[Geist] Rebirth

[sotongeistooc.livejournal.com]

It waited in the dark, clinging to life, refusing to die. The memory of its near-destruction echoed in its mind, full of the pain, fear and confusion it had felt as fists battered against its stolen features, claws ripped and tore its flesh, and cold steel drove deep into its gut. It remembered terrible cuts and slices of the autopsy, the painstaking exsanguinations and clinical incisions in an air thick with surgical spirit. And it remembered being engulfed by flames, cremated to ash in the ferocious heat of a pyre, flesh roasting and bone crumbing to cinder in a relentless inferno.

It wasn’t quite sure how, or even why, death had failed to come; the parchments that detailed the ritual hadn’t mentioned immortality. Perhaps the essence of those whose lives it had stolen still rippled through its consciousness, a dark magic that bubbled away deep in the wood of the mask, to sustaining it in this world. Or perhaps some other magic – yes, it believed in that word now – had taken root and transformed it into something more than human. It didn’t know or care.

Time seemed beyond comprehension or consciousness in its dark sanctuary, days draining into weeks as easily as sand tumbling through an hourglass, and soon it lost track of how long it lay dormant within the confines of its hollow facade. Then, without warning, a catalyst came, and time became essential once more.

It was no more than a speck, a microscopic flake of desiccated skin so small that a human eye would barely notice its gentle fall. It was tiny, almost insignificant. It was all that was needed. The moment the parcel of discarded DNA fell onto the mask’s prongs, the furious process of creation began.

The flame of life ignited, it burned with terrible vigour. Sparks of blue and green flickered as the cell was dissolved, devoured and replicated, starting a chain reaction of mitotic division. Cells began to spawn and multiply, cascading outward in a bloody soup from which first tissue, then organs, would form. In the dark hiding place a new husk began to grow, weaving itself to the designs of the genetic blueprint it had been gifted. At speeds beyond the designs of Mother Nature, sinew and muscle knitted together, bone ossified and synapses fired. The heart began to beat, an unfailing pump that drove the blood that coursed through fresh veins; the brain became a silent hive of endless biochemical charge; the lungs began to fill with protective mucus in anticipation of their first, juddering breath.

Its new form almost complete, it began the essential process of retrograde destruction. The perfect teeth, only just ruptured from a gum line sheath, gnashed together, forced by the mandible in a vice of grinding pressure until the wear was correct. The unblemished flesh ruptured and burst in key locations, healing instantly to leave faded scars in replicated mockery of another’s past misadventures. Wrinkles, frown lines and creases formed as the new skin manipulated itself back from perfection, withering to simulate age and temperament.

At last, the metamorphosis triumphant in every detail, it was ready.

The eyes flicked open and it tried to scream, voice terrible and rasping as virgin vocal cords strained to produce a human sound. The new body twisted and contorted into hideous shapes, muscles contracting and relaxing as it sought to gain control of this new form, fingers forming claws that scratched deep into the carpet. Freeing itself from the dark womb of its hiding place, it wrenched the mask from its face and gasped for air, struggling for breath as the fluid drained from its lungs and left it coughing and heaving on the floor.

In time, as untried membranes stopped watering and nerves began to function, the throttled screams abated. It collapsed once more, curling itself a painful bliss of newborn life as salt-streaked tears washed the film from its eyes and the last of the amniotic fluid evacuated its form. Silently it lay, juddering, quivering in the cold as its skin rippled and turned to gooseflesh then subsided into a sea of perfect serenity. Then it rose, confused and disoriented, as uncertain of its limbs as a newborn foal, to take stock of its environment.

It stood in a room of contrasts: opulent in its décor yet neat and ordered; luxurious in its trappings, yet arranged with the utmost efficiency in mind; perfumed with the scent of life, yet tainted by cold smell of death. It had emerged, it could now see, from underneath a bed, beyond which lay a dressing table with a Venetian mirror. Silently, warily, it edged across the room, watching its reflection as it approached and studying each aspect intently.

The new body was female, tall in stature and lean in flesh and muscle, tussled auburn hair hanging past a slender neck in perfect counterpoint to her milk-white skin. She was attractive, not beautiful, older than the last two, younger than her original form. The face was cold and harsh, dominated by penetrating olive eyes set against thin lips and defined cheekbones. Sitting at the dresser, she brushed the auburn strands aside and felt the contours of her new visage, flexing muscles to examine how she portrayed each emotion, turning her head in all directions to cast shadows on her features, investigating each freckle and imperfection in turn.

The body would do until a better one could be found. Nodding with half-satisfaction, she wiped the last of the vitreous slime from her being and hunted for some clothes.

Once dressed, she set about learning of the life she would take. Normally, the mask transferred over all the knowledge and memories needed to adopt a new persona utterly; with only dead flakes from a mattress, all it had done was replicate appearance. She scrambled through the room’s drawers, looking at photos, picking up receipts and cards, memorising names, numbers and achievements. Gradually, a picture formed of…

Steps outside.

Without hesitation, she ceased her hunt and slipped behind the door. The steps grew closer. She prepared herself, either to act or take action as the situation demanded.

The true owner of the face walked in, unaware of the danger that lurked in her own sanctuary. For a moment the duplicate watched in silence, studying the mannerisms it would need to clone, aping the original’s movements as she tried to gauge her character. Then she closed the door turned the key.

The stolen features twisted into a malicious grin, and she waited for her double to turn around.