Chapter 18: Prayer of Mr. Rager.

  “The Japanese say you have three faces. The first face, you show to the world. The second face, you show to your close friends, and your family. The third face, you never show anyone. It is the truest reflection of who you are.”

  August 28th, 1990.

  The clock spoke.

  2 PM, it read.

  Link II and Duckworth still fought.

  Throwing each other like stuffed animals back and forth.

  Both damaging the walls around his home.

  Sounds of thumping and slams heard only from the fight.

  Thump.

  Slam.

  …

  Till they both stopped.

  Taking a breather and lying on the floor.

  Exhausted like the fabric of the floor below.

  Their panting breaths, shaky and heavy like a boxer.

  Just as Link II's vision blurred.

  His eyes hazed between feelings of nausea.

  His torso falling to the floor like a tower collapsing.

  A small thud heard in the dead air.

  Like the sound of a gunshot.

  While Duckworth stood him back up.

  Trying to bring him back to light.

  Hands rubbing and tapping Link II's shoulders.

  The air filling with tension that felt like war.

  Yet, Link II gasped.

  He woke up in an empty void again.

  Sitting on a chair.

  Instantly bolting out of the chair and towards nothingness.

  Right before…

  A hand stopped him.

  Saying.

  “Kid, calm down, it's just us.”

  The lights flickered on.

  Revealing thousands, billions of himself.

  All smiling towards him, but not that of the insane.

  More of like a Gatsby smile.

  Something that was promised, yet came out of nothing.

  As the one besides him spoke.

  “Hey kid, hope you're having fun with your abilities.”

  They all hugged him like uncles and aunts.

  While he froze, confused by the sudden attention.

  Trying to speak, but muffled by the smiles and love by his alternate selves.

  Asking.

  “W-Why am I here?”

  The air went silent like death.

  Everyone's smiles and grins faded like war.

  And everybody glanced at each other like birds to food.

  Their eyes saying everything to Link II.

  Fear.

  Uncomfortableness.

  Hesitation.

  All like a family reunion.

  Suddenly, one of them spoke.

  “Yeah, you're right, kid.

  We do need to talk about something.

  Your suicidal habits.

  That's what we're worried about.”

  Link II stood, surprised by how concerned about him they seemed to be.

  Asking hesitantly.

  “Why? Why does it matter?

  Some of you lost your lives because of addictions to-”

  Before multiple people interrupted, saying.

  “Hey! Shut your bitch ass up kid, you don't know what I've been through!

  You're just a kid who saw a few drops of blood-”

  Parties interrupting parties like a local debate.

  Yelling.

  Screaming.

  Crying about trauma comparisons like candy.

  Leading to somebody yelling.

  “Enough! Yall are bitch ass motherfuckers for acting like you are better than him!”

  The conversation went silent.

  Like a cable cut from its box.

  As the man continued.

  “Now, may I speak to Link II about why he's really here?”

  Everyone was eyeing to their left and right, silently agreeing.

  As the man asked Link II.

  “Kid, would you want to take a walk as we talk?”

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  His voice somber yet meekly, like a motherly love.

  The man's hand reached out towards Link II with a smile, eyes confident and gentle.

  While Link II hesitated, scanning the version of himself that cared.

  Eventually taking his hand.

  Nodding, ready to see what was held for him.

  They began walking in the void.

  Hand in hand like childish bonding.

  Yet, as they walked, Link II felt almost happy.

  Silently knowing he would find out something tragic.

  But smiling like the day never ended.

  While back in the real world, Duckworth couldn't get Link II to wake up.

  Constantly yelling into his ear and shaking his body desperately.

  “WAKE UP!”

  Giving up after a few moments.

  Worried about his state if he was in the void or not.

  Eventually hearing sirens in the front yard.

  Stomping.

  Guns cocked back.

  Helicopters reigning above.

  War had begun.

  And Duckworth, without thinking, took possession of Link II's body again.

  Quickly rushing towards the closest weapon he could find.

  His fists.

  Hesitantly opening the door to see…

  Police, swat, thousands of people aiming weapons at him like a bear.

  One yelling into a megaphone.

  “Put your hands up, Link Duckworth The II!

  We are here to arrest you for the crimes of homicide, arson, and hundreds more!”

  And yet, all Duckworth could say to the thousands of gunmen…

  “Welcome to hell, fuckers.”

  Meanwhile, Link II walked with the version of himself for a few minutes.

  Asking hesitantly.

  “W-What did you want to talk about?”

  The man stopped.

  His eyes glistened, turning watery.

  As he slowly crouched down, looking into Link II's innocent eyes.

  Their danger behind it, but true happiness within the moment.

  Whispering to him.

  “Kid… on that day when you destroyed that monitor that showed all of us dying…

  You didn't just let us die in peace, you took our pain.”

  Link II's smile faded.

  The innocence gone into adultery.

  Asking, stuttering.

  “W-What does t-that mean?

  Does that mean why I'm so emotional-”

  Immediately interrupted by the man.

  “Yeah. You did.

  You took some of the worst traumas of us combined.

  It might seem good, but you just carried unnecessary trauma so we could die in peace.

  Even some that… shouldn't belong to you.”

  While Link II asked.

  “What does that mean?”

  With a sigh, the man walked Link II towards something.

  Saying as they walked.

  “Watch and learn, kid.”

  As they walked, the faint sound of bullets filled the air.

  Immediately, Link II turned away, trying to run away.

  But stopped by the man, yelling to him.

  “L-Let me go! I-I don't want to witness it-”

  Stopped by the man, speaking.

  “Kid. You have to. Otherwise you won't grow from the experience and move on.

  You really want to chicken out and use your abilities, go ahead.

  Be my guest and let your abilities do everything for you instead of being a man and facing it head on.

  Can't you just do it for us?

  You didn't revive us, all we ask is you remember what our lives meant.”

  Eventually, Link II turned, finally witnessing a true battlefield.

  Soldiers running out to die.

  Medical aid hiding in tiny corners of trenches.

  All while one of them lied on the field.

  His body mutilated like a pig.

  Blood spilling out like a fountain.

  His gasps underneath the bullet rain barely audible.

  “...please… somebody… anybody answer me… we never wanted to fight… this could've-”

  Being stopped by a single explosion.

  A grenade thrown by the other side.

  And ended the vision.

  Link II could only stare uncomfortably, remembering the other version’s life.

  His dreams.

  Hopes of being a hero.

  Yet killed with a ball of fire like those before him.

  Their face plastered onto the void.

  Then the man spoke.

  “C’mon kid, there's only a few more.”

  And yet they walked.

  Painfully.

  In Grief filled minds

  Each step feeling like knives to their hearts.

  While Link II whimpered uncontrollably, hating each moment he watched it.

  Holding back tears.

  Tears that felt justified to cry yet incorrect to let go.

  Finally arriving at an alleyway.

  The alleyway most sex workers know.

  While back in reality, Duckworth tore through crowds of swat, police and military like beavers to wood.

  Ripping heads off, using telekinesis to pause their movements, blowing up people, intertwined into multiple movements.

  Additionally gutting people's organs like pi?ata's.

  Stealing the many weapons from officers and using it against them.

  Throwing grenades like it was Christmas.

  Explosions filling the air.

  People's lives thrown away like paper.

  All while Duckworth laughed, yelling in the air.

  “I FEEL LIKE PABLO!”

  Just as Link II and the man arrived at the alleyway.

  Knowing where most sex workers die and exchange in this sinful place.

  As they peered, they saw two silhouettes.

  One being a man aiming a gun at what seemed like someone young.

  Too young to be here.

  The rhythmic muffled sounds of what sounded like a flower being broken from its innocence.

  Sounds of differences between victims.

  Yet moments later, they heard a groan.

  Then a thump.

  The shadow's arms reached towards his own silhouette, straightening themself as it walked away.

  His own footsteps echoing in the disguise of someone buying groceries.

  Rather than somebody destroying innocence like a bug.

  While the other shadow remained on the cold, cursed concrete floor.

  Curled into himself between the mix of the letter C and S.

  Making a question mark.

  Seeing the mask covered man walk away into the distance.

  Link II's hands shook, the same feeling of nausea mutated into something more violent.

  A violent nausea.

  Finally seeing the boy on the ground.

  Into the eyes of himself, witnessing something worse than the nightmare back in Compton.

  Finally breaking down into sobs, his muddy voice asking.

  “Why? Why must I have to witness myself get taken advantage of? Why can't you just tell me?”

  The man's tears fell as he spoke.

  “Because… you chose to take our pain.

  You made the choice to watch the pain so we could be free.

  We can't say anything but thanks to you… Maybe Man.

  But all we can say is…

  We're sorry that you had to witness it, but now we must go into the afterlife…

  To live the rest we deserve…

  Thank you; Maybe Man.

  Maybe man is something that will live in eons above…”

  Soon enough, the man faded away.

  And so did the memory.

  Leaving only Link II to sob alone like those he took the pain away from.

  Soon enough, coming back to reality.

  Finding himself back in his mortal body.

  Guts held in his right hand, a gun in the other.

  The streets filled with broken helicopters, corpses, and flipped over cars.

  All intertwined like a balloon of chaos.

  Link II's expression filled with horror.

  Turning to his back was Duckworth, leaning against the wall like he enjoyed the experience.

  Asking Link II.

  “Where the fuck were you, ya pussy?

  You missed out on the flames of violence.”

  As Link II instantly grabbed Duckworth by the throat, yelling into his face in anger.

  “Why did you kill them all?! Why couldn't you just wait-”

  Interrupted by Duckworth again.

  “Because I didn't want to risk dying, okay?!

  If I die, then you die! That's how this works.

  And I can't help it if my life is at risk because some boy decided to pass out like a little bitch-”

  Suddenly being slammed into the concrete, making a huge dent in the driveway.

  As Link II spoke again.

  “I spent time in hell, Duckworth.

  You wanna know where I've been?

  I've watched other versions of me lose their innocence, their life at war; all like a fucking gallery of trauma!

  And you wanna complain that I cry like a little bitch?!

  Well; sorry I'm not professional enough for you to enjoy murder as a hobby while I watch other versions of me get violated!”

  Slamming him into the nearby car.

  Bring him back with telekinesis in milliseconds and do it again.

  All in a cycle of anger.

  As Duckworth yelled abruptly.

  “Fine! You win! Im sorry I called you that-”

  Before cut out with faster paced slamming, Link II's form glowing brighter and brighter….

  Finally ending with a battle cry and an explosion of his own abilities.

  Blasting Duckworth back into the house hard.

  His body groaned as he got up.

  Leaning on his arm right as Link II grabbed him by the throat again.

  Whispering as Duckworth choked.

  “Tell me one good god damn reason why I shouldn't kill you right now.”

  Tightening his grip every second that Duckworth stayed respondless.

  While Duckworth slowly moved his arm towards the CD player.

  Closing his eyes as he focused.

  Picking something so unexpected…

  A song from an album known by many but not yet made.

  Yet, the song Mr Rager by Kid Cudi played from the CD player.

  Its distorted drums mixing with the space-like feel of the song, sounding exactly like Link II's given up spirit.

  Yet to him, it sounded like peace.

  Letting go of Duckworth and sitting near the CD player.

  Sitting in silence and listening to it like a child to a teacher.

  Hearing the story of Mr Rager and his journey of a fantasy that wants to end so they could go to heaven.

  Beaten down to the ground, the repeated mantra of asking where Mr Rager went.

  While Link II listened as tears fell from his eyes.

  No emotions besides his frozen stoic face while the song elevated into desperate mantras of asking one question.

  “Can we tag along on the journey, Mr Rager?”

  But for Link II, he asked.

  “Why am I called the Maybe Man?

  Why can't I be called the ‘Rager’?

  What does that title even mean?”