Wandering amongst the badlands of the empty Earth, Callum looked back; wondering. The path to this outcome. Undoubtedly, this was where he'd arrived. But how- how did it all go so wrong so fast?
'This is the path I chose. All I can do now is give it all I've got. If you want to kill me, then kill me. If that's your justice, this is mine. And at least I'd have died… without regrets.'
After that statement, so bold in its bravado, he was released from the Source's overwhelming menacing nature. The blade no longer pressured his neck, and he was free to turn away, marking his path as he continued to walk down that road. Exiting the Capital, fleeing the forest—only then was the outside world his oyster. If he so willed it, with that Incarnated power in his grasp, it could all end with the snap of his fingers.
But, atop that mountain, overlooking that vast laid outside the Capital's confining walls, he was marveled by that beauty. The stars of the night interlocked with the sunset's fiery hue while the star descended below the horizon. It made for an unforgettable image, one he could gaze upon with at least a single eye intact. And for that, he smiled.
He ventured onward through the outside world, his fingers touching the hands of others, those oblivious to the truth as the perpetrator for the world's lack of reasoning—logic.
One day, having wandered into a Hybrid littered town, he made his way to a store. To his surprise, the clerk was being robbed with a revolver. Entering casually, Callum waved his hand, standing in the doorway. Inconveniently, the bell dinged over his head, announcing his entrance. Suddenly, without so much as an introduction, Cal felt the pistol's barrel trained on him, now.
"Stay right there! DON'T FUCKING…!" The robber peeked over his mask and revealed his skin tone; white.
He stepped on over to Rivers with a smile infesting his lips, a smugness about him that sent irritation to Cal's nails. Confidence oozed off him, one he knew couldn't be fixed democratically. Only with a fist truly humble this man. Flaunting his weapon with glee and carelessness, suddenly, the robber was beheaded. Not with a slice from a sharpened blade, but originating from an uncaring chop slipping off the sides of Rivers' fingers.
"Tch, that's nasty," The former Founder swiped away the blood from his fingers against his pants.
"Thank you, sir! Let me help you clean up—"
"It's already gone," Cal replied, walking to the counter without bloody pants.
Sure, the cashier was puzzled, but where did he get off questioning anything? After all, one look at his skin and that was abnormal. So, he shrugged, and returned to the sight before him, awaiting his unknown savior's chosen items. To his surprise, it wasn't much. Only a pack of cigarettes, some water, and snacks.
"You got a kitchen?" Asked the former Founder.
The clerk nodded.
"Gimme two ham and cheeses on a hero, then. Make it quick if you can," Cal said.
"You got it, boss."
Sometime later, the former Founder exited the deli with his bag a bit bigger than before. Exhaling into the summer's air, he felt the heated winds smooth through his hair, and crease against his temples. Cracking his neck, afterward, he dug into his pocket, locating a lighter. Popping a cig between his lips, he lit at the end, without even daring to cover the stick's butt with his hand. Quickly inhaling the smoke, he leaned against a wall, swiftly venting it from his scarred lips.
"So this is how it is, huh?" He asked himself, turning back to view the cashier from the view outside.
'He's a Hybrid. And that robber was an Evolutionary bastard. Because of the Remnant World's creation, I created a whole new breed of racial injustice. But wasn't that what brought the old world I lived into an end?' Cal continued to walk and smoke, noticing how confined he was between two corridors of overseeing buildings.
'And I saved that man. But for what? Eventually, he'll die, and I won't ever see him again. Surely, everything's already set in stone, but, I can't help but wonder about the start of everything--' His mind flashed back to that hazy memory below debris as a deformed, burnt child, '--what if I hadn't been chosen for my ambition? What if the future I was shown never came to fruition and I could live with everyone normally, as good people?'
Suddenly, he stopped. The corridors of imprisoning buildings to his left and right had stopped, opening a direct pathway into a circle road spiraling around an unknown statue. Curving his direction to the right so he could slip onto the grey sidewalk, he slid past an incoming car slowing as it grazed a corner of his aura. If the driver were to peer at this bystander strutting so casually through the Hybrid projects without animalistic features, surely enough, they'd be worried. But, some humanity remained in them. However selfish the action might be, they continued to drive despite the risk of an Evolutionary terrorist in their midst.
Callum knew the answer to his mind's question. That hypothetical could never exist, no matter how long he spent staring off into the sunny sky riddled with a baby blue palette, it could never be true.
The path he was set on-- no, the path everyone was set on was nothing more than a result of their choices. A byproduct of their nature from the moment they were born. An innate decision they arrive at without thinking twice or sparing time to logically decide. Whoever laid above the clouds, whoever was the invisible puppet master pulling the strings of this godforsaken twisted game they were playing, were they righteous? Was this the true path the New World was always destined to arrive at?
Whether or not everything was preordained that fateful day some 12 years ago, it happened. The former Founder of the fallen nation, Riverton Island, wandered the outskirts of the vast outside world... altered by his desires, his ambitions, and his hatred. Where would it lead him? Where would he find himself?
At the edge of the Hybrid projects, he found himself realizing he'd left the town, and walked at the edge of the road into the setting sun. All he'd done that day was simply walk, sure, he helped someone, but for what? To tear apart the framework of the old society he was entrapped by--how blind was he? In his hubris, he was blind. In the end, his eyes were lifeless. He was the very thing he'd sought out to destroy all those years ago, on the side of the road amid a desert devoid of water, he realized that. In this New World, sans reasoning, lacking logic, the former Founder, the perpetrator of society's downfall... he was nothing more than a half-hearted piece of shit.
Even with this cigarette betwixt his lips, he couldn't drown the depths of his despair, and so, with quivering lips, he choked a sob out.
Unbeknownst to him, and more unknowing to her, Callum Rivers and Katie Moon were the same.
To Be Continued.