Chapter Text
The Crooked Branch and the Bent Shadow
It was always raining in the Pale City. That was nearly as constant as the cycle ever persisting, with promises of the sanctuary awaiting the child once he fulfilled his purpose. Dispose the old entertainment, establish himself as the new Broadcaster, heir of the transmission everlasting and eternally. All those questions would give answers, and no more would he know the innocence of rushing into a destiny, with the reckless abandonment the only way a child could hurtle into inevitables.
The tree had fallen at last. The ancient roots could no longer anchor the mighty stump to the cobblestone courtyard, the earth splint open and the stones thrust from the crust like a dozen broken teeth. Once upon a time he had thought such things impossible in the preordained cycle, yet, as he had learned later – much-much later – such impossibilities would become law.
Now peering up at the disheveled branches, he fancied Mono would have been enamored with climbing this tree. He had always been such an avid climber, even beyond fleeing for his life or necessity to reach treasures. Why, when he was once the small and fearless boy with the name, nothing ever stopped him from clambering up into the branches of some gnarled titan. He really should have allowed Mono the same courtesy, maybe taken the boy and set him at the lowest branch to begin his play. Let the little thing fulfill his hearts content to go as high as he might, and stare down upon the unforgiving world. The Thin Man would stand below, just in case the lad slipped. But Mono was such an exceptional climber. So confident. Resolute. He just… could not keep the boy still.
The carefully stacked mound of stones was long ago scrubbed by the cleaving pellets, as if each bead was driving each rock into the earth with brutal purpose. It was a thunderous sound, repetitious, crowding his senses like the tinge of static wailing through his skull. It had been decades since the transmission had felt so omnipotent, the droning buzz threading beneath his skin and knitting his bones to muscle. His whole mind was aglow, yet he felt none of that on the surface. It was all surrounding him, embedded with his entire being, while at the same time suffocating his senses. He had not felt that way in ages, not since when he was that boy and undertook the raw current of the transmission as his own.
As if it had always been his to wield.
The wind slashed at his slacks, the force sent a wild pummel of droplets across his hat and backside. It tugged him from the revere he held for the rocks at his feet. Each one methodically lain, carefully set, as if placing a key into a lock. He had spent hours here, even if he could only stack the cobblestones so high. They served nothing, aside from a marker. For how long would that have meaning to him? How many times would he visit this place to look upon this spot? And why? Such raw questions would disturb his mind in the long moments of quiet. The endless and persisting hours upon hours of waiting, with nothing more to do than wait.
The twittering gale through glass would rouse his pensive thoughts, as if some lost boy sought aimless corridors for a tall shadow meandering in his own reflections. The faint patter of water on wood would forever mock the rap of steps, of a child making a game out of pursuing him without the stealth of hiding away. He still felt eyes on is backside warily tracking his movement as he prowled rooms without purpose, lost in a pointless quest that somehow lost all meaning.
One time, long ago, he believed waiting in the Signal Tower was a fate worse than death. He now knew there was one greater, more unsettling than pining for the lock to click and the latch to dip. A fear greater than the boy poised at the end of the road, relinquishing his hat for the final duel. More potent than the realization that despite his efforts, he had only managed to perpetuate a doomed recycling fate for a foolish child.
That boy had been so foolish. They were both fools. However, he had been the greatest fool of all. Typical.
Another wave of drilling bullets cracked across his back, reminding him of the lost jacket. Not once did he ever surrender his wardrobe, deviated from the uniform he adopted as he became the thing he once feared with every fiber of his being. But now? It only seemed appropriate to relinquish the coat that was near enough to his childish armor he one time wore with pride.
Nothing was left to do here. He could not remain, no need for him to linger and haunt this place. But his legs would not listen to his commands, and he could not compel his form to flicker or shimmer away, deliver him somewhere else - anywhere else - far from this region. The abhorrent pit of the Tower for all he cared, but any place where he could not escape the numbed sensation of gazing down at the heap of stones, which did not need to be so high or distinct but… he was afraid he might forget.
He might forget everything.
The shared transmission had long since gone cold. Colder than the drenched dress shirt he wore, making him so less imposing and distinct in the blinding downpour. He felt akin to the downtrodden tree. He wanted with everything for that tree to stand mighty against the storm, but alas, he knew no other tree in the city as impressive as it once was. Mono would have been so happy to come back here. His face would have alit in that odd little way, not smiling but bright and curious with wide eyes and his intense gaze. Always so focused, so perceptive of every little thing, all the minor noises and drab flashes in the clouds. The boy had a childish way of staring at things which made everything seem more intense, more bearable than he could recall from his youth.
Once more he reached out into the transmission, hoping to find his boy. Beseech with no glimmer in his soul that he was wrong, or the error was on his part. Though he knew where the boy was, he cannot sense such whereabouts. He has only a marker drenched in rain, gray, and cold. Only a visible marker could guide him now, give him closure and a sense of finality in an uncertain world. He despised the sight, but could not turn his eyes away. The rain pummeled him to tatters, he watched the glossy patterns roll off the stones, like wild static on the screens.
More than anything, he wanted that boy to grab his ankle and begin gnawing on him. Surprise him as he had done so often before, when he had his face buried in a pointless book.
“Have’oo.”
“Am Mono keep.”
“Y’lissen. Hey.”
“Shh…” he hissed, into the static. “No… No more.” The rain felt hot rolling down his face. “Just… sleep. I will return.” His lips tugged down, and he could not hide the breaking static in his voice. “I promise.”
He promised. He would return. He meant to. He really meant to. He just… he thought there was a lead, it had potential to give him answers he needed. The closure he sought.
It should not have been this way. It never should have been like this. And it was his fault. It would always be his fault.
Like a toppling tree, he managed to kneel low and set his hand on the icy stones. The relentless rain made it feel as if something still existed in the still soil, despite knowing better. It felt like something the longer he laid his hand there, waiting, the static buzzing through his ears. Somehow dulled without the chatter of a small child. It was time to leave, it had been time for such a long while. He was not ready. He needed more time for nothing to happen, to wait beside the heap.
“I…” He meant to say something, but he could not recall what that should have been. “I’ll bring you a gift. A hat. You always....”
Very slowly and with great care, he rose from his wounded stance and gradually turned away. As he stepped across the uneven pavement, he only looked back one time.
“You. You!”
The rain drove harder against his shirt and hat. Nothing appeared in the mist except the rolling steams of water, flowing into every available crevice. He hoped his jacket kept the boy warm enough. He hoped his sleep was good and restful. He had so much to hope for, and yet not the presence of mind to cherish any of the little things. The mindless scratching, the raspy calling, the curious stare whenever he patrolled the rooms. Endlessly. Aimless.
“I will.” And then he turned his back, taking a fresh step into the falling pellets. Each aching footfall harder than the previous, he was abandoning him. He was leaving everything behind and closing the book. It was all over and he was lost in a world that hated him.
Except for one skittish little boy that had the gall to glare at him.
It was not a glare he left behind. No, nothing like that. The last expression Mono leveled on him was from a break in the floorboards, and that had been so bewildered and also so curious. As if he could no longer grasp the speek his Thin Man made for him. As for the man and his hat, he had not the recollection of what he was telling the child, though he could feel that he had been relating the stories the child oh so demanded. It had been important to the Thin Man that the silly child think something of him, before he wandered off to chase ghosts through the fog.
Now the only thing he wanted to chase would never flee away. He wanted to think of the boy on his adventures, searching for the man and his hat, and all the strange picture speek he carved into walls. Of birds, odd insects, a window, and some things the Thin Man had never witnessed before in his time as that small boy. He wondered if he would find more of those markings, and have a flutter in his chest that the vandal was continuing his stories out there. He was still wandering, looking for things that could not exist, in a city long expired. He wanted to believe his boy was out there, free, feral, and getting into all the trouble only a child could get into.
He wanted more than anything—
__
With a crackling pop, the bulb on the nightstand popped beside his hat. The Thin Man raised his head from his slouched posture, his arms flying out from his sides. The book he had been holding smacked into the nearby wall and flopped to the musty floor, scattering about a dozen insects rifling through papers.
Not really registering where he was or how long he was searching for, the man and his hat glitched into his imposing stature. He barely noted the stiff knit of the jacket as he clicked to the nearest doorway, his eyes barely skimming the floors as he shifted down the corridor. Despite the intense draw and proximity, he ducked into rooms picking over the floor and furniture with his glistening eyes. No shade and no crack produced the mark on his tether, but he had barely honed in on the piercing hum picking at his thoughts.
At last he appeared in the living space, right across from the kitchen. Movement in the edge of his peripheral snagged his instant focus – Aha, the child cringed aboard a desk and coiled for a spring! Right as the child dove off the desk the Thin Man was already there, his rapid distortions and demand on the current caused another light to burst. Regardless, he snared the boy midfall and cupped him in his hands. The boy gave a muffled growl while the Thin Man fortified his grip, and brought the writhing menace to his shoulder. He adjusted his grip and pressed his cheek upon the boney backside, locking the boy in place.
“I H̶a̴v̵e̴ ̴ Y̷o̴u̴.̴ ̷ Y̸o̸u̷ ̷ are M̵i̷n̶e̵.̴ I ̸K̶e̶e̸p̶ ̷ Y̵o̶u̵,” he rattled over and over, voice barely coherent as it hitched and buzzed. He doubted the boy could pick apart the speek. This was apparent by how the child thrashed against his jacket and wriggled, to nothing gained and nothing earned.
He belonged to the Thin Man for a little while.
“I̵ ̸H̴a̷v̴e̷ the boy.̶ ̶M̸i̸n̴e̴.̷ Always mine. ̴ You are A̸l̸r̴i̸g̸h̸t̸.” It barely occurred to him that he had slumped to his knees, and his whole frame was shaking. And rocking back and forth. During this spell, the boy had gone utterly limp – aside from the erratic breathing. The child ceased moving.
The Thin Man did draw him away and gave the boy his cursory checkup, certifying he was all in one piece and no unaddressed injuries were left neglected. The child was a disaster when it came to wound care, it was a wonder how he made it this far before reaching the end of the hall. He never had issue with placing a bandage on the wrist or leg, or cleaning a particularly nasty scrap. Never. It had taken ages, but the child had become receptive of the practice. Much to the brat's personal benefit. However, there were some lesions that a clean wrap would never fix, and some afflictions that made children cease moving entirely ever after.
That would not happen to his Mono. Never, ever would he allow it.
“My B̵o̶y̸.̴ My O̷n̶e̶ and only M̴o̶n̸o̵.̸ I found you. I L̶o̴s̷t̷ ̶ Y̶o̶u̶. I couldn’t… Y̴o̴u̷ ̶W̸e̶r̴e̶--” He dipped into garbled babbling and broken speek. In all this, the boy only uttered,
“Am Mono.”
“Y̸e̵s̴.̴ ̶Y̴o̸u̴ ̵A̷r̵e̷ ̴M̷o̸n̸o̵.̵”
“Mono. Am Mono.”
“M̵y̴ ̸ M̸o̴n̵o̵.̸”
“Mm…”
“H̸m̷m̶.̷.̶.̵.”
The Thin Man did not want to let go of the boy no more than he wanted to walk away from the soggy heap of rocks he built. He needed so much to feel his breathing, listen to his grumbled murmuring, and hold the weight of that little boy.
“Mm’down Mono.”
“N̵o̸.̶ I need T̷o̸ ̷ K̴e̷e̵p̵ you a little ̶L̷o̶n̸g̷e̴r̵.”
“Uh-uh. Nah.”
“S̶h̶h̴.̴.̶.̶ and I will tell you A̴ ̷ S̶t̷o̷r̸y̶.” The boy stirred against his collar.
“T’place?”
“No.” In a laborious climb, the Thin Man carefully rose to his intimidating stature. The haunt had made him feel so small and insignificant, as if he was again a child lost in the city. Except he was not lost, he was only alone, the same as he had been for decades upon decades and decades more. He grew accustomed to it, the sanctuary and steady humming that burned deep into his bones.
“A proper story about a brave child and a callous world.” He glitched through a dank and gloomy hall, until he entered one of the rooms with a window. The glass shimmered with the flowing rain, and the nearby road glistened with the soft shimmer of sorrowful radiance.
The Thin Man stood beside the cracked frame, rubbing small circles into the child’s back. Try and try, he could not shake away the sensation of the haunt. How desolate and alone he felt in the sprawling city. The crushing failure.
“Am Mono child?” came the muffled coo.
The Thin Man took a long breath and exhaled. “Yes. The brave child was Mono. Is that not how the story should go?” The boy was silent, maybe dozing. Let him rest. The boy was persistent in his roaming, scavenging, his unyielding desire to seek and find.
“After wandering the unknowns of a twisted Tower and facing violent perils, the brave child found himself in a long dark and twisted corridor. It went on forever, bending and warped like the creature lurking behind the door at the end of this hall.”
“Was long.”
He stalled, unexpecting the boy’s murmur. “Yes, was it? A very long, U̶n̶n̸a̸t̷u̷r̷a̶l̸ hall.”
“Un-natch’rall.”
“Un-natch-er’all.”
“Ugh-nat’chur’en-n’rall.”
Well, he had a snicker at the bit of butchery. “My word, child.”
The boy growled. “S’not haha.”
“Try again. Un-natch—”
“Nah. No. Story. Un’atch’all hall. And door?”
Sigh. “Who is T̴e̸l̵l̵i̵n̶g̶ ̴ this S̴t̴o̶r̸y̷?̴”
“Am Mono. Make story.”
Very well. “And how does T̸h̶e̸ ̶ S̴t̴o̶r̶y̸ go, then?”
The child made no speek and only picked at his collar. He figured the boy was nesting up and might not get around to his ‘story’, or would fall into messy grumbles. “How E̶n̸l̴i̷g̴h̵t̸e̴n̵i̷n̵g̵.”
“Door. S’open and… eh’monster. Grr.”
“Oh? Of course. A T̷e̷r̵r̴i̵f̸y̵i̵n̸g̸ ̵ horror.”
“Mm! Yah. Sum’much. S’tol. Scary.”
He chortled. The child growled at his collar and gnawed at a seam in his jacket. “That must have been F̸r̸i̵g̴h̷t̶e̴n̶i̸n̵g̵ for the boy. To discover some G̸h̸a̶s̵t̴l̸y̷ monster behind T̸h̸e̶ ̴ D̵o̴o̴r̶.̵ I could not imagine....”
“Am story. Mono t'make.”
The Thin Man was trying to contain his bubbling snicker. “My apologies. Continue.” Keyword. Trying. But failing.
“Scary,” the boy hissed. “Am Mono. Best. N’monster for tol. Him chase. And keep Mono. Am Mono. Y’member?
“Hmm. Yes. I do recall the chasing bit.” With one arm, he began to outline mark speek in the foggy glass. While the child did his best to burble out his broken speek, about the things he remembered of running and televisions, of Viewers and his solitary journey across the city. How he beheld the Tower burning brighter each time he zoomed through another scorching screen, how the rain drilled harder at his shoulders, but how clearer the spire seemed. How much toller, more imposing, and impossibly breathtaking his whole adventure was.
The Thin Man did his best to scrawl out the segments he too recalled, of the floorboards where the child hid. Poorly. While the child snuck and ducked away, the man and his hat tracked the draw of the transmission through broken rooms and stairways, working against the dwindling clock struggling to mingle his foresight and intuition with that of a scared child fleeing a looming nightmare. Time was drawing closer to the hour of his dissolution; it was as foretold before he made that same journey as that small boy. The buildings rose higher, bent further inward; the child wound his way through the roads, fled from the Viewers that spilled from broken store windows. The boy was utterly lost, led only by the spire rising higher in the sky against the black clouds boiling with icy rain, flooding his eyes with their merciless blanket. Every turn he took, a long and distorted shadow haunted the end of a road. Every window he peeked into, a gloomy silhouette paused on the other side of the murky glass and tilted its head. It made no difference where he went, how far he ran, or what path he took - the fractured shadow of his future cast long and eclipsed his own.
Then the story changed.
"Boom," snorted the boy. "Crack. S'burn. Then fall."
The Thin Man paused, after sliding another symbol onto the glass. The cliff, and the girl with the coat poised above a sheer drop. At the edge dangled the shape of a boy. From a distance, maybe it would stump some other creature, but the Thin Man knew this story very well.
"And'oo," cooed the boy clinging to his jacket. "Have Mono am. Rim'amber? Give food. Big speek. Am dest'royed."
Ahha, the 'conversation' he had with that little boy forever upon a time ago.
He set the sodden scrap of cloth on a couch and pondered the comatose body. At a loss. This was not to be. The realization smashed him like a derailed trained. This was the child he so fiercely sought, who now lay in his possession and utterly defenseless. The man nor his hat had the inkling of an idea of what to do, how to proceed, let alone where to begin. All expectations had shattered and he was traipsing through unknown territory. The child was not even his to claim, since the moment the boy awoke and became mobile, the lad would evaporate like mist as was the nature of all competent children who survived to feed the Tower.
"Then..." This is where the boy stalled in his elaborate retelling. He went very quiet, fingers picking at the tweed of the Thin Man's jacket. "Um... am'go... lost. Er'ess... was. Happen. Door. Door. Sum'bright. But yu'know, it happen. Yu'there. Mono am close. Mm...hmm. Not wand'ar. But door, and.... Then sing box. Um... haha. Not funny. But fix. T'fix... am. Mono. Mono. Make loud. For trick. Hurt sing. N'trick. S'good. Hm...."
The Thin Man ceased tracing a line on the glass and knelt low to the floor. He worked to untangle the child's fingers from his suit front, but this task proved to be near impossible. Mono dug in and buried his face against his coat pocket, he made fussy, childish noises as the Thin Man worked carefully fumbled to pry one set of fingers free, then the other, then some toes, then back to a hand; over and over. At last, the child lost fortitude and slipped free, the Thin Man cupped the defensive ball in his palms as he lowered him to the dusty carpet.
The child resembled a pill bug, the ones that could tuck into a tight and armored ball. Except this little bug was made of fabric and growled whenever he prodded its ribs. The Thin Man flipped him one way then the other, working to unravel legs and arms, only too aware of how stubborn this odd creature could be. If the boy had a hat at one point (he could not recal if that were so) it was long gone now, his frazzled hair stuck out between his knees where his face was buried and hidden away.
"B̶o̶y̶.̴"
"Mon-OO."
S̸i̴l̶l̴y̶ ̴H̴e̵a̷d̸."
"MOH-NO."
"I cannot have speek with you when you are being so foolish. Where is my boy? Did he finally become some sort of puzzle?" The Thin Man stayed on his knees, satisfied to wait out the boy. Though that could take some time. Time was all he had. And wait was all he did.
The boy did not uncoil, an inch, but his muffled voice rolled through.
"What was that?" The Thin Man pulled a cigarette from his coat and stuck it between his lips. He did not light it yet.
"Forget. Am lost." The child tightened into his defensive curl, very nearly burying away his head.
"You are not lost. I have you right here." The Thin Man leaned back to peer out of the window's glass and examine the sky. The thick clouds had evaporate, and the streetlamps had since shut off. While the rain was on its reprieve, this would be the time to depart the building and seek other shelter. Somewhere.
"Forget," the boy murmured. "Story gone."
"What story is gone?" The Thin Man chewed on the unlit cigarette, and turned his eyes back onto the curled-up-bundle of child. He witnessed the child peek one eye out from beneath his knee.
"Am forget. Story." the child tucked more into his ball, a soft whimper in his tone. "Happen. It did. And flee.... "
The Thin Man tilted his head, considering the boy's distress and speek. "Some events are best left alone. You cannot recall everything." The Tower knew, he could not recall all events from his prehistory - before the Tower, his adventures. Every second of his tortured existence within those walls, waiting for that door to do something - anything - other than judge his melancholy.
This spurred the child to launch up and grab at his knees. "But forget. Am lost. Y'have Mono. Am Mono."
The Thin Man dithered carefully on the mournful noises. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, but opted to chew on the end of his cigarette. The tyke gazed up at him with such urgency, his eyes already red from prospective tears. How unbecoming.
"What have we discussed, little boy? One day you will no longer need me. You will have need for no child or any other, but for yourself." As before, he regarded the child's path going onward. The unyielding cycle, circumstances he could not contend with, and what this all meant for the little monster before him. One day, perhaps. The Tower would reach forth and rob this child away. He existed, thus that history had never been expunged. Merely postponed. The cruelest mockery of all ambition he still retained, despite it being smitten by the hand of his former friend that Girl.
"No."
"Yes." The Thin Man smiled at the strange boy. "If I could make a different story, I would do so. You always make the speek about my lies, yet I have been nothing but forthcoming with you. Which would you rather hold? The comfort of illusions, or brace for your the horrid truth." The boy looked utterly crushed, and remedied this hearsay by biting his knee. The Thin Man rubbed the back of the horrid beast.
"Why does this upset you so?"
"Have speek," growled the boy. "Speek. Y'mean n'have. Keep Mono. Am Mono keep'oo."
"A̵h̵." How nice it was to be wanted, for once. But how much of this was genuine? What did the child know of yearning and want, beyond basic survival and emotional security? It was all to satisfy child's demands, not the Thin Man's endless quest to seek a freedom beyond all ties. He had sought for countless lifetimes the opportunity to know what he had lost, what a sanctuary without malicious conditions might provide if he was not a tool foremost.
"For a short while, you can keep me."
"Min'nuns."
"Min... Nu'uns?" the man in the hat enunciated, uncertain.
"Min'uns and min'nawts."
Minutes. Minutes and minutes and minutes. Possibly the longest increment a child could recognize chronologically.
"Y̷e̸s̶.̸ That would be fair." The Thin Man slid his calculated gaze off the child and let his view fall onto the window, where the streaks of rain formed weary patterns on the glass. He pretended not to notice the small vandal clawing up his leg. But when the child latched onto the front of his jacket, he did place a hand upon the boy's back. No sound or speek uttered from the child, he only hunkered down and held on tight. Keep him, as it were.
"I have D̷o̴n̷e̸ ̸ you W̶r̷o̴n̷g̵ and made you weak," intoned the Thin Man through a buzzing crackle. "Such crimes are unforgivable."
"Nuhh...." came the muffled retort.
"You do not know any better." Morbid as it felt, he tried to recall the features of the Man in the Hat when he faced him in the street. It may have been lifetimes ago, it may have been, but he still felt that pitying stare of the very tall man as he approached him - the streetlamps gleaming, the sparking light flashing over the washed-out colors of the shadowed face. Folding to the pavement, the man nor his hat looked as imposing or terrifying as he formerly thought; at the time, the boy had no the presence of mind to analyize the monsters features. Only one thing meant the world to him, and it was never going to be the fiend that hunted him to the cities heart. At the time, he knew nothing.
"That is why you do not know how I have D̸e̶s̵t̸r̴o̷y̶e̵d̸ you. The ways I have W̴r̴o̸n̷g̶e̷d̴ the little boy that once stood so resolute beneath my shadow." The child sniffled at last and tucked in closer to his coat.
"Not wrong. Am Mono."
"No. You cannot grasp what I have done, since you could never know how this story was meant to end." He sighed a scratchy sound. "But you are not who you were to be. And that weakness has made you someone...." the Thin Man stalled there, searching for the right speek to make, so the boy would be less likely to quake and whimper. He pried the child away from his jacket and lifted him up. "Regardless what has been, look at the mighty boy now. Such a fearless warrior. A menace that should not be trifled with."
Crumpled between his palms, face red and expression despondent, the boy did not look 'mighty' nor 'fearless'. "Are you not a force to be reckoned with?" He was a bit disappointed when this child only sagged, blank faced and gawking at him. "Nothing to contribute?"
"Dist'roy-eed?"
Ever so slightly, the Thin Man found himself nodding. "D̵i̷d̶ ̴I̴ ̴N̵o̴t̸ say it would be so?" Though he anticipated no more than further silence and gawking, the boy piped up,
"No. Am have'oo. Impor'ent."
The Thin Man gave an airy sigh and set the child on the floor beside his knees. "What sort of T̶a̵s̸k̸ ̷O̴c̸c̵u̷p̷i̵e̴d̴ you before I came upon this room?" In one smooth motion, he rose to his full height; no shimmer or other manner of flashiness. The child skipped back several steps and watched; eyes cautious but not fearful.
"Am Mono. T'get scout."
He nodded, and scanned over the desk the child was formerly perched. The desk did not bare artifacts for inspection, but the smaller might have sought the vantage point for a look around. "And did anything catch your fancy?" The boy shook his head. "Of Y̵o̴u̸r̸ ̸ P̶o̶w̴e̵r̶s̵?̷ Have you utilized them in any practical function?"
The boy wrinkled his nose. "Prack-tee'ee-call?"
"Practiced? Have you made use of your abilities? Show me." He was unsurprised when the child looked away and gave the room a short inspection. "Go ahead. I would be pleased to see your progress." The gaze came back to him, head tipped to the side.
To say it was awkward just staring at this small boy was an understatement. He expected anything, perhaps the child to wander away or become distracted by some activity that had kept his focus in another realm (or timeline) entirely, while he had slept. Once again, he was disappointed with the boy. He shifted his leg to nudge the little thing with the toe of his shoe, but the child scampered back several steps and gave his foot a wary glare.
"It would only benefit you T̵o̶ ̷M̷a̸s̵t̷e̶r̵ abilities which only serve Y̵o̸u̵r̸ ̷ P̵r̸e̶s̵e̸r̵v̴a̶t̸i̷o̴n̷." Another relentless span of baffling staring followed. For the Tower, he could not fathom what train of thought might hold this child's rapt focus. If any thought was going on in the boy's head. There could be moths buzzing around his empty skull for all he knew.
This...
Was the boy now. He had to remind himself of this facet. Sometimes silent, the unabating gaze exhausting on his mental fortitude - as formidable as dueling the child beneath the falling rain, as his prophesized demise. Was this not poetic?
"Am Mono."
"I have B̵e̶e̴n̶ ̶ T̴o̷l̸d̴." Mono by speek, though not in act.
Quite suddenly the child threw his arms up high above his head, the movement so sudden and deliberate the Thin Man actually flinched and flickered. The visions he anticipated forever ago, of facing that boy in the road, feeling his entire being crumple to childish whims - all burned through his haunted thoughts. A cold ripple breezed through his form.
"Sum'much. Y'tol. Mm?"
He nodded. "This I have been notified." In return, the child nodded.
"Am Mono. Em'soft. Unner'sand?" Not this again. "Am soft t'Mono. S... get'n broke. For not soft. Am Mono." The boy stammered on his noises, before he made the, "Aeee...mm, Mono."
"Indeed. T̵h̵a̸t̴ ̴ C̶h̴i̸l̵d̶.̶"
"Best Mono."
"You are S̵o̶m̵e̴t̸h̷i̷n̶g̵."
The boy became animated with his hand gestures, or at the least clenched his fists up at him. "T'broke. Aee um'Mono not. Be'no go. Lost."
Another prolonged and exhausting stare followed. "No more Mono. T'soft. Make soft. And y'keep. But am'soft." And as an afterthought, "Mono." The boy's eyes became large and intense, as if he imparted some grand insight.
He caved and lit his cigarette with a flick of his wrist. "As prior discussed, the boy is N̴o̵t̵ ̶L̵o̴s̴t̸, he is simply confused." And as his afterthought, "and C̶o̷n̸f̵o̵u̸n̷d̴i̶n̶g̵."
The small foot thumped the floor when he stomped. "No. Y'lissen am speek. Mono t'make yu'unn'er. Stand. Not for con'fuss'egg. Aye Mono am soft."
"Uh-huh." The smoke swirled around the rim of his hat. But this was becoming entertaining. The boy pointed to his legs.
"Have break. T'not soft, for break. Am Mono soft. Y'have soft fer'Mono. Sum'much an'tol. You. That tol. But am Mono. T'soft. Und-eer stand?"
"Of course I 'U̶n̸-̵U̷r̶n̵-̴S̶a̵n̸d̶'. You are nothing but a child. And Y̸o̸u̴ ̷ A̶r̴e̷ soft." He lifted a foot, and the boy reversed several steps. The boy did not go far, and soon tumbled to his backside when his heel snagged. The Thin Man tapped said child on his chest. "But... you are M̵͔̌y̴̽ͅ child. Is that not so? Hmm?" Once he set his foot aside, the boy scooted away gawking up at him as was typical. He leaned down and scooped the small thing up and settled him against his chest as he began to click his way out of the room.
"Reluctant as you are to receive assistance when I am permitted, you are nonetheless M̴i̴n̵e̵ ̴." The Thin Man exhaled his smokey sigh tinged with misgivings. "And one day, Y̴o̵u̴ ̸S̵h̷a̶l̴l̷ ̷I̶n̸h̵e̵r̴i̴t̸ ̷this city and all its decay." And all the sorrow, the blight, that poured through the city when the Tower burned against the clouds.
The boy shuddered against his jacket. It was a welcomed sensation after the dream haunt, to know the boy suffered no ill affects from his terrors. The Thin Man fretted the many times he had shaken away the haunting images of a child lying still and unmoving, sometimes mangled. And he was unable to find his boy. The transmission was weak, and he could not reach out to sense if or not he awoken back into a nightmare of an event that transpired, but he could never accept.
"As I E̵x̴i̷s̶t̴ within these winding roads, thus you ̷S̶h̵a̴l̷l̷ ̵S̷t̵a̶y̵ the course of our D̸e̷m̶i̷s̶e̸."
Then, he came upon the tinge of the shared transmission. The boy would either be curled up in a cuvee packed with nesting, or wandering about in his scouts. There was the child. The boy in the hat, wandering through hallways with no direction. Eyes wide and always gawking, as if this was the first time he might encounter the tall thin man who slinked out of static laced television screens. The child always hid himself away, but that was how children survived in the malicious world where all manner of creature and beast sought an easy snack. Careless children never lasted long.
"Dim-eyes."
"Y̸e̶s̵.̷" After the fifth pass through the kitchen space, the Thin Man realized he had no specific destination in mind, and had no plans to stop wandering. He smoothed the child's hair and stroked his back, more so for his own comfort in feeling the little body shiver against him. "Our S̶t̴o̵r̸y̸ does not have a happy ending."
It was a delayed period later when the hushed, "Why?" came.
The Thin Man had no good answer to that. He had The A̴n̶s̵w̷e̷r̴, the convoluted mess of their history and prehistory and predicted history onward. He could not have been the first to have usurped the cycle, if he had managed it at all. He doubted his situation was unique at all, and merely a delayed condition.
"It is and shall always be," came his response. "We are mere M̵i̷r̶a̵g̴e̸s̸ ̵D̸e̴v̴i̷a̵t̸i̸n̸g̵ by the whim of a F̷i̸c̸k̴l̵e̵ stream." He rooted himself in one of the rooms which the child did not typically enter, and for good reason. "Regardless a streams M̵u̶t̷i̸n̴y̷ from its winding path, it always finds a way to its ̸O̷c̸e̴a̵n̵."
It was not uncommon to find the warning speek children scrawled on walls of the Man in the Hat, or the nefarious eyes glimpsed inside the jailhouse bars of static in the television screens. More commonly, they scrawled out the source of pain and suffering beaming across the skies of the Pale City - the Signal Tower, and its highest beacon. Most children knew the message and recognized the source of something... sinister, about the looming edifice. A building with no windows, uncorrupt, a constant backdrop to travelers lost within the labyrinth of the city. A labyrinth to all who could not navigate the channels of transmission, or pass seamlessly through the snowstorm whirling within the glass.
This speek had included the Viewers perched along the edge of the roof, the deflated husks faced the distant skyrise demanding all focus, unconditional adoration. It was reminiscent of his travels with that Girl, hand-in-hand and eyes fixed on the loathsome creatures teetering on dissolution. He knew that he and Her would never befall danger, since the creatures had been disposed of all sense of self-preservation - no concept of care or feeding - lingered in those bodies. It was only receiving the signal, and relinquishing their Flesh to idealistic pleasures crammed into their fragmented minds.
"But until that time. I will be here." The Thin Man turned his attention down to the small child in his arms, who refused to look at anything but a button on his jacket. "However F̸l̸e̴e̷t̵i̴n̴g̷ that time is, nothing will take it away. Not until...." He clutched the child tighter. The source of his destruction and unmaking, only took a deep breath.
Not until the boy relinquished all needs of his warped shadow. But after presented with alternatives, the Thin Man decided it could be no other way. He could not bear the search into glassy eyes for any vibrance, or hold a cold little body that did nothing but sag in all the horrible ways. It would destroy him to stumble alone through city roads and wonder endlessly, why it was he still existed if no trickle of eventual found its way to his inevitable. Nothing would exist of him but some sort of mistake in believing he had been so certain in falsities that served only as comforts, yet nothing more. He would become a sad fragment of a memory, much like the children stripped from the world and thrown into the Towers web - a ghost fluttering through roads, fading but never dissolving entirely. No release and no peace.
"Yes, you A̶r̵e̷ ̴ S̷o̴f̸t̷." He savored the creaking murmur the child made as he wriggled around in his arms. "And I want to keep that for a little bit longer."
One day, the boy would go away and he would never see him again. The Thin Man would not inquire nor pursue, and he would try with all his being to feel nothing. But there were long hours when the creaking of buildings sounded like children calling, or when the wind whispered through shredded glass and he thought the boy was seeking him. One day he would search for the boy making those hushed calls, only to recall that the boy had been departed from him for ages and ages still. But by then his self-appointed isolation would mean that the child found his way out of the halls of that loathsome Tower and had gone elsewhere, perhaps with his own Mono as company. Someday perhaps the answers he sought might provide a form of closure to his endless journey.