Chapter 21: Never Meant to Know.

  “Alone… at the edge of a universe, humming a tune.”

  April 12th, 1991.

  The Clock read 11 AM.

  Link II woke up this morning to his shift to earn extra cash.

  A Graveyard shift on an actual graveyard.

  Having to bury bodies at the nearby cemetery.

  Earning a hefty price for the amount of bodies he buried.

  Working for about 5 hours, earning him a paycheck of 300 bucks.

  It wasn't much, but it was additional to the money he could already summon.

  As he got dressed in a red suit and tie, comparable to that of The Weeknd's after-hours era.

  Jamming to his CD player, the starting song of the Good & Evil album by Tally Hall began to play.

  Never Meant to Know.

  The song played nearby on a speaker.

  Sounding better in quality when farther away.

  His dance movements childlike yet mixed with those of an experienced and traumatized adult.

  Awkwardly moving around the floor while the song sounded like a mental breakdown mixed into a medieval tune.

  The clock read 11:30, time moved.

  As he was preparing to leave, his head kept hurting from some sort of a headache or migraine.

  Link II didn't know the difference between it, only hearing the constant thumping of his head that sounded like drums.

  Knowing that he felt sad because something was missing in his life.

  He began to walk on the streets of Compton.

  The cracks in the crosswalks drawn to him, looking deformed and broken.

  Meanwhile glancing at all the dangerous people walking around him.

  The air filled with noise.

  Tweakers walking, biking around.

  Thinking of how they could sell him out to gangsters for some dope.

  While gangsters that could shoot, kill, rape & pillage himself or his home, hid in alleyways or with their groups.

  Prostitutes doing their illegal job, possibly selling Link II out for some money also.

  Everybody having pride and greed in common, resembling a balance of the Ampersand in this town.

  Suddenly, Link II was grabbed into an alleyway.

  And began so much chaos happening in that moment fast.

  So quickly that he couldn't react.

  Grabbed by his shoulder, punched in the face hard enough to knock Link II out.

  Weak enough to take a blow as it ringed out in his ears.

  Fading slowly into darkness.

  …

  Yet Link II lay in an alleyway, waking up to a gun in his face.

  A Glock 19 aimed at his forehead, his vision returning, now seeing who was in front of him.

  Some dude with a durag on his head, wearing a white wife-beater tank top, and his pants baggy.

  “So… you gonna give us the fancy suit? Cause me and my homies need some motherfuckin’ swag for the hoes, you know?”

  The man spoke, his tone filled with aggression, hesitant at first, Link II began to think.

  While deciding, he heard that same voice again, remembering that last time he saw him being his training.

  “You want me to kill these fake ass fuckers?”

  Duckworth spoke, his tone back to its stoicism yet again.

  Trying to decide between morality and justification for murder.

  On one hand, he could just remake the suit again, but at the same time he had the option to fight back and kill them.

  But it's the same equation nonetheless.

  The man spoke yet again.

  “Hey, you gonna fucking decide? We ain't got time for you, boy. So choose. Gun or suit.”

  Link II nodded, calming down enough to stand up, slowly pulling off his suit…

  And pull out a Glock 19.

  Shot within milliseconds like a punch through his gut.

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  Right after, he didn't notice the other 3 gangbangers behind him.

  Jumped towards him, firstly getting a punch by his jaw, making him stumble unto the ground and drop the Glock 19.

  While the two gangbangers kicked him hard, each foot hitting his body all around like a carnival.

  During Link II's beating, he covered his face to not let them inflict concussions to his head.

  Rather preferring the lower pain than above.

  Eagerly, one of the gangbangers grabbed the fallen Glock 19, preparing to aim at Link II.

  “Oooooh boy, you gonna get whatchu deserve for messing with a real n***a in the streets”

  Just as the gangbanger pulled the trigger, the gun rang out like a bell.

  Yet… something changed.

  …

  The man's hand turned around and reversed the shot, hitting his own head instead.

  As the body fell, making a huge plop unto the concrete floor.

  Link II was upright, now holding the Glock 19 in his hands.

  Glowing with a purple hue, his eyes filled with intertwined disappointment and anger at the same time.

  Represented by one glowing purple, the other one glowing green.

  Then the gangsters rushed up to avenge their dead homie.

  Their feet hit the concrete as he ran for a punch to Link II, thumping like an elephant with each sprint.

  While he stood completely still, almost robotically.

  Link II stopped his incoming fist with his hand, twisting it upwards, ripping it off the bone like a turkey leg.

  The gangster screamed in pain, Link II then grabbed his Pharynx ripping it out like a toy.

  Looking at the tube-like gut in his hand, staring at it for a moment, murmuring to himself.

  “Huh… is this what human anatomy looks like in real time?

  Interesting…”

  The gangster dead on the floor.

  Meanwhile the other gangster stood, frozen in fear, his hands and legs trembled.

  And Link II spoke to him, almost sounding like a mix of his own voice and Duckworth's.

  “I'll fucking rip your insides out if you don't leave, now.

  You fake ass motherfucker, psst.

  so fucking sad that mortals can’t handle body guts casually.”

  The gangster bolted like a moth to a flame, while Link II limped back to his job.

  Walking to his job, Duckworth spoke to him again.

  This time with the tone of a proud father of his son for winning a fight, laughing all about it while Link II stayed stoic.

  “Ha! Did you see those fuckers? You were all like ‘oh no!’ And how they had a gun pointed at you, and I didn't even have to do anything, and you won, you finally moved around and won, fatass!”

  As they arrived at the cemetery, still having bruises on his body, yet he couldn't feel the pain receptors in his brain, just the weird zit-like bruises on his face.

  Sliding over the wet grass for fun, almost like a sharp bike turn at the corner.

  While they rolled in, they saw a stranger at the closing gates, staring at the black cemetery gates.

  Asking.

  “Hey, what time is it, sir?”

  They replied with an uneven tone. “Oh, it's like 1 or 2 pm, the guy running this place nearby closed early because some crips were planning an attack on the Asians or something…

  I don’t know, I don't work here.

  But I do know that I was supposed to give a kid a paycheck? Sounds weird, am I right, I mean, who would hire a child to bury bodies, it feels kinda dark to hire a boy to do so anyways…”

  Then, Link II hesitantly spoke.

  “Yeah… s-sir, may I have that paycheck? I work here.”

  Came back the silence as the stranger stood in thought.

  Each moment felt like a heartbeat of tragedy.

  Beat.

  Beat.

  …

  “Ha! Yeah right, like you work here, child labor was abolished back in the 1930s something, there's no way you can work here legally anyways…”

  But to Link II, he was tired of waiting, so he quickly snatched it away from the stranger.

  Thinking that they wouldn't care about a simple paycheck of $300.

  Stopped by the stranger, yelling.

  “Stop! I’m not letting you take this honorable mans money from me-”

  Before the sounds of a bullet rang again, hitting the man in his gallbladder and sent him stumbling to the floor.

  Just as he turned to the right to see…

  The pistol he stole, emitting smoke from his pocket, additionally making a hole from it.

  Yet Link II could only stare in confusion, wondering how he fired his gun.

  Feeling framed rather than guilty.

  Immediately bolting away as his feet echoed in the empty streets.

  Not expecting so much silence.

  Eventually, he slowed down to a walk.

  During it, Link II was thinking about the events happening around him.

  Gangsters fighting back and forth.

  People dashing for clothes.

  All like it was the end of the world.

  And in the midst of the silence, Duckworth spoke out of boredom.

  “Ughhhhhhh, when are we gonna get home… Fatass, can't you move those lard legs faster so we can play music? I wanna hear more angry Kendrick songs. I wanna feel like that n***a in the streets.”

  Link II ignored Duckworth, too occupied with the fear and trauma he felt from those few moments.

  Not liking the feeling of killing an innocent man or gangsters, even if both weren't innocent in intentions.

  Finally arriving home, his clock reading 3 PM.

  Falling onto the couch like a blob, his hands faintly bleeding from injuries, surprised at the blood.

  Feeling shivering but yet no pain at all like stuffed adrenaline.

  His eyelids slowly fell like rain, dimming in the light.

  Starting to bleed from his nose, he could taste the blood on his lip as he slept.

  The final thing he saw was the gravestones…

  Darting awake, Link II saw himself in the dawn light, burying the bodies from when he was 6.

  Feeling each heavy thrust into the dirt, the shovel feeling heavier, his body ached for rest.

  As the 6-year-old boy turned around, his head doing a full 180, seeing each other.

  One from the aftermath of the accident, the other in the moment.

  They both glared at each other like adults, fear and guilt impacting their viewpoints.

  The younger one speaks with anger.

  “You… lost it, didn't you?

  Your purpose. You don't know what you are or who you are to begin with.

  You're the soldier boy. The paranoid andriod, the airbag, for fucks sake, need i say more?

  …No wonder Duckworth calls you fatass. Cause you're obese on directions.”

  Just as Link II started to feel sluggish with his movements, his mind rejected inner turmoil.

  Feeling the same throbbing in his head from the morning.

  His mind echoing in the void.

  Images flashing his head.

  Blood.

  Dead bodies and organs flowing out like rivers to sin.

  Crying.

  Young boys and girls wailing out to nobody.

  All for the fate of the stars.

  Rushing towards the bathroom, Link II tripped on the carpet, falling to the floor with a thump.

  Getting up, he abruptly vomited onto the floor, stumbling towards the bathroom.

  Gripping the sink countertop as if he was on a cliff.

  Looking into the mirror, he saw nothing.

  Nothing but pitch black.

  Nothing but darkness.

  …

  Soon enough, hearing the notes of a piano sequence.

  It sounded elegant and beautiful, almost like it was telling the story of someone.

  Seeing faint flickers of light.

  Thinking to himself on what the story could be.

  Maybe the story was about a guy named Simon, losing his lover, and going through the stages of insanity and grief from electroshock therapy.

  A tragic story sensed by the sound of music and piano.

  Suddenly, Link II woke up confused.

  Tasting and smelling blood everywhere, not knowing it was in his mouth, leaking from his nose.

  Hands felt a bit numb from sleeping.

  Legs melted like jelly when moving.

  Feeling as if he woke from life and death at the same time.

  As he limped to the bathroom, he saw that the mirror again contained…

  The Damned, Duckworth, impatiently sitting beside them.

  Finally, the edge of his own world peaking at the edge of the universe.

  All of it absorbed by a black hole, while sitting by, a black silhouette of a boy.

  Looking much older, but still having that childlike body, stared into the black hole like it was his last memory of the past.

  Back to Link II, staring in awe rather than fear, but something about it felt off.

  Yet at the same time, it felt like the dawn of the earth, the dawn of hell itself, feeling as if it was the true ending to his earth.

  Watching everything burn without anger, the consequences of the damned redeemed yet cursed.

  Afterwards, Link II walked outside to the backyard.

  Stepping outside to it, knowing the safety of his own backyard.

  Then, snow came falling down on the ground around him.

  As if it was introducing itself to Link II.

  A somber yet tragic introduction to the snow.