Summon, or She Dies.

[Gildarts]

She had lost everything.

Everything she thought she had, it was a lie and so easily could be taken away, even immortality had its limits. So what was this? What was she, a mere blip in the scheme of things? Too stubborn to let this villain win, now, she was helpless and could do nothing. Nothing but obey.

Christa had lost everything and she had lost herself. All at once.

The pain was a tsunami, coursing through her veins with the immense power of an earthquake, she couldn’t protect anyone from this. Not Abner, not her sister, not anyone who got too close to her, so what even was the point? It felt like death. An ending to a beginning she had never remembered. Her beginning, and now, her end. It was a curse with a burden of fresh pain.

Behemoth had stood up from his chair and loomed over her, bullet wound still showing in his forehead. He tilted his gaze downward, at the pathetic sobbing lump he had created. She’d once been such a noble creature and he had respected her. Everyone eventually becomes this in the end though, when they get past their egos and entitlement, they realize that when death greets them as an old friend, they best have sorted out their affairs and have realized their places in the world. Memories are finite. And the girl below him was a legacy on her knees.

Behemoth liked the power, it made him feel as though he were different than the girl who’s fragile mind he’d just broken, tossed aside like a piece of garbage and not cared which sort of carbonized muck it ended up as. This was his victory, sure, it was wrong on every level, but it was his creation and he would take triumphant pride in it.

He blinked, time drooled on. His head tilted to the side as Christa’s sobs became slow and her haunches couldn’t push out any more tears. The monster was waiting for his reward, his dues and Christa could do nothing but pay up, and wish and hope that he’d allow her to keep on living the monotony of the Omniverse that she’d grown used to. His hand extended to her head as he knelt down, “Shhh.”

And her memory grew black.

Heavy slugs felt like they were eating at her muscle. She was on the stone ground, rocks prodded the bruises they’d left from the night before. A few beams of sunlight streamed in. Christa looked around, then, recognizing the coals for fire and the two luxurious velvet chairs she jumped up, grabbing her gun, though only by reflex, she knew it would do no good.

The image of Behemoth’s skull with a bullet wound in the core of his forehead was etched into the back of her eyelids, she saw it every time she blinked. “Shit, what happened? Oww,” there was an immense throbbing in her head, one that reminded her of what he had taken from her, but one she couldn’t quite put words to. She’d forgotten whatever it was. But not his face, never would she let herself forget his face.

“Katia?” Christa called out, still wobbling as she got to her feet. The caverns echoed her voice back to her, Christa was alone, not even the damn robot was around.

There was no trace of bullet wounds or gunpowder, all her bullets remained in her magazine. There was no trick, it just hadn’t been real. Christa felt a wave of the helplessness, it was crippling, and caused her to collapse against the ground once more. Part of her was missing, but what?

Had Behemoth taken the love away? It only seems like a sane thing to do for a sociopath like him, to deprive others of what he cannot himself feel. But she did remember Katia, and her love for her little sister, he had not deprived her of that, so what then? Maybe it was a name? Or a memory? Everything all felt so… Void. Emotionless. Empty.

The flavor of life had been sucked out in some substantial way. Life was evaporating. Christa realigned her thoughts, “Behemoth, are you still there?”

Suddenly, a form appeared in front of her, his head tilted as he coyly replied, “Why, I thought you’d never ask. Thank you for the favor, but I’m still not done with you, or your sister… Yet.”

Christa blinked, What favor? she thought as she searched her empty head. Like the cavern they were in, she’d received an empty echo, void of substance.

“Oh darling, don’t pretend you don’t know,” he teased playfully, “Anyway, I think I’ll keep your sister, despite the favor you’ve done me. But don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise, and let you out of here alive and well, in one piece. Though you won’t realize the piece you’re missing, so you can’t miss it, see?”

“What are you… Even talking about?” Christa felt the ache of her skull, it pounded when Christa had searched it for reason.

“Exactly.” he said matter-of-factly, “I left the memories of your sister though, so you’d know she’d be happier without you.”

“Did you… Fucking brainwash me?” Christa accused him, she struggled to a stand again and narrowed her eyes to a squint as she looked him in her eye.

“That’s not something you can prove dear, now, if you excuse me, we’ll be off. I’ll free you from this cage when I’m sure you can’t chase us.” Behemoth was all work, no play, now that he’d achieved his goal.

“You’re.. Leaving?” Christa said slowly. Why? Why was that so wrong? Where was he going? Who was he taking with him? Katia, he was taking her away. She would never live a free life if she let that happen. But what could she do? She was just a single person, weak, helpless. Destined for nothing. So it seemed. “Don’t take Katia, leave her with me.”

“Oh sweetie, you’re under many illusions, but let’s get this straight, I’m letting you live, I don’t owe you anything.”

The words were truly conclusive. But fragments were missing from Christa’s mind. Not the part that kept her stable, but the part that kept all her traits and willpower glued together. One part in particular. Though, she may never learn where it went, or if she can get it back. Her stubbornness, however, remained. And that would be his mistake. And he would pay for it.

“You… Can’t take her though,” Christa said, though her brow was flexing, unsure of which truth was correct.

“Why not? Are you going to stop me?” It was a challenge that had more significance than she could realize. He’d demoted her. In her mind, she was just a person, maybe a secondary. She didn’t, nor ever, could aspire to be the Prime that she was. It was a curse that would need to be broken. And there were only ten ways.

“She’s my sister,” Christa said, her tone a little more determined, unheeding of the logic, or the obvious.

“And you can do nothing about it,” Behemoth wave his hand, “It seems I’m off. Toodle-loo.”

His form vanished.

Why was this wrong? He was taking Christa’s sister. Taking. Kidnapping. Stealing. There was no choice in the matter. Flint struck a match, and it clicked in her: Fire.

“Grrrr,” she felt the anger, hot and welding the parts of her memory together, those that had been mismatched and confused by this despicable, diabolical creature of a man. “She’s my sister!” Christa exclaimed to herself.

But I don’t know how to get out, he was right… I’m powerless. Reality crashed down from the hope of the heavens above. She went over what she knew to be true, everything she was looking at currently wasn’t real. She was within her own mind, Behemoth had admitted that much. There was only one way to end it. Christa reached down to the ground, picked up the machine gun, pressed the snout against her head, and with her perfect aim, pulled the trigger.