Chapter 9: ALL DAY/Wesley's Theory.

  “It's me, your uncle Sam. Here to offer you anything you want, a car, 40 acres, a mule, a piano, a guitar? You'll have it once you become famous.”

  The Mindscape.

  Link II's cries filled the air.

  His body shivered in the void, grieving over losing Willard, somebody who was like a brother to him.

  Finally giving him the explanation he needed about the void.

  His mindscape.

  But also an area connected to the suffering of children that he carried.

  Something that no one else had.

  But as he sat in grief for Willard, he remembered the smile.

  The smile that Link II couldn’t possibly see himself use.

  In his anger, he found the courage to stand up and fight for himself.

  Wiping his nose, he got up, feeling numb to anything but grief.

  Ready to face his demons despite being filled with resentment towards the mirror.

  For the homies that died.

  For the brothers and sisters who were lost in pride.

  For Willard.

  Walking confidently forwards, despite not knowing where to go or how to face himself in the mind.

  All his mindset sat on was to avenge Willard.

  His hands curving into fists.

  Walking towards nothing, he found the mirror yet again, this time running towards it.

  His expression shifted into irritation and hatred towards the one thing that took away his only friend.

  The mirror of the damned.

  Seeing it in the distance, its presence almost mocking him and what he stood for.

  Finally arriving in front of it, the mirror's height opposing him menacingly.

  Like a human confronting the figure of time, Link II stood against what was a reflection of his own mind.

  Hands ready to punch this mirror like hell.

  His gaze filled with hatred more immense than gangsters ready to kill rival gangs.

  Holding back from grief, his hand shaking like a bomb about to go off.

  Link II finally snapped.

  “I fucking hate you!

  YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, YOU DUMB, CLEAR MIRROR!

  He yelled as his fists hit the glass and its frame in a rhythmic pattern.

  Barely fazing the mirror.

  After a few moments of hitting it, Link II got exhausted and stopped punching it for a moment.

  Realizing it did nothing to the mirror.

  Falling back onto his knees, hands rising to cover his face as he broke down again.

  Sobbing into his hands, whispering angrily only to himself.

  “Why… Why can't I have somebody stand by me?

  I just want to be a kid… and yet I can't have anything thanks to this stupid mirror!”

  While the mirror began to slightly crack around the edges, the souls popped up again, laughing at him.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Pointing fingers at him as they spoke.

  “Look at the Mexican boy trying to fight!”

  “Look at the little brawler trying to win!”

  “Look at him fail to avenge his gay friend who loves him!”

  That last line making Link II confused, asking.

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘gay’?”

  Their laughing faces turned to regular stoicism, whispering between them.

  “...shit, he doesn't get it, what should we say instead?

  ‘That he deserves it'?

  Nah, too much on the nose…”

  Before Link II stated.

  “Tell me what gay means you… you plastic mirror!”

  Thereafter, one of them spoke.

  “Gay means… he likes taking dick, kid.”

  During this, the other voices stopped.

  Their breaths now heavy, turning towards the main ghost who spoke.

  As that one voice spoke again.

  “You heard me.

  He.

  Takes.

  Dick.

  What do you think of that, you complaining brat?”

  From that, Link II cracked.

  Hearing the souls make fun of him, especially Willard, hurt him more than anybody else ever could.

  Nobody should've referred to somebody caring as gay.

  So, taking a breath, slowly raising his arm up, aiming at the mirror.

  Closing his eyes while focusing on the mirror.

  Thinking of every hurtful moment they said to him.

  Reminiscing on the blood, sweat, and tears he shed to survive.

  Finally yelling to the mirror.

  “PK FLASH!”

  And right before them a big green flash of light appeared.

  A large blast of telekinesis tying it in.

  Blasting away the mirror as it fell onto itself.

  Breaking from the fall.

  The shattering glass echoing in the void.

  As the void suddenly lit up, showing the void as some sort of secret base.

  Now showing the clear white floor below him.

  In the distance, a monitor was seen.

  Showcasing multiple screens that he couldn’t see from afar.

  Immediately rushing towards it, realizing this could be the moment where he finds out what is really contained within his mind.

  Footsteps echoing into silence.

  Finally arriving in front of it, seeing multiple tiny screens showcasing alternate versions of himself.

  The difference in clothing, body shapes, facial expression made each one unique.

  While seeing all of them bleeding out on floors.

  Versions of him bleeding out on the battlefield.

  Some bleeding out from self-destructive cuts.

  But none of them happy and living.

  Witnessing all this death and loss, he felt like his pain was invalid to whatever these other versions of himself went through.

  Glancing to his left, he saw a screen that showcased one specific version of himself.

  A dead body of an alternate Link II.

  Absolutely horrified at what he was looking at, the brutal wounds on his body, the lifeless stare into the camera.

  Like the carcass knew of him watching.

  While other versions were tortured or dying.

  Some stood on presidential stands.

  Some stood on death cults.

  But none, and none, ever had a good ending.

  Glancing towards the top corners of each screen, he found each number that represented the versions of himself.

  Looking at the long numbered list made him nauseous of how many times these other versions of him suffered hell incarnate.

  Sensing each versions feelings of regret and sorrow mixed with understanding

  Knowing he couldn't let them suffer any longer than they should've with their lives.

  Lifting his arm into the air, pointing at the cameras.

  Closing his eyes and turning his head away from the screens.

  Beginning to take on the burdens of the possible millions and thousands of alternate versions of himself.

  A beam of light reached out towards the monitor.

  It's crystal clear white mixed with the smell of angelic doves.

  Purity reaching out towards the damned.

  As he began, his mind experienced hell.

  Seeing flashes of blood, pain, and betrayal fly past his mind.

  Soon, he was blasted backwards.

  The monitor exploded from the overwhelming energy transmitted between universes.

  The smell of gunpowder filling the air.

  While Link II got up, his body wasn't fazed by the blast.

  But yet when he got up, he glanced at the broken monitors one last time before passing out.

  Seeing the dead bodies of each variant of them, but faintly seeing smiling faces on their deathbed.

  Understanding why they smiled in death.

  Not from release.

  But from the rest of their pain, fading out in peace.

  As he fell, he saw a brief reflection of himself on the floor.

  His eyes rolled back, his glowing a shade of purple.

  Ears and eyelids leaking blood.

  His nose was bleeding rapidly like a faucet.

  Yet, he could only giggle and smile.

  Not regretting one bit of self sacrifice…

  September 16th, 1988. [12 PM]

  A gasp filled the air.

  Link II got up from the mattress he slept at, stretching his arms and yawning like nothing happened.

  Walking through the hallway.

  Footsteps echoing in the silence.

  Ignorant of the mirror of the damned spying on him through the bathroom mirror.

  Seeing him cook bacon and eggs with a smile.

  Noticing how something changed within him.

  There was no anger, no fear, no pain.

  Just pure childlike joy in cooking food at five years old.

  While behind the souls of the damned…

  A clock stood.

  Reading the date of August 28th, 1994.

  The souls glanced back at what stood behind that containment box.

  Shivering at the sound of the clock ticking.

  Back in the real world, around 1 PM.

  Link II sat on the dining table.

  Filling out college level homework with ease, his right hand a blur of pencil lead and air friction.

  His eyes glowing as he worked on his assignments.

  But with a smile, he continued the work with ease.

  While his left hand calmly programmed a cyber mask.

  Titled “V1: Elven Ears removed”

  The design covered his entire face, but the illusion blends in naturally.

  His left hand put on the mask, it had this weird fizzle effect before covering up his elven ears with illusions of human ones.

  His face gripped the mask tightly at first.

  Hesitant on putting something he didn't test on.

  But once it was on, there was no coming back.

  He wanted a fresh start.

  And so it began… for now.