The White Rabbit Chronicles - Part VI

“Six! The pilot wave!” Eighteen warned.

Even in the middle of the scrap, Twenty-Six glanced over to see that the setting had indeed been overlooked. She lunged towards it, trying to pre-empt her own mistake when Eighteen struck.

The swift roundhouse to the face pulled Twenty-Six from the control panel before her fingers could dance across it. The fight had already cycled through several iterations, neither girl being able to best the other, as they were perfectly matched. But now, Eighteen had an opening.

She hesitated just a moment too long. The controls were right there, and Twenty-Six was out of reach. Eighteen could reach for them, twist the rabbit hole around to her designated landing point, breaking the arena in the process. Both Sainne and Six’s plans would be cut short with the move.

Unless Twenty-Six rebounded. In that heartbeat, Eighteen settled on finishing her clone. She needed to be sure. She needed the arena.

But as her foot came down to stomp on Twenty-Six, she only snagged her arm. Six had almost rolled out of the way in Eighteen’s delay. Almost.

Eighteen pressed harder on the trapped limb, keeping Six pinned. But bizarrely, the other girl didn’t try to free herself. Instead, she clambered onto Eighteen’s boot, reaching with her left hand towards her trapped right. Eighteen leaned down and started to punch at Twenty-Six’s head. She dared not move her legs and give her counterpart the opportunity to rip away her balance.

Twenty-Six rolled back, leaving herself exposed. And then smacked at the side of Eighteen’s boot. Eighteen was baffled, and tried to decode the expression behind the white and red streaks. Twenty-Six’s fourth strike to the boot knocked Eighteen’s foot aside. Aside and into the middle crown of the watch on Six’s trapped right arm.

The world rattled and spun, and Eighteen found herself standing in front of Twenty-Six again, but now, both girls were whole. The arena had been reset. The fight began again.

Twenty-Six was first to strike, having thrown down the reset and being ready to jive with it. She clawed at Eighteen’s face, and the saner rabbit wasn’t ready for the strike. Fingers tangled in hair, the two rabbits tumbled, Eighteen getting her nose thrown into the console.

If her thoughts hadn’t crashed apart in a constellation of confusion, she might have worried about the gate being jarred. Resetting a destination after a rabbit hole was thrown open was dicey in the best of circumstances. Neither Rabbit was letting those best circumstances bloom. But both were ready to take the shot regardless.

As Eighteen flailed with her legs and sent both of them sprawling to the ground, she realized she wasn’t winning this fight. Clambering for a moment of clarity, as soon as she had it, she found her time gauge and set back the arena.

The back and forth could have lasted an eternity, and truthfully, neither of the time travelers kept the slightest track of how many rounds they went. Each one was short, so the time that would pass outside would be inconsequential. If one of them ever came out on top.

Another reset, another rejuvenation. At least for their bodies. Their minds were strung out on phantom knockouts of fights that never really happened. Both staggered and reeled for a moment even after flying back into their bodies in prime form.

I’m not going to win this, Eighteen concluded. The arena would drive her insane, which meant Twenty-Six had the edge–she was already nuts. Well, if psychological warfare was the name of the game…

“Listen, Six,” Eighteen began. The fact that she didn’t need to catch her breath despite the echoes of past fights let her words come out clear and cocky. “I’ll take your plan under advisement, how does that strike you?”

Twenty-Six snorted out a derisive scoff that danced on the edge of madness. “Under advisement? I’m not asking for your permission.”

She took a swing, a telegraphed haymaker Eighteen saw coming from a mile away. She sidestepped with ease.

Twenty-Six seized the opportunity and lunged at the controls. Eighteen just grabbed at her watch and hit the reset once again.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she tisked. “You don’t have clearance for that.”

Twenty-Six burst out laughing. “I’m a White Rabbit, you loon. Get out of the way!”

She lunged at Eighteen, who was caught in the sudden onslaught. But she had been poised to hit the middle crown of her watch again, and had just enough of a chance to do it. The two of them snapped apart, back to where they had been standing moments before. At least, as they remembered it. After all, those moments had been erased forever from any objective measure.

“Sorry,” Eighteen mocked. “You’re at the end of the line. And it’s not your turn at the plate.”

“White Rabbit the First is dead,” Twenty-Six snarled, launching another furious swing at Eighteen.

Eighteen leaned and pivoted, sinking her knee into Twenty-Six’s gut. This was her chance! She leapt on her twin, trying to finish the job as fast as possible, but Six turned into a whirlwind of flailing limbs. Eighteen felt something jab at her eye and she rolled away in a reflex to recover.

Twenty-Six grabbed her from behind and pulled her to her feet. But before the next blow could be dealt, Eighteen got to her watch again.

“What’s your point?” She asked, forcing as much calm into her voice as she could after that last scramble.

“I’m the best shot Time Peace has!” Twenty-Six positively screeched. She knew what Eighteen was doing. It didn’t make it any less effective. Eighteen drew it out as the scrap began anew.

“There’s a chain in times like this,” she called out, almost sing-song between blows.

“Doesn’t matter!” Twenty-Six growled.

Another reset, another fight. Twenty-Six was unraveling. Eighteen got under her guard. Now it was Six who rushed to reach her watch. Eighteen kept up the pressure.

“And Eighteen comes before Twenty-Six,” she cooed.

Twenty-Six missed horribly as she barked, “Who’s left to say?!”

Time sputtered again after Eighteen landed a solid kick. When they fell back into their first positions, Eighteen had the gall to spread her arms to either side, wide open, as she noted, “There was all the time in the world before. But they didn’t pick you.”

She let Twenty-Six charge, but grabbed her watch before the fist could find its mark.

As Twenty-Six snapped back, she was hit with, “I’m The White Rabbit.”

And she lost it. From the constant cycles through the barely varied fight, her tumble down a rabbit hole before, and the constant pressing from her clone, Twenty-Six flipped her lid. She burst forward with chaotic energy, guard left long forgotten.

But Eighteen had slipped up. It didn’t matter if Twenty-Six’s guard was down if she didn’t stop, no matter the injury. The crazed White Rabbit flung every bit of herself into the attack, and Eighteen was helpless to drive her off. She went for the throat, and once more, it was Eighteen having to turn back time to save her skin.

Twenty-Six devolved into a monster, ripping into Eighteen or flying at the controls. She flipped on a dime between the two obsessions. And that was the trick. Eighteen couldn’t let her at either. In every frantic melee, she had two things to juggle, and no room for error. She was relying on the resets more and more, barely scraping by each successive go.

Twenty-Six slammed both her fists into Eighteen in a swinging sledgehammer, tossing her, dazed, to the side. When Eighteen finally gathered her scattered wits, panic pulsed through her brain. Six was at the controls, twisting knobs and levers, about to send the command. It was over.

Throwing aside her aches and pains and all sense of self-preservation, Eighteen bolted forward. She melded kinetically with her counterpart, bowling into her waist and wrapping her arms around her. And the two tumbled, all the way out of the watchtower.

Twenty-Six screeched, her hand outstretched towards the last switch, now forever out of her grasp. They shot straight for the cascading cosmos of the arena wall.

And without event, the arena was gone. And the bridge below came rushing up toward the tangled rabbits.

***

Director Sainne crept up the ramp, craning his head to peer over the lip of the bridge. Just as he had intended. The lone soldier, barely holding himself off the ground, was watching the other side of the roadway. It would be too easy now.

Sainne leapt from his hiding spot and darted forward as quietly as speed would permit. The battered and bloody Kennedy Frost didn’t notice in time. The last of his senses were fixed on the other side of the bridge, where the Anarak had vanished a minute ago.

The tall, gaunt man swooped down on the young soldier and swatted away his gun before he could react. Sainne’s unnatural physiology made such an effort trivial against his downed opponent. But Frost wouldn’t let it end there.

Broken as he was, he tried to swing at Sainne. It just meant nothing. Sainne batted the attack aside and sneered.

“I hope you’ve relished this run of heroism of yours, as it has come to an end,” he crowed. “As you lie in anticipation–”

Frost jabbed at Sainne’s ribs with his other arm. Sainne winced, wrapped his spindly fingers around Frost’s throat, and pressed him against the ruined vehicle behind him.

“I wasn’t finished,” the Director hissed. “Now, before you are wiped from existence, know that I carry on with the full intention and ability to also remove this victory. And for the particularly personal annoyance you’ve given me, I think I will carry on my retribution to your predecessor and inheritor. Not only will you be hero no more, nor ever, I shall ensure a miserable fate for each of your instantiations. Enjoy that last thought.”

And before Frost lost consciousness, Sainne released him, letting him slump to the floor in a heap. Smiling to himself, the Anarak walked away, keeping an even stride so that the one-time hero could witness his passage into meta-time.

It’s the small things, he thought to himself as he walked up to the rabbit hole.

***

Eighteen tried to pick herself up from the ocean of agony engulfing her. She was not sure if she was alright, okay, or if she would make it. All she knew was that there was still a mission left, and she was the only one who could do it.

Vision poured back into her eyes, the ladder leading up to the watchtower swirling into reality. Just the thought of climbing it sent fire shooting through her muscles.

A shadow flew off from the left. Peeling herself from the ground and onto one elbow, Eighteen inverted the world around her, flipping to her stomach as she tried to find the source of the motion. A streak of white trailed a black-clad form stumbling away. Away and towards the vortex. And she was picking up speed.

Each step, a little of the limp was shaken off, a little awkwardness adjusted to. Twenty-Six might not be able to run, but for all of Eighteen’s ability, she was flying. Eighteen dug her fingers into the asphalt, pulling herself forward before her brain signals made contact with her legs. When her head did bob up beyond slithering over the ground, she hardly noticed how it happened. Her body barely registered in her brain as her soul fixated on the fleeing usurper.

And for a moment, she thought she saw double. Two figures in black, both with long white hair, both making for the portal. Were a few steps as far as this frenzied run would get?

No. The second figure wasn’t a mirage. It was Sainne. He had made it to the rabbit hole. He was directly in front of it, about to step in.

Eighteen searched herself for her gun, but it was long gone. She didn’t have any weapons. No, she had the last resort. And now that she was outside the arena, she could use it.

She unscrewed the crystal lens from the top of her time gauge, and slid it into the strap now hooking around her thumb and into her palm. She raised her hand towards the fleeing Anarak, but her foot stuck on the ground, and she nearly toppled over. Catching herself, she stopped her stride and took aim again.

Her hand wobbled less, but it clicked that her aim wasn’t the real problem. Sainne was directly in front of the time gate. Any shot she made was virtually certain to kill the passageway back in meta-time. And there was no chance she could make it to another one. She wasn’t even sure if she could make it to this one. And that wasn’t even touching the dilemma of snuffing out an Anarak.

She leaned forward and threw her weight into the charge. Each footstep slammed her soles into the hard ground, sending a spike of pain up through her skeleton. And she pushed it aside. Speed, speed, speed, was the only thing that mattered.

She wouldn’t be the first one through the rabbit hole, but she had to be the second.

And Twenty-Six had locked on to the same idea. She was doing her best imitation of a sprint, looking hardly better off than Eighteen felt. But she had a head start.

Eighteen quickly clued in to the only option available. She raised her hand again, but didn’t bother to steady it. She cranked the power and hit the button.

The powerful flash snapped through the air, singing the back of Twenty-Six’s mane. She nearly toppled over, a hand scraping street as she propelled herself upright again. Eighteen took a breath, took a step, took aim.

Another brilliant blast, and Twenty-Six nearly fell over backwards while reeling away from the light. But once again, the raw energy burned through air. This time, it didn’t even leave the other rabbit singed.

Eighteen grimaced, but couldn’t afford to slow. She could afford to keep shooting, and she’d wipe out her counterpart–it was just a matter of time. It felt good to have it on her side, at least partially, for once.

But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the other shoe dropped. Whether Sainne saw the flashes and upped his speed, or had simply been given enough opportunity regardless of the two girls, he was inside the portal. The swirling and cascading lines of power orbited him as he became the center of the maelstrom. Bathed in light, his snowy hair was practically invisible, and his melting form was little more than silhouette.

Eighteen thought she could catch a mocking wave and laughter, but it could have been her battered mind. With a final wink, the great portal swallowed the figure, and his shadow fell far, far into the recesses of time.

This was it. The meta-timeline was eating itself now. The moment the rabbit hole collapsed on itself, it would all be over. Everything and everyone here would be annihilated from existence. White Rabbit the Eighteenth was gripped in a cosmic terror she had scarcely imagined possible.

She fired again at Twenty-Six, in desperation for something to do more than anything. And missed worse than ever. Because Twenty-Six was gone.

Eighteen caught the merest glimpse of alabaster strands flicking beneath the lip of the bridge, and leapt wildly at any thought which would explain a jump to the pits below. But it only took a second to remember that wasn’t the real edge. There was a side path – one lower than the road proper, that ran alongside it.

And it ran right up to the gate. It was coming up fast, but not fast enough. Even with the detour, there was no way Eighteen could outrun her adversary. She’d pop up at the edge of the gate and dive in.

Eighteen raised her crystal ray, readying to fire the second Twenty-Six’s snowy head popped up over the ledge, but immediately realized it was hopeless. She’d have time for one shot, tops, and there was no way that this third time would be the charm.

Not unless she had charge.

It was her last, desperate hope. She grabbed onto her time gauge and cranked the dial on top. Max power. She didn’t need to aim. She just held her arm a little to the right of the time gate and its collapsing rabbit hole. Just enough to prevent the seismic blast from clipping the rings. Everything else would be history.

She ran. She nearly fell. But she kept her eyes fixed on the edge. Waiting for the sign.

She had almost convinced herself she had missed the other white rabbit when it happened.

Twenty-Six burst up the ramp, practically throwing herself at the center of the sucking maw at the edge of the installation. Eighteen clamped her hand down on her watch, and it exploded.

As if a sun had suddenly popped into existence on the roadway, everything was scorched in piercing white light, scouring every inch of the target area. This time, Eighteen got no final image of a figure being consumed by brightness. One moment, Twenty-Six was poised in midair, an expression of utmost determination shaping her features, and the next, Eighteen’s eyes were blanketed with the piercing glow.

She tripped and went sprawling to the ground. She couldn’t see anything except one giant trippy spot where the world was supposed to be. She patted the ground, assuring herself it was there, and frantically turned her head one way and then the other. But her ocular nerves weren’t transmitting anything useful.

But as her inner ear recovered from the unwanted summersault, she got enough of a grip to feel it. The tug of the terminating vortex. The last of the air being sucked into the gate.

She surrendered herself to the pull and hobbled towards it. She could hear the intense whooshing get louder and louder as she approached. And she could feel a cold tingle start to wash over her. She had never felt that before. It wasn’t the rabbit hole. It was time unravelling.

As the sound reached its peak – the roaring like a waterfall – she threw herself in. She threw herself to the mercy of time, and was erased from the meta-timeline.

…

END TRANSMISSION