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21Novel > Witch of the Web > Chapter 15

Chapter 15

    Chapter 15<h3 style="text-align:center"><span style="font-weight:400">Chapter 15


    <b><i>Rose</i></b>


    <span style="font-weight:400">Heh.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Hahahahahaha!


    <span style="font-weight:400">Oh this is absolutely rich.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Lonnie, despite looking different outside of Lanadel, is easily identified. Willow is constantly feeding me data about pretty much everyone Ie across. I know she’s trans (like me I guess), I know she is one of the more prolific questers in Lanadel, she’s ex-military, and that she’s a ranking member of this little resistance.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Summer’s aunt leads us through a series of hallways that make my storage container maze look like a child’s puzzle. It’s not really an issue for me, as my trusty familiar is mapping the whole facility as we walk.


    <span style="font-weight:400">We pass by several upied rooms where curious faces peek out to watch us walk by. Everyone here looks like they’ve been chewed up and spit out by the slums. It makes sense, since who stands to gain the most if the current regime is toppled? Why, us slumrats of course. I must look particrly odd in my dress and hat. I really should get some more subtle clothing.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Soon enough, we enter arge auditorium of some sort. Physical screens line the walls, including a massive one right behind an empty stage.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Coming down from the stage, is an older man with thinning gray hair and a tired but kind expression. Lonnie leads us right to him. I swear to whatever gods may or may not exist, if this man tries to take on a father figure role with me, I will turn what hair he has left into spaghetti.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Lonnie is the first to speak up after our long silent journey through the building. “Sir, I’ve brought you the women I told you aboutst night,” she announces, her posture bing stiff and formal. I guess that’s the military traininging out.


    <span style="font-weight:400">The old guy just shakes his head with a bemused smile. “Lonnie, dear, how many times have I told you to just call me Roger. This isn’t the armed forces, you don’t need to stand at attention.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Urge to spaghetti-fy rising. I can practically taste the grandfatherly energy radiating off this guy. Sure enough, Willow confirms his identity as one Roger Applewood, father, grandfather and -


    <span style="font-weight:400">Oh.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Oh Shit.


    <span style="font-weight:400">No wonder this guy hates LOG. His daughter and granddaughter had been attending a protest when the jacks fired into the crowd. The whole thing was swept under the rug and the official story became that a bomber was in the crowd and LOG was trying to stop them.


    <span style="font-weight:400">And what’s this? Damn, this is going to be awkward. His granddaughter''s name was Rose.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I know sir - er - Roger, but old habits die hard,” Lonnie replies, interrupting my train of thought. She turns to us and smiles. “Girls, this is Roger Applewood, leader of the resistance. Roger, these are Summer Lightwood, Felicia Everbloom and Rose Shadewind.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Roger’s face whips to Lonnie’s and seems to search for something in her stoic gaze. She nods ever so subtly, but I manage to catch it. Roger turns to look at me. Not us as a group, just me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I try to discuss with Willow how best to turn hair into spaghetti when the old man approaches me. “You look like your mother… but how?” he whispers under his breath. “They had a -” My hand moves faster than I think possible, but with enough precision to just gently ce my finger in front of his lips. It’s a remarkable feat considering how much I’m shaking.


    <span style="font-weight:400">How does he know my mother? Were they part of this resistance? Is that why LOG killed them?


    <span style="font-weight:400">Too many questions, not enough answers. But maybe this guy has the answers.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Could we have this conversation somewhere without as many listening ears?” I ask, trying to keep the stress out of my voice.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You don’t have to worry about bigots here,” Lonnie assures me. “I’m out to the resistance,” she exins as if that has any bearing on me. “It’s one of the things we’re advocating for. We want to better educate people, especially kids about different walks of life.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I just re at her for all but outing me. Willow’s right with me with her fur on end. “Sure, great, I have like a billion more questions about what the fuck you guys are trying to achieve, but we’lle back to that.” I stalk up to Lonnie and get right up in her face. I lower my voice so only she can hear it. “I don’t give a flying fuck whether you’re out to your band of merry men,” I hiss. “I would personally prefer to keep my private business, you know, private.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Summerys a gentle hand on my shoulder to pull me back. She offers me an understanding smile before looking at her aunt. Something unspoken passes between them, likely a direct message, and Lonnie’s face falls.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sorry, Kiddo I-” she tries to say.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Nope, not calling me Kiddo. Now can we please go somewhere private?” I ask once more. The room has started to fill up with curious onlookers. “I really don’t want my private matters being spread like wildfire.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Of course,” Roger says softly, still looking rather shaken and confused by my presence. He gestures behind him and leads us to a door next to the stage. Once through, we find ourselves in a small office space that must belong to him.


    <span style="font-weight:400">The thing about Roger’s office that stands out immediately to me is a framed picture on a shelf behind his desk. First of all, who prints pictures out anymore? At least use a digital frame or something. But more baffling is the image of a younger Roger standing with who I assume are his wife and daughter, but also my parents and … a younger me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I immediately gravitate towards the picture. I don’t have any images of my folks left. Just my spotty memory. Willow doesn’t miss a beat and scours the web for pictures of my parents and puts together an album for me. She really is the best cat.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Is that really you?” Roger asks me as he stands at my side. He’s looking directly at my childhood self. I must be only three or four in the picture. I nod slowly, unable to speak. “You’ve changed a great deal then.” He trails off and wrings the hem of his shirt in his hands. “Where did you go? I tried to find you… I followed up on all your parents'' contacts but even Edgar said he didn’t know where you were.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Rage. Unyielding, burning rage fills me so full I feel like I’ll set fire to the room around me if I don’t calm down. “That miserable sack of shit!” I scream.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I - I beg your pardon?” Roger hesitantly asks.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Edgar! He knew exactly where I was! I wasying on his cot exchanging sexual favors for training!” I let out an infuriated wail and nearly smash my fist into the picture in front of me. “He never said anything about other people looking for me!” I screech.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Summer rushes to my side and wraps me in a hug. Felicia is close, but clearly unsure if she should offer her own touch. It’s for the best, I’m barely able to tolerate Summer’s closeness at the moment.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, V- Rose, you poor thing. We were all terribly surprised when we found out about Edgar’s darker proclivities. I…” I don’t let him finish whatever titudes he intends to offer. I don’t want them.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Save it. Let’s focus on the task at hand alright?” I snap back as I push Summer away from me. “What’s the deal with this resistance? I was under the impression it was about taking down LOG. What was all that about teaching understanding and shit? What do the loggers have to do with that?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">They’re all staring at me with looks ranging from concerned to pity. I try and wait for them to get their shit together, but they just look so awkward and worried.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Fuck.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Just FUCK!


    <span style="font-weight:400">I don’t need any of this shit!


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Fuck this. I’m not dealing with being a sob story for you all to feel bad for,” I growl at them. “Come find me when you’re ready to actually do something!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Wait, I locked the door, hold on a second,” Roger tries to say but I just wave him off.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t care!” I retort as Willow and I just walk through the door like it’s not there. Let that get them thinking about important shit.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I immediately regret my actions as there are at least twelve people milling about, all staring at me as I defy thews of known physics.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Could this day get any- Nope! Not going to finish that thought! I’m not manifesting that sort of contrived bullshit!


    <span style="font-weight:400">My slightly heeled shoes click across the ground as I storm past the gawking onlookers. Willow had located an unupied room on our way in, so I’m making my way there. No more ghost shenanigans though, I do want them to eventually find me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">It only takes us a few minutes to find the room and I’m starting to regret storming off already. The room is locked, but that doesn’t stop us. What does make me pause is the fact that this was clearly some sort of office space belonging to my parents. I can see another picture of a slightly older me in a digital frame. There’s a few knick knacks that clearly belonged to my parents. And to top it all off, there’s a diskbeled ‘For Our Child’.


    <span style="font-weight:400">With shaking hands, I take the disk and ce it in a yer sitting right beside it. The screen sparks to life with the image of my parents, just as I remember them.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hey there sweetie,” Mom says, her voice filled with sadness. “I hope you never need to see this video, but we both thought it’d be a good idea to exin a few things just in case.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Willow hops up onto the desk and peers at my parents intently. The look on her feline face is a match for my own. What the hell?


    <span style="font-weight:400">“To start with, we just want to say that no matter who you choose to be, we will always love you,” Dad continues. That sounds suspiciously like - “Even if you want to be someone totally different than we know now.” Oookay it’s really sounding like they knew - “So follow your heart, and be who you want to be, whether it’s man or <i><span style="font-weight:400">woman</i><span style="font-weight:400">.” He gives a knowing wink.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Huh.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Guess there were signs after all.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Eric,” Mom sighs. She shakes her head.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, shit, sorry, should we start over?” Dad asks, looking chastised.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, there’s no time,” my mother sighs. “Sweetheart, your father and I have been working to undermine the status quo of our world. We’re working with Roger, and Edgar, and all our ‘work’ friends. If you’re watching this, you’ve thankfully found your way to them. But.. that’s not all.” Mom takes a deep breath and continues. “We’ve been working on a project for some time now. It started as a custom made virtual pet that you could interact with in the physical world, but quickly grew to be so much more.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">No.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“We know how much you like cats, so we modeled them after one. We even got help from a few of our AI friends,” my father adds.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Please, for the love of all that is soft and fluffy, don’t let my life be this contrived.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Something truly miraculous happened though,” Mom continues. “The AI we created for this cat developed unheard of capabilities. They could affect matter in the physical world. Even our AI allies don’t know how it does this.” She steps out of frame as I pinch the bridge of my nose.


    <span style="font-weight:400">This is some anime level bullshit coincidence nonsense.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Dad offers a slight smile as Momes back into frame with a tablet. On it, in all her fluffy glory is Willow. “This hear,” Dad begins. “Is Willow.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Oh for fucks sakes? Really? Did I hear the name before sometime or something?


    <span style="font-weight:400">Holy fucking shit!


    <span style="font-weight:400">“LOG has gotten wind of the project and our sources in their organization have suggested they intend to raid us soon.” Dad looks worried, but Mom gives him a reassuring smile. “We intend to lock Willow up tight, until we’re sure both of you are safe, but should she bepromised, the risk is too great. We need you to find her and free her. Her memory banks might bepromised, so we’ve provided instructions hidden in this video file to help you break any limitations they have put on her. She deserves to be free, just like any sentient being.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Mom sets the tablet down and seems to be fighting back tears. “Remember that time we skated on the clouds?” she asks, sparking a memory. “I really enjoyed the hot chocte we had afterwards.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">The two held each other and nodded before looking into the camera onest time. “We love you so much.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">With a quiet click, the video cuts out and the disk is ejected.


    <h3 style="text-align:center"><span style="font-weight:400">End Chapter 15
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