Mable wipes the tear tracks from her face. "I have to go," she says to no one in particular as she scrambles off of the bed.
"Wait a minute," Simon calls after her as he follows just behind.
Mable stands up and looks to him with eyes that question his reluctance to see her leave as she holds the mask low.
Simon struggles to try and fit everything he needs to say into the words he has at his disposal. "That thing, that voice, the master," he trips all over himself before taking a moment to collect himself. "What are you going to do?"
Mable takes a small bit of time and looks to the mask. "The only thing I can do," she informs him as she settles the mask on top of her head. "I have to confront Master and hope that all my training adds up to a hill of beans."
"But he.." is the start of Simon's protest which is meant to encompass the entirety of the situation, but he drops the bravado entirely when he sees the conviction written all over her face. "What do you need me to do?"
Mable leans forward and kisses him on the lips. "Just wait for me in the waking world," she requests of him as she draws away like a phantom as she slides onto the railing of the balcony before looking back. "Pink really brings out your eyes, you know." She dons the mask proper and hops down and out of sight.
Simon dashes to the edge and looks over just in time to see the dot that is the dream warrior grow smaller and smaller till it is swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. All the while leaving a trail of glittering dust in her wake. He leans back and lets himself drift in the ambient waves of the swirling particles.
He will awake in his bed in an hour or so and will have completely forgotten about this encounter. All he will remember about the incursion is that he really wants to see Mable again and maybe, for some reason, he should wear his favorite, pink shirt. Now, why hadn't he thought to don it before?
But all of that is to occur well into the future and we are more concerned with the present and what is to take place in the immediate future. So, let us focus our attention on the woman who falls like a rock from the sky, yet lands as though she were but a feather. Though it helps her actions are like liquid grace.
She is still surrounded by darkness, but there is a light coming from up ahead, a dark light, and it is strong enough that it just illuminates the path that lays before her. It's a narrow walk that angles upwards and is joined on both sides by sheer drop offs into the endless void that consumes everything.
Mable forgets all of that and simply looks ahead at what lay before her. She starts to move and finds herself accelerating in a way that is more like time jumping forward in sporadic intervals. She guesses, and she guesses right, that Master has grown impatient and is making the confrontation occur as soon as possible.
In this manner she crosses the distance and finds herself entering a deep indentation that is the inverse of a mountain summit. Her eyes instantly fall upon the black, pulsating figure that stands tall and strong while Marie is slumped on the floor upon her knees looking as though she has nothing left to live for. It's jarring to say the least.
"It's about time you showed up," Master speaks from afar, but perfectly audible as he holds himself in a not quite loose stance, yet not strictly tight either. It is as though he is ready for everything and nothing. "Little Marie was starting to get worried. Weren't you sweetie."
The subjected woman suddenly perks up and looks to the only man, or whatever he is, and that's coming from the narrator. "Yes Master," is the word that Mable hears in a sickening baby voice, but it was not the word spoken, that would be 'daddy' as she redirects her focus to the intruder. "I was weewy worried 'bout you." She even pouts for good measure.
The wearer of the mask raises it to the top of her head. "What did you do to her?!" the only other woman seethes as she tightens up on her fists.
Master leans forward. "What do you think I did?" he redirects as his body continues to crackle.
"You sick-" Mable blurts and takes a step forward.
"Oh, sweet, sweet May Bell," Master addresses the anger and the atmosphere drops by degrees. "I absolutely love, and I don't use that word lightly, but I absolutely love how an open ended question brings out the very worst in you humans." He is silent. "Just to ensure that this confrontation is full of genuine feeling, I will put your mind at ease." More silence. "I do not seek physical gratification. It absolutely holds no interest for me, never has. But what delights me more than I'm certain such activity ever could is complete objectification." Further quiet. "Do you think it delights me to be called daddy? Absolutely not. In fact, it sends shivers down whatever I have instead of a spine. But, knowing that it bothers her to no end really is the relish on my burger."
Mable quickly recovers from the strange comparison. "I expected better from you," she shifts tactics and takes another step forward.
"Aw, you actually expected something of me," Master gushes and laces his hands on his face as though embarrassed before dropping them. "Tell me, in what way have I let you down? After all, I can't very well improve if I don't understand the problem. Now can I?"
Mable takes a breath. "I just never expected you to stoop so low that you would hold a hostage against me," she berates him as she advances just a bit more.
Master laughs. "Nothing so base," he admonishes her in return and shakes his head. "Hostage implies that I want something from you while you possess a strength that can rival mine. Oh no, little May Bell, she is not a hostage, she is a prize." He steps closer to her and away from the other woman. "I know you've been looking for me and that you want revenge, well here I am, and she…" He points absently to the girl in question. "Is for the winner." He continues his approach. "If you win, which is highly unlikely, even impossible, but let's say you win…" He laughs. "Let's just say you do, then you get to have all the pretty princess, girly time you want."
"And if you win?" Mable challenges and steps up to him.
Master grins wide. "When I win, oh how I shall enjoy peeling her psyche as one might an onion," he salivates over the details and looks quite pleased with himself. "It will be glorious."
"There's one little problem with your plan," Mable informs him and manifests a sectional staff of glowing material. "You're not going to win."
Master grins. "Have I mentioned how amused I am by your addition of glitter to the smoke?" he asks of her as he leans in. "It really makes it seem more friendly. Now then, shall we?"
The exchange begins with terrible ferocity as Mable swings about her awkward, three piece weapon. In most hands it would prove a detriment, but she is so well versed in its application that it dances about in her hands as much as she does the floor. Her fluid grace is on complete display as she moves in and out of her foe's striking distance.
Frustration builds with each action as Master does nothing to subvert or deflect or even engage in any way. He simply moves as though he knows exactly what her next five moves will be while staying so close that only continuous motion keeps him from being struck at any time. He is, for all intents and purposes, untouchable.
"Take me seriously, DAMNIT!" Mable screams as she times her breaths to the last outburst.
"But I so want you to feel that you are doing well," Master explains his lack of action while not breathing hard at all. "Were I to step it up, even a little, well, there would be no fight."
The dance continues with neither party landing a blow or making any kind of headway.
"There now, I've had my fun," Master at last says something, indicating that this exercise is not having a toll on his person at all. "So let us now get serious, shall we."
All at once his arms become a pair of long blades which he then uses to attack with such great power that Mable is forced to retreat even as she fights as though her life depends on it, and it very much might. It is all she can do just to keep a buffer between them and she knows it is only possible because her opponent is toying with her.
All the same, she keeps on after him with all the intensity she can muster which is being fueled by her frustration. She simply cannot understand how her exceptional ability has not even landed a single blow against her adversary. She does all she can to keep a level head and institute new actions to catch him off guard.
"I think this has gone on long enough," Master speaks up and suddenly his arms become a blur before dropping the blades and hitting her full force in the belly with two hammers.
Mable flies through the air and impacts a far wall of rock. The impact expels the breath from her lungs and loosens her grip which causes the sectional staff to clatter to the ground.
Master laughs. "How long have you been training, honing your skills, only to lose so spectacularly? And do you know why?" he chides her as he draws upon her aching body and changes his hands back. "Because you have allowed yourself to be molly-coddled the entire time." He swipes his arm and takes hold of the mask still propped on her head and before she has the chance to object he crushes it in his hand. "There now, isn't that better."
Mable forgets herself and hastens to her feet as she holds out her fingers only for the sparkling dust to sprinkle through them. "You didn't have to do that," she barely utters as she drops her head.
"Beg your pardon," Master entreats of her as he leans forward.
"You didn't have to do that!" Mable shouts as she takes the opportunity to palm heel strike him in the chin.
It feels more than satisfying to actually land a blow, but she knows better than to leave it at that. Instead, she uses the momentum of the attack to spin herself about, snatch up her discarded weapon and spiral outward as she swings it over and over hitting her opponent more times than she can even count.
Each and every strike siphons power away from her adversary and bestows it upon her which further fuels her fury. She exceeds even her own expectations when it comes to the power she exerts with every swipe that smashes her opponent who must continually retreat. But the energy, excessive as it is, runs out and leaves its recipient breathless.
Mable collapses to a knee and uses her weapon to prop her person as she breathes heavily. "Why," she finally manages as she continues to huff. "Why, did you have, to take, her away, from me?"
Master stands up. "Who do you refer to?" he sneers with a lung full of breath.
"You know who," Mable seethes with the infinitesimal energy she can muster as she fights to retain her posture. "She was my friend, my only friend, and you took her from me."
Master casts an eye upon her. "You do know she wasn't real, right?" he chides her as he twists his head.
"She was real to me!" Mable defends her infatuation and grips her hands tightly. "She was real enough, to be everything to me."
"This is just sad," Master points out and starts walking circles around her. "And this cannot be how our arc ends."
Mable raises her head to further protest when the spoken words register with her. "I didn't find you at all, did I?"
"What?" Master betrays himself with an outburst of surprise and takes to the backfoot.
"I didn't find you at all, did I?" Mable repeats the question she asked with more authority and takes a step closer to her friend. "You came to me, when you thought I presented enough of a challenge to entertain you." The second to last word holds a significance only understood after it is spoken. "Entertainment, that's all this is to you. A way to while down the hours of eternity that you have left to you, isn't it?"
Master is silent. "And what if it is," he responds somewhat defensively and crosses his arms. "What then?!" He ignites his power which surrounds his body. "What if all of this is at my disposal? What if I am the bird in the cage who has flown the coop only to find they're trapped in a larger cage, and for every cage I break free of there is always one more outside of it?" He leans forward. "What if I decided that the only way to stay sane in such a world of locks and metal is to be the bird that eats my wings so I have no real choice in the matter?" He plops down on the step. "What if I…" He drops his head in his hands and nothing else can be understood.
Mable sits down beside him and puts an arm around his shoulder. "It's okay," she soothes him and pats his back.
All at once she feels something protrude and take the place of her hand. It is slimy and unpleasant to touch.
Master stands abruptly up and starts laughing as he twists his body, takes hold of the growth and rips it from his body. "You did it little May Bell, I knew you could," he pronounces and returns to a more acceptable position. "That little bit of me has been bothering me for oh so long. And I've spent so many nights trying to exorcise it. But I never could quite bring it to the surface, not like you just did. And now that it is gone." He tosses the thing away. "I am finally free of another cage. Oh sure, there'll be another, but I will break free of that one too." He focuses on his adversary. "In fact, you have done me such a service that I feel compelled to do the same. So, here." He waves a hand over Marie's head. "Your friend is now broken of my spell and free to do with as you please."
"Where, where am I," the objectified woman speaks up and shakes her head. "Mable is that you?"
"There now, we both got what we want," Master lets on and turns about. "So, if you will excuse me, I have a lock to see about."
"Wait," Mable calls out and takes hold of his leg. "Please wait."
Master turns his head about. "What do you want?" he inquires with an air of indifference and looks quite annoyed. "You got back the girl, what more is there to a story?"
Mable looks up. "Please, I just want her back, that's all," she pleads yet further and keeps a strong grip.
Master sighs, but understands without further explanation. "You know she isn't real, right?" he questions her grip on sanity and crosses his arms. "She was and always has been a part of me, that is all."
"But what if she could be more than that?" Mable reasons and starts to cry. "What if she could go on living again?"
"Not a chance," Master refuses and turns back around.
"Please," Mable starts in anew and keeps her hold. "I've done too much, to let it end like this."
Master turns fully around.
"It took me forever, but I finally found all of the pieces scattered about the dreamscape," Mable lays bare her activities and takes a swallow. "They live to create nightmares, part of your leftover programming I imagine. I have, I had all the pieces, but she still won't wake up. If you would only-"
"What is going on?" Marie cuts through absentmindedly as she tries to ascertain her location.
"If I would what?" Master carries on unfazed by the interruption and looking quite unamused. "You have thoroughly misjudged our relationship, in that we have none. Now, if you'll excuse me, I-"
"May Bell," a voice permeates the air as a face forms on the back of the being of uninhibited power.
"Oh no you don't!" Master spouts as he focuses his power to drown out the visage and voice. "The downside of being an amalgamation, you don't always have control. But I swear-" He goes inert.
Mable reaches out to the indentation that performs like liquid metal. "Liza, Liza is that you?" she asks of the image as she reaches out her hands.
"Yes, May Bell, it's me," the face affirms the assumption and smiles. "I have waited so long for this."