused, thinking about his words. "I can't speak for Oliver here, but I don't think that's what he would want." He glanced at Oliver.

"Er- no." Oliver swallowed, as Marcus' words filled him with a shaky resolve. "Never."

"See? I don't know how we're supposed to go building a better world if we're too preoccupied with burning it down." The professor spoke up.

"WHILE CYRUS LE ROOK'S PITCH WOULD LEAD TO SOME VERY INTERESTING DATA AND, ULTIMATELY, WOULD LIKELY BE LEAGUES MORE EFFECTIVE ON A SHORT TERM LEVEL, I WOULD HAVE TO AGREE WITH MARCUS CHANG." Marcus glanced at the professor in surprise. "ASK YOURSELVES, ARE WE NOT CREATURES OF REASON? IN ORDER TO END THE CONSUMPTION OF ENTIRE PLANES OF EXISTENCE TO FUEL AN ENTITY SUCH AS MOBIUS REQUIRES A COMPLETE AND UTTER SYSTEMIC OVERHAUL. YES, I SEE IT CLEARLY NOW. MULLING OVER THOUSANDS OF POSSIBILITIES, I FORESEE ONLY TWO WAYS IN WHICH THIS UNFOLDS: COMPLETE ANNIHILATION ON A COSMIC SCALE, OR CULTIVATING CHANGE THROUGH TRUTH AND UNDERSTANDING. IF MOBIUS TRULY IS A BEING CAPABLE OF REASONING, AND, IF MOBIUS, ON A SOCIETAL LEVEL IS CAPABLE OF SUCH A CHANGE, THEN WE MUST PERMEATE THE THICK VEIL OF DESPONDENT ACCEPTANCE OF A BROKEN WORLD AND REACH PEOPLE'S MINDS AND HEARTS THROUGH THE PIZZA BOX- THE PIZZA, WHICH SITS IN THE PIZZA BOX AS ONE DOES, BEING THE POWER OF HOPE AND DISCOVERY, AND, DARE I SAY, A PERILOUS TREK TOWARDS A WORLD OF PEACE. THE POWER OF THE PIZZA YEARNS WITHIN ALL OF US!!!" Marcus nodded along.

"…Uhh, yeah. What he said." Cyrus shook his head with bitter skepticism.

"Bold words. You know how much destruction you caused from your little stunt a couple of days ago?" Marcus' ears sunk, as Oliver spoke up.

"We were fighting for our lives-"

"No, dude, he's right. Too much." Marcus' posture straightened. "And that got us all here, and I take responsibility for that."

"Same here, I'm the one who threw the... thing," Wing Guy cut in. Marcus glanced around, looking at the hardened faces of the rag-tag crew, which looked on with curiosity.

"I didn't... know the version of me that you guys knew. That you guys fought with. For many of you, he was a friend. But if he was anything like me, let me ask you... would he have said any of this if he didn't truly believe in it?" Cyrus briefly lowered his gaze.

"I can vouch for him here," Tiffany added. Cyrus approached Marcus, quiet with reflection.

"You realize that, in this world, getting soft will get us all killed or worse?" Marcus glanced over at Tiffany, and then at Oliver. An iron resolve shone through Marcus' eyes, one that had been dormant for his entire twenty-seven years of life.

"I never said anything about being soft. I said we try to minimize casualties as much as possible. Even if it kills us. We aren't the Uberkill Gang anymore." Cyrus exhaled, a faint smile on his lips. Oliver looked on, as a sense of inspiration washed over him. The mercenaries murmured, gathered around in support. Marcus had a way with words.

"Alright, then. We'll lend our aid how we can," Cyrus said. "Now, how do you suppose we go about this? We can still attempt to disrupt the enforcer towers, but we can't exactly talk with The Highest, a.k.a. Mobius itself apparently, and even the High Council are notoriously hard to reach."

The room began to discuss their options. For the first time, Oliver began to feel some semblance of hope. Perhaps he was merely deluding himself, but a small weight felt like it had been lifted from his shoulders, and turned into something else, something which burned deep within him. The panda turned de facto leader grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, which Oliver reciprocated with a smile. The wing guy approached Marcus and pulled him aside.

"I'm not leaving." Marcus paused, looking at the teenager with a serious, pensive expression.

"No one would blame you."

"I've spent enough time running. I want to fight with you." The wing guy's expression was stubborn, not in petulance, but in determination, the weight of his decision hanging in the air.

"Okay then." He nodded and gave the wing guy a firm pat on the shoulder. As the crew weighed their next course of action, Oliver thought over Marcus' words, scrolling on his phone, before a sudden thought came to mind.

"Er, guys, I've got an idea." The crew turned towards Oliver.

"Yeah, what's up dude?"