"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."
― Cormac McCarthy

Tommy opens his eyes slowly. He doesn't feel the rough leather and plastic of the chair in the waiting room. He doesn't feel the wind whipping through his hair like angry snakes nor can he sense salty water slowly filling up his lungs as gravity drags him into the depths. He cannot smell thousands of plants placed too close together for individual scents to be identifiable nor can he smell the lingering particles of gunpowder floating in the air around him. Since he cannot sense any of that, he expects for a heavy, cold weight to be wrapped around his wrist. He expects to smell blood in the air, slowly drying as his body finally settles. His expectations are not met. He cannot feel even that. For some reason, he is warm. It smells vaguely of disinfectant or bleach but mostly of flowers. The air is still, and there is no water around him. He is lying in a bed, something that most people take for granted.

Tommy looks around for the source of his delusions. Instead, his eyes land on the person right beside him. Dyscardia is sitting up, leaning against the backboard. She holds a book in her hands, slowly flipping the pages in the pale yellow light of the sun filtering through a nearby window that overlooks the bed. Although she is wearing her mask, Tommy can tell she's wearing a white shirt. She's probably wearing pants or shorts vastly different from her uniform, too. She seems comfortable, at ease, even. Tommy doesn't move. He continues staring up at her in a daze.

Dyscardia shifts. Her eyes move to look at him. She smiles at him. Tommy figures he must still be out of it from actually getting sleep. He doesn't startle at her expression. Instead, he finds comfort in it. He likes her smile.

"How did you know?" Tommy whispers to her, referring to how she knew he was awake. He probably should have clarified that, but Dyscardia's smile doesn't fade. She doesn't show an expression of confusion. She must understand what he's talking about.

Dyscardia closes her book. She leaves it in her lap as she shifts her body, slanting herself to face Tommy at a diagonal. She reaches her hand out. Tommy doesn't stop her. She places her hand over his chest. He can feel his heartbeat as she presses down through the fabric of the shirt and his skin. Dyscardia keeps her hand there as she explains, "It was your heartbeat. A person's heartbeat is faster when they are awake compared to when they are asleep. Although I cannot manipulate your heart without activating the conditions of my power, I can sense your heartbeat."

"That's so cool," Tommy mutters, giving her a sleepy smile. This is a new fact for him. He didn't know the extent of Dyscardia's esper abilities. It should alarm him to know that there are more things he could potentially not know about his enemy's powers, but he really does think Dyscardia has a nifty power. He thinks it would be a cool ability to have, though he wouldn't trade his gravity manipulation for anything else.

Dyscardia's face tilts to the side as she registers Tommy's words. Dyscardia begins laughing. She laughs quietly, and it sounds like tiny bells ringing in succession. Tommy smiles at the sound, letting his eyes fall closed. When Dyscardia takes a breath, she says, "Yes, I think it's pretty cool, too."

Tommy brings his hand up from his side. He reaches for Dyscardia's hand. Like he didn't flinch away from her touch, she doesn't jerk her hand away as he takes it. He brings it up from his chest to his face. He presses the back of her fingers to his eyes and forehead. He begins to curl into a ball, whispering, "Are you okay?"

Dyscardia gently pulls her hand out of his grasp. He releases it immediately, letting his eyes flutter open to see what kind of expression she's wearing. He doesn't get to see much before she's cupping his cheek with one hand. She smiles at him, reassurance illuminating her brown eyes like a mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table, waiting for him. "I'm okay. Captain healed me all the way."

Tommy breathes out, unaware that he had been holding that breath inside of him. He slowly uncurls, trying to make himself look a little stronger. He stares up into those eyes, opening his mouth, and saying, "I'm-"

"Stop," Dycardia commends immediately. Although her words leave no room for argument, her tone is soaked in kindness. Her smile slowly slides off her face as she continues speaking in that commanding but kind voice. "What happened wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it is," Tommy begins. He doesn't want to argue with Dyscardia, but he wants her to be angry. She, of all people, cannot think what he did was anything close to okay. They trusted him on that mission. He didn't live up to their trust, and they got hurt because of it. Dyscardia might be okay now, but the attack still must have hurt her. It will probably linger in her dreams for a few more weeks, if not longer. And what if the others had been too late? Would Dyscardia still be willing to forgive him if Ravager had died? If she had been injured beyond saving? "I-"

Dyscardia's hand lowers. Instead of his cheek, her fingertips slowly move across his jawline. Her featherlight touches roam across the scars. Tommy sucks in a tight breath. He sometimes forgets that he has them. The lesson they were meant to teach him is embedded in his soul, but it seems that the scars sometimes evade his thoughts. They don't hurt as much as they used to, after all. Even if they did hurt, he usually has greater aches elsewhere in his body that require more attention. But Dycardia strokes them with a touch far more tender than even Tommy gives his own wounds. It's startingly and unfamiliar, enough to silence him.

"I promise that I don't blame you. No one does," Dyscardia swears, and Tommy wonders why Dyscardia knows that Reverie is the one who gave him these scars. It doesn't matter how she found out; it matters that she remembered. It seems like a useless fact, unnecessary and forgettable. If Tommy often forgets, why should someone like Dyscardia remember? Why should she care? It doesn't make sense, and Tommy hates when things don't make sense to him. He especially hates it when it seems like it makes perfect sense to the people around him.

Tommy turns onto his back, pulling his jaw away from Dyscardia's hands. He stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. He continues moving his eyes until they fall onto something across the room. There is another bed, similar in shape and color to the one Tommy is in now, a few feet from Dyscardia's bed. No one occupies this bed, but there is a book on the nightstand beside it and the comforter is pushed away as if someone got out of the bed but didn't make it. Tommy stares at it for a long moment. His mind slowly threads the clues together until he comes to a realization. He releases a disheartened sigh. "I wonder if Ravager blames me."

Dyscardia grabs Tommy's hands. She slides off the bed, and she drags him along with her. Tommy grumbles something as he forces his legs into action. He balances, and Dyscardia doesn't let go of his hands. He stares down at their intertwined hands. His gaze lingers on the scars adorning his wrists. He supposes he walked into another dangerous situation. He must have come to this room looking for punishment for his actions. He wonders if he got it. He wonders if one of the villains roughed him up in his sleep, and he's too tired to fully process that something in his body isn't reacting accordingly.

Dyscardia twists his hands, drawing his attention away from his senseless notions. He looks up at her face. She looks worried for him. How many times will people look at him like that? Is he truly someone worth worrying about? He's going to ruin their lives. Or he's going to leave them. He knows for a fact that he's going to die on them. They should take their concern and any affection that might be forming and destroy it before it is too late.

"Ravager doesn't blame you," Dyscardia assures him. Tommy hardly believes her. If anyone is going to be upset with him, it has to be Ravager. Serenade already seems plenty pissed at him if his silence was anything to go by. Tommy wonders what Ravager would be like when he's resentful. Tommy has never seen Ravager truly angry, only annoyed or impatient. "He's working on a few things right now. He was never one to stay in bed for long."

Dyscaria drops one of his hands, but she keeps the other one firmly held as she turns around. She walks toward the door, and with Tommy holding on tightly, he follows her. They enter into the hallway. Dyscardia doesn't hesitate, already knowing exactly where she wants to go. Tommy stares at the changing wallpaper as they go down the hallway. At last, Dyscardia turns into a different room. She releases Tommy's hand in order to push open the door. She holds it open for him. Tommy raises an eyebrow as he steps into a large dining room with a kitchen along one side.

"Oh, thank the gods you're awake to make breakfast, Dyscardia!" Sneeg exclaims from the bar. He sets down his communicator, swiveling his seat around to look at the two people entering the room.

"I'm only making breakfast for me and Vendetta," Dyscardia informs him as she steps foot into the kitchen. She starts to pull her pink hair up into a ponytail. She turns the faucet on to wash her hands as Tommy sits down in the seat beside Sneeg, folding his arms on the bar.

"Oh, come on! How is that fair? The new guy shouldn't get special treatment," Sneeg complains, hooking a thumb towards Tommy. "And you know my cooking is shit next to your food. Can't you make me a little something? Please? Just the leftovers?"

Dyscardia ignores Sneeg as she pulls out a few pans from one of the cabinets. Tommy looks away from Dyscardia. He stares at Sneeg for a moment. The civilian is still complaining. When he takes a moment to breathe, Tommy dares to start a conversation with the man. "Which gods were you referring to?"

"Huh?" Sneeg mutters, thrown out of his rhythm by the unexpected question. When he looks at Tommy, a wry smile rises to his face. He turns his chair to give Tommy his full attention, forgetting all about pestering Dyscardia. "Oh, I don't believe in any of the gods. I just say stuff like that sometimes. I guess it's because I've picked it up from Phil. He believes very fervently in the goddess of death. I still don't understand how we could have grown up together and yet ended up so different."

"Were you and Phil childhood friends or some shit?" Tommy asks. Although he knows Phil and Sneeg's personalities, he doesn't know anything of their past. He's curious about how they ended up working with the Syndicate, but he was waiting to naturally bring that particular question up. For now, it would be beneficial to know how the two are connected to one another.

"We were more like brothers. We found each other when we were really young, so it was natural that we became familiar enough with each other to call the other one 'brother.' I'm even considered the uncle of two of Phil's children. They call me uncle is what I mean," Sneeg explains with a cheeky smile on his face.

Tommy frowns. He's pretty sure Phil told him that he had three kids, not two. "Why doesn't the third one consider you their uncle? Are you just a shit uncle and only the third one can see that?"

Sneeg laughs, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. Tommy finds himself smiling at how happy Sneeg looks as he finishes chuckling. "The third one just doesn't consider me his uncle. I'm sure he'll come around eventually. It's going to take some time, and I'm perfectly fine with that."

Tommy nods slowly, though he isn't sure he gets it too much. Sneeg's smile shifts as he stares at Tommy. "Back to the original question, do you believe in any gods?"

Tommy hums. Most people who live in Prime Heights believe in Prime, the goddess of the predominant church. The people of Empires believe in all sorts of gods, some even believing in whole pantheons. It was yet another reason for the constant infighting between gangs. The people of the End Isles have their dragon, and the Nether City believe in some god of war. Sandland and Snowchester don't have any predominant faiths. Tommy knows Croupier believes in a god, but he doesn't know if that religion is spread throughout a place known as the Island of Sin. Reverie believed in XD. Reishi probably did, too, but the other Hunters never proclaimed their faiths to Tommy.

"No, I've never been religious. Fuck the gods," Tommy shrugs. He has never stopped to appraise his faith. If someone was pressuring him, he would end up saying 'Prime' since he knew the most about her, but he didn't worship her. To some extent, he believed in the existence of all the gods in some capacity or another. He wasn't going to get down on his knees for any of them. What have they ever done for him? His life has been a world of hurt since the moment he was born. When he finds happiness, it gets taken from him. If the gods do exist, they are malevolent fuckers that love shitting on Tommy personally.

"I commend you for your independence from the gods. There aren't many nonbelievers like you and me left. Those religious fanatics are gobbling us all up," Sneeg points out. He starts to glare at the empty air as he says, "My brother included."

Dyscardia sets down a plate in front of Tommy. He blinks curiously as he realizes that there are pancakes on the plate. While Tommy is hungry, he isn't sure he should be eating this. He has an emergency food packet in his uniform for occasions such as this. It would be better for his body to eat that. Then, Dyscardia sets down a vial of syrup. Tommy supposes that he can have a cheat meal every once and awhile.

Despite telling him that she wasn't cooking for him, Dyscardia puts a plate of pancakes in front of Sneeg. The man smiles at Dyscardia, not a hint of fear on his face as he makes eye contact with the assassin of the Syndicate. Dyscardia smiles back at him, setting down her own plate on her side of the bar. She looks between them, "What were you talking about?"

"Our shared lack of religion," Sneeg informs her, pointing his fork up in the air as he speaks. He bites the pancakes on his fork, his face melting with happiness as he eats it. Tommy layers the syrup thick on his pancakes. He eats the sugary treat with a smile forming on his face. He doesn't know the last time he had pancakes. It must have been a long time at this point. He thinks Croupier would have the chefs make them for Tommy and Charlie back when they were both under Croupier's care. Tommy wonders if the smile on his face was from the delicious pancakes or the memories.

"I believe in the Mistress of the Hollow Ground," Dyscardia proclaims. Tommy looks up from his pancakes. Although he didn't peg Dyscardia as someone religious, it made sense that she would follow the goddess of death. Tommy was curious why Dyscardia used that particular epithet, though. For a goddess as powerful as death, she had many facets that could be encapsulated by her many epithets. Tommy's personal favorite was Mumza because everyone eventually ended up in death's arms. It was a wholesome way of looking at death, simply returning to a mother's embrace, and Tommy preferred that image to the afterlife his nightmares conjured.

"Why do you believe in her?" Tommy asks.

"Here we go again," Sneeg mutters underneath his breath.

Dyscardia ignores him as she stares at Tommy. It almost feels like she can see through his blindfold to look directly into his blue eyes. Thankfully, she can't, but her stare still unsettles him as she tells him a story. "Years ago, Phil and I were on a mission with this hero called Sonic. The mission went completely awry. We were trapped underground in an abandoned mineshaft that was going to collapse soon. We were going to die within minutes. Phil began praying. I was angry with him, at first, because he was wasting his last moments, but then something happened. I swore I heard the cawing of a raven. The darkness around began to move, growing around us like a pair of hands. From what I can see in the darkness, a woman was looking at us. For one brief second, I looked into her eyes. The next thing I knew, I was in the End Isles with Phil and Sonic. The hero stayed behind when Phil and I left. I can never forget that moment."

"You'll never let anyone else forget it, either," Sneeg points his fork at her again with a faux annoyed expression on his face. Dyscardia rolled his eyes at his antics.

Tommy frowns, asking, "How the fuck did you know it was a fucking goddess? I could have been some unknown esper. I know a few people who can control shadows... and teleport... and do both. It isn't fucking special."

"Well... I've asked myself a similar question. I always come back to the same answer: I just knew. It was a gut feeling... no, it was more like a base instinct. The woman I saw... I knew from looking into her eyes that she possessed unspeakable power. She was far more powerful than any esper could hope to be," Dyscardia explains, setting her fork down to speak with her hands. Her fingers touched the air as if she could pluck the answers from the wind.

Tommy shakes his head, not quite sure he believes the story. He really does think it was just an esper. A goddess wouldn't care about the lives of three people. A goddess of death wouldn't keep someone from dying. But Tommy does trust Dyscardia. In the meantime, he'll assume that the woman in the darkness is the goddess of death. He won't be surprised if he gets evidence to the contrary, but it happened so long ago that he highly doubts he'll ever learn more about that incident.

The door swings open with a creaking noise. Everyone looks toward it. Thermoculus is wearing his uniform, looking at the three people in the room. His eyes glance at Tommy for a moment before he's looking at Dyscardia. Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but Thermoculus speaks before he can, "Phil wanted Vendetta tagging along with me on a reconnaissance mission."

"I hardly think Vendetta is cleared for that," Dyscardia responds.

"If Phil thinks it's for the best..." Sneeg reminds Dyscardia. She frowns as she looks at him. Sneeg shrugs, looking at Tommy instead. "It wouldn't be good to keep you cooped up here. You probably need someone to occupy yourself. But it is ultimately up to you. What do you say? Are you up for it?"

"Yeah," Tommy whispers, knowing that he would regret not accepting the mission later on. He does tend to get restless easily, especially when worries are consuming his thoughts. If he was still with the guild, he would just go to Croupier. He would do something for the villain, pretending it was for his greater purpose or to repay his debt to Croupier. It never was to Tommy, though it might have been exactly that for Croupier.

Tommy stares at Thermoculus' retreating form. Is it worth going on a mission, though?