Sparrowhawk: Futures Imperfect - Connecting The Dots
September. 2026 AD.
The Black Valkyrie gun feels heavy in my hand, heavier than it has ever been, as I slide it into its holster. People fear death, and with good reason. Its a common reaction. Its when people fear living is when we realize that we have reached an impasse. I reach for my goggles. currently draped around my neck, and lift them upwards around my face and into place. Sensors light up inside them, the AI system known as MOTHER activating. My surroundings turn digital as the goggles adapt and respond to their wearer.
I was perplexed when I started seeing the way that society began to shift, away from the bright glow of their super powered champions and more towards the seedy politicians who called for crackdowns on those who defended the common man. My mind struggled to understand the prominence that Doctor Kaufmann, whose extensive criminal background was well known and documented, had reached across the masses. Most people live in the moment, accepting the world around them for what it is at any given time. I have never been one of them. I zip up the skin tight black bodysuit, the sound of each tooth connecting emanating in my ears as I continue to prepare myself.
When I discovered how Kaufmann actually was able to rise in power, the answer shocked even myself.
One hundred and thirty four. That was the number of times I discovered that our current timeline had been tampered with, each version reset with slight alterations to prevent us from directly changing the course of things as we continued in vain to stop the inevitable. The worst part is that no one knew... no one still knows, aside from myself. Each time was like a child learning and growing, evolving to ensure that they would finally succeed. Everyone existing currently into this timeline is bound by certain rules, guidelines we are unable to break free from. You see, the Doctor wasn't behind the turn of events that led to us being ostracized by those we were sworn to protect. In fact, he was just another pawn in this game. There was something... someone, actually... much bigger than a simple assassin and gang leader.
He's guaranteed that we won't win. People will die. Friends will die. I've spent hundreds of hours running the numbers and I've played out every possible scenario MOTHER could present. I don't personally believe in hope. I find it a luxury and crutch for the naive and the weak. I believe in the reality of the situations we face in life, balancing the pros and cons, cause and effect. From across the room, my two Bio Electric Batons await, their silver sheen glistening off the light from outside as it cascades in. I come to collect them, yet I'm in no hurry.
I've lived a life of secrets, and the largest one I'll be taking with me. We are all puppets in this world; I'm just one that noticed the strings. As I've said, however, I can't personally change the world or its impending future on my own, or even with my friends and allies. The dice are loaded, and we HAVE almost won before... only to find that time finds itself being bent, again and again, preventing us to change our outcomes. That doesn't mean that I have sat idly by, awaiting the future with eyes shut and accepting this. The loss of Tesseract, all those years ago, started my investigation into utilizing gravity wells and relativity to delay and even stop time. I found that my research would serve a different purpose... not in finding her, but in designing a weapon meant to stop HIM. In addition, I've tethered chronal spheres deep beneath the Barlowe, each one functioning as a PORTAL with the ability to not just cross space, but time as well. While I have discovered we are now locked into this timeline, those from outside this timeline are not, if my theories are correct. Others will be coming to aid us. The Protectors of another world, one whose lives are not bound to the whims and rules dictated by our current 'master'. Unfortunately, time is unpredictable, full of variables. Help could come tomorrow. It could come in twenty years.
Reaching for the batons, I connect them into one long, silver hued jo staff and secure it on my back. My walk to the Barlowe's main meeting room seems like hours, though I'm there in under a minute as I enter the elevator and am taken three floors down. Time is fluid. Your first kiss can feel like forever. Looking back, your youth feels like it is encompassed in moments. Time. Our true enemy these days.
Fear has never been something I've understood well, but worry is. I worry about the fates that will befall each of my friends in succession, how their lives will unravel if this story is allowed to play out. I've seen the strings, and yet I also cannot tear them away. The fabric of our reality would just be torn asunder and it would all come back again to square one. I know this. I continue to move to the main control hub, past a long, currently dim hall that was outfitted with the memories and wonders of former adventures. Better times, for sure.
"MOTHER, please... tell the Protectors that I have a lead on Doctor Kaufmann's current enterprises. Something is not quite adding up. I'll let them know when I learn more," I say, addressing the omnipresent AI within the headquarters.
I know that I'm lying as the words are uttered from my lips. I'm sorry, Erin. I'm sorry, Razira. I'm sorry Carter, Audrey, Sunny, Doll, Craig... you all deserve better than this. Perhaps I am doing the wrong thing, perhaps I should let them know. Though by exposing the truth, we are doomed again. And again. And again. That's simply a variable I cannot commit to. I continue and will continue to second guess myself. It's a feeling I've never exactly been familiar with until now.
Taking the elevator to the Barlowe's hangar, I saddle up on my gravity cycle, the Nightbird, as it waits for me. I know I won't be coming back to what I've considered my home for so, so many years. My own story is concluding. Its now simply a matter of finishing that final chapter, setting aside the book and turning off the lights to go into that sweet night. The last trace of me is what I've set into motion. It's what I've always been good at, playing the long game... and although my conscience is haunted by my actions, at least I have done what was needed. What was necessary. What was right.
As my bike takes to the skies, my puppet strings guide me to my end... and yet perhaps one day, a new beginning.
