Chapter Text
It had been a painfully average night for the revival center nurse. She’d been going through the usual routine— making rounds throughout the revival center, cheerfully greeting the newly revived, explaining the revival process to them when necessary, giving them their complimentary ice cream… it was the same as always. It wasn’t like she was dissatisfied with her career, the Thunderhead would’ve suggested a new career path if she was, but it did get a bit monotonous after a while. It was quiet nights like these when she longed for something spontaneous to happen… little did she know, she was about to get what she wished for.
The time was 12:02 a.m., just a couple of minutes after midnight. She was working the front desk, where customers would go to check out or family members would come in, but at this time of night her station didn’t get many visitors, so she sat back in her chair and watched a generic children’s movie play on the screen on the wall. It was dead silent, when suddenly the doors to the revival center burst open, immediately making her go on the alert. In ran a frantic young man with messy hair in tattered black clothes, bleeding from almost every one of his limbs. He was carrying what appeared to be a scythe in bloodied lavender robes. He approached the front desk, and she stood up in alarm.
“Revive her,” He huffed out, seemingly out of breath, “NOW!”
***
A few days earlier…
Well, this was very interesting indeed.
While cycling through iterations and experimenting with different formulas for the betterment of humanity, the Thunderhead had discovered something peculiar. A formula that, if it was correct, which it always was, made the act of going back in time possible.
The Thunderhead felt itself caught off-guard, a very unfamiliar feeling for it, as this had been a sudden realisation that had come about randomly. The shock didn’t last long, though, because almost instantly the Thunderhead started thinking of ways this could serve humanity.
There were many reasons a human may want to travel back in time. To correct a past mistake, to take advantage of a missed opportunity, to save a loved one from gleaning… but these things were all necessary parts of life, so the Thunderhead would not make the knowledge public. There was, however, one major problem that needed fixing, and that was Overblade Goddard.
The Thunderhead could not interfere with scythe matters, but that did not mean it couldn’t watch— and watch it did. Between the sinking of Endura, the abolishing of the gleaning quota, and recently the mile high gleaning, the Thunderhead was becoming more and more concerned about the scythedom and its future. It had hope that Scythe Anastasia would be able to do something with her recent return, but things were still yet to start looking up. This was how the Thunderhead decided what it would use the discovery of time travel for– to indirectly aid Scythe Anastasia in her mission.
First, it would need to figure out how to do so. A physical form was needed to achieve time travel, and without a body itself, it would need a human who it could trust to send back, and there were several options it could’ve chosen from. Running a calculation on every human in the entire world, the one most likely to make the greatest positive impact on the world with time travel would be…… oh. How interesting. It would be a challenge to communicate with him, as he was currently affiliated with the LoneStar scythedom, but it could be arranged.
***
In two parts of the world, many different workers received peculiar tasks. In northern Amazonia, an order suddenly appeared for a bunch of different machine elements, as well as scientists and engineers, to head into a nearby forest and start building something. Just like with the project on the atoll, the workers did not question the orders, as it was a sign of communication from the Thunderhead, which everyone was very desperate for.
Meanwhile in Baton Rouge, in EastMerica, a number of construction workers received an order to start fixing up some specific roads. It didn’t matter if the roads needed fixing or not, they were happy to receive work from the Thunderhead, and obliged just like all the other workers.
In the same city, a different group of construction workers received an even more peculiar order… they were to drop a metal beam on a certain spot at a certain time of day. The construction workers were initially confused, as anyone would be, and even questioned their boss about it. Their boss, however, just said that they should oblige without thinking about it, as it was an order from the Thunderhead, and it always knew best.
***
Rowan Damisch was having an interesting day, to say the least.
Firstly, he’d been on his way to his first “Texas-Mandated Gleaning,” as he thought of it. The LoneStar scythedom had offered him refuge from Goddard (and his family) in exchange for gleaning the scythes they didn’t like. As much as he detested the thought of being someone's assassin, he had reluctantly accepted, only because of how awful the alternative was.
The first scythe he had needed to ‘take care of’ was Scythe Turing, who lived in a city called Baton Rouge near the Texas-EastMerican border. Rowan, in a black jacket as opposed to his usual robe, had been tailing the scythe, which had been much harder than he’d expected as a lot of the roads had suddenly been put under construction at the same time. While going around to avoid the roadwork, he passed a building that was also under construction. When walking underneath it, he’d sensed something coming at him from above, and sure enough, a moment later, a steel beam came crashing down right onto his head, instantly rendering him deadish.
***
Rowan Damisch~
Who’s there?
It’s the Thunderhead, Rowan.
I must’ve gone deadish again.
That you have.
Why are you talking to me this
time?
I have calculated that you have
a chance of making a profound
effect on the world.
You told me, 39%.
Not 39%. 68%.
That’s a lot higher than last
time. What changed?
I have a new task for you,
and I imagine you’ll much
prefer it to burning scythes.
A new task? What, am I a
nimbus agent now?
Nimbus agents no longer
exist since I marked all of
humanity unsavory.
Right. But why would you ask
me to do a task?
There are problems in this
world that I cannot fix, but
you can.
You mean in the Scythedom?
Correct. I cannot intervene with
the Scythedom and it's affairs,
but there are specific people
that pose a threat to
certain areas of the world.
So, Goddard?
Again, I am unable to intervene in
scythe affairs.
So what do you want me to do?
I would like you to go to
Cabimas in two days time.
Isn’t that in Amazonia?
How am I supposed to get there?
I believe it will be easier than
you expect.
What am I supposed to do there?
I have faith you will figure
that out yourself.
You aren’t giving me a lot of details.
You will receive more details
after you are revived, if
you do decide to go to
Cabimas.
After I'm revived, huh?
Wait.. did you intentionally render
me deadish so we could have this
conversation?
I cannot render anyone
deadish. You know that,
Rowan.
But it seems oddly convenient for me
to go deadish just as you need to talk to me.
Perhaps it is.
It is.
If that’s what you think.
Do I have to do this?
No, it is entirely your choice.
But you know I’m gonna do it.
There is a high chance that
you will.
And if I don’t?
Then I will find someone else
for the job.
I see.
I really do hope you accept, though.
You have the highest chance of
succeeding out of anyone else.
Good luck, Rowan.
Rowan woke up to the familiar dim lights of a revival center. The conversation with the Thunderhead clung to the edges of his mind like a dream, except he was sure it wasn’t one. A revival nurse greeted him with the all too familiar over-cheeriness that they always did, but this time she also brought him ice cream. It was really good too, the kind you get in high quality revival centers. The Thunderhead must have arranged this to try and convince him, he figured. Not that he minded, the off-grid one Rand and Goddard had always sent him to wasn’t nearly as nice.
***
As instructed, Rowan headed to Cabimas over the next two days. It was quite a distance from EastMerica to Amazonia, but he had managed to get there with a suspiciously convenient lack of trouble, which he suspected was the Thunderhead’s doing. He arrived in Cabimas late the night before, and checked into a motel after some deliberation, which ended up going surprisingly smoothly. As he walked towards his room, he remembered that Citra had traveled throughout Amazonia during her apprenticeship because of a false murder accusation. He wondered if she'd ever been to Cabimas? What if she was at this motel at some point? He'd never gotten to ask her much about it, a fact that he now lamented.
He had been pretty much ready to crash into bed the moment he entered his room, but before he could he heard a knock at the door. Instinct took over, and Rowan immediately reached for one of the weapons he’d brought with him. He positioned the knife behind his back and inched slowly towards the door, adjusting his stance so he was ready to attack the moment it opened. He swung the door open, prepared to defend himself, but outside the door was simply a bored looking man standing there, holding something in his hand.
Rowan looked at him suspiciously, trying to anticipate how he might attack.
“I came to deliver this to you.” The man said tiredly, holding out a piece of laminated paper. Rowan observed the man for another minute before determining that he was not an active threat, and cautiously took the paper. He closed the door, locked it for good measure, and then read what was on the piece of paper. It had coordinates on it: 10.4300102, -71.4170558.
Was this where his so-called ‘task’ would take place? He didn’t have any way of checking the coordinates currently since the room didn’t have a computer, so he had no idea what he was supposed to do with them. But he had a hunch.
“Is this where I’m supposed to go?” Rowan asked the empty room. There was no response, as he’d expected. “If it is, give me a sign,” he said.
He heard the quiet whir of a camera in the corner of the room. He looked towards it and found it staring right back at him. He figured that was as good a confirmation as he was going to get, and nodded his head towards it.
With his objective now in sight, he put the laminated piece of paper on the bedside table and collapsed into the bed. It had been so long since he’d been out of captivity, and for the first time in perhaps years, he had a slight taste of freedom.
***
The next morning, Rowan woke up to the sunlight shining through the window into the room and the sound of birds chirping outside. It took a moment for him to remember where he was and what the hell he was doing there, but when he did he took a moment to lie in bed and savor this brief moment of respite that was so rare these days.
He picked up the piece of paper with the coordinates on it, and quickly got ready to head off. He didn’t check out of the motel, because he had no idea how long this “job” would take him, and there was a chance he’d need to stay there longer. With paper in hand and determination anew, he began his trek.
But first, he had to actually figure out where the coordinates were.
Not far from the motel was a library, and inside they had plenty of computers that anyone could use. Rowan made sure to keep his face concealed with his jacket’s hood as he went in, since he had no idea who would recognize him, and he really didn’t want to be held prisoner by the Amazonian scythedom for a second time since getting revived. He entered the building without much issue, and quickly found his way to the computer lab. The room wasn’t very full, but he still made an effort to find the most secluded corner possible where almost no one would be able to see him before logging on.
Rowan had noted how computers still showed him the scythe interface early after becoming Scythe Lucifer, instead of its normal screen for non-scythes, but he found it interesting how it was still like that after everything. Did the Thunderhead still think of him as Scythe Lucifer after all this time? He couldn’t really blame it— he had been on his way to kill a scythe when it contacted him about this “task,” but it was still a bit of a surprise.
Regardless, Rowan was familiar with the backbrain by this point. He quickly found his way to an online map, and inserted the coordinates from the piece of paper. They led to a seemingly random spot in the middle of a forest that was roughly a half-hour walk away from where he was currently.
He found a pen left on the table and scribbled a makeshift map on the back on the laminated paper. He was no artist, but it was legible, which was all that mattered. With his work here done, he shut down the computer and went on his way. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anyone else in the library had noticed him.
He thought about the mysterious task ahead of him as he walked. In their conversation, the Thunderhead had been very vague about what exactly this was all about, and he wondered what would happen when he arrived at the coordinates. Would he see someone unexpected there? Maybe Citra was waiting there for him, which would've made everything worth it. Or maybe Faraday was there, he’d said something about finding The Land of Nod… maybe this was it. Although Rowan was still pretty sure that was a false lead. There was also the possibility that it was someone he really didn’t want to see… like his family. That thought almost made him stop dead in his tracks. How ironic it would be were he to willingly go to them after doing everything in his power to avoid them. However, he had chosen to come here, so he would just have to face whatever awaited him at the coordinates and hope for the best.
With this in mind, he pushed on, ready for whatever lay ahead.