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koco-coko · 1 year

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Tales of the Fractured - Chapter Two.

Oneshot collection of stuff based on/in The Reckoners trilogy by Brandon Sanderson.

Nothing Out of the Ordinary

The day-to-day workings of a Reckoners cell. ______

“Did you hear?” Greg said, sucking on a piece of candy. He rolled it around in his mouth, letting the sugary taste stick to his teeth.

“What? Did someone die? Shocker,” The younger girl said, huffing as she placed a crate on top of another. Why wasn’t Gregory helping her? Despite his age, he was much older than her and had much larger muscles. “Now can you actually do some work? I’ve been doing all the heavy-lifting all day,” The teenager whined, “I’m the researcher, dude. I should keep my brains trained, not my arms.” She said, her eyes squinting at him with a very judging gaze.

Greg ignored her order completely. “Greeggg.” She moaned.

“Tia sent the message out last night. Remember Lila?” He said, smirking as he dismissed her sore arms. “Yep, sure. How could I not? You haven’t cleaned up her beer bottles yet.”

“Apparently she died yesterday. A transformative Epic turned into a little kid and stabbed her in the chest.”

The girl froze. That was… Sudden. “Well, it makes sense she died to a little kid. Why didn’t you bring this up earlier?” She asked, leaning against the boxes.

Gregory shrugged, “I’m not sure. There wasn’t any better time to say it.”

She thought that was true, but a grimace churned around in her stomach. “Um, alright then. Is Prof gonna send us someone new or am I stuck with you?” She asked, chuckling sheepishly.

Gregory’s voice softened as he watched the younger Reckoner’s arms shake when she tried to open one of the crates, getting onto her tiptoes to snatch a granola bar from the pile that had been loaded off a minecart. “Not sure. I haven’t gotten word of anything yet. We should be okay for the next few days, though. I haven’t seen any trouble popping up lately,” He said, scratching his chin lazily. “So, uh, Jack? Maybe you can finish one of those gadgets in the meantime.”

Jackilyn shrugged. He rubbed the haphazardly braided dreadlocks. She was just happy he didn’t call her ‘Spots.’ She knew it was in a fond way, but it was grating. So what if she had patches of white on her skin?

There was silence from that moment on. Lila… Jack remembered her well. She never understood how the hell that lady could’ve been a Reckoner. She had a temper, she was never really likable, and she took every opportunity to nab a cartoon of Budweiser. Maybe it was just slim pickings out in… Wherever they were. Jackilyn had moved around cells so many times she didn’t really care about the ‘states’ anymore. It was as if bad luck would just follow her wherever she went.

Gosh, it all sucked. She wanted to be a superhero by joining the Reckoners, but all she got was bookkeeper duty and a taste for bombs. Jack was hoping she’d get to do the amazing feats that the ones in Newcago or Ildithia could do, but instead she was stuck with manual labor and a lazy old man who did the bare minimum. Is there any justice?

“Spots,” Greg called out, crunching on the last bit of sour candy before swallowing it, “I can take the rest of it. You go do your teenage girl thing,” He chuckled as he finally stood up and easily lifted a box into his bulky arms. His T-Shirt barely fit around him and gripped his skin tightly. Jackilyn was noticeably a few feet shorter than him.

“Thanks, you old creep,” She teased despite silently fuming at the nickname. Jack reached around the corner and grabbed a satchel with two metal hooks. The fancy pleather had long since been worn out, but it wasn’t broken yet. She’d use it until the bottom had disintegrated.

Alone, Jackilyn strolled through a musky hallway carved from tensors. Ever since she was little, the inventions made out of Epic’s always made her perk up. The idea of being able to use someone else’s powers, to just simply put on a glove and suddenly you were a god– How was that not incredible?!

Eventually, she found a lonely staircase and yawned as she made her way up. The building she entered was broken and decrypted, but not the worst place she stayed. The windows were broken and covered with Scotch Tape and the brick building was leaning in on itself. Only slightly concerning, considering this was one of those old historic towns from the 1800’s. It was funny. People used to hang those they considered supernatural. Now it was the opposite. Ironic, Jackilyn thought.

The wind was the only sound outside and embers of dying candles were the only thing that kept it from being eerily quiet. Well, that and Ester’s snoring while he was spread over the table. In the corner was her safe spot– A workbench covered with tools and failed inventions. Ester was always mocking her for being so insistent that one day those grenades would work, but she hoped it was out of love. “Hey, Ester,” She whispered as she ruffled his hair. He groaned and swatted her hand away, then went back to his nap. It was their daily greeting at this point. She giggled, “Night, Ester.”

To keep the floorboards from creaking too loudly and waking Ester (God forbid), Jackie tip-toed to her workbench and sat down. She was extremely careful as she pulled the chair out, but lost all cautiousness when she saw her blueprints for a new bomb. Her eyes lit up and she licked her lips. She could barely sit still as she grabbed metal casings and screwdrivers.

It wasn’t anything big, but people really underestimated the power of a glitter bomb. One blow, and you’d be caught in pretty pink smoke and glitter for days. It’d get stuck on your skin and get in your mouth and eyes, too! Silent but deadly. Even with all of Ester’s teasing, it was his idea to start off more simple. He was like a strange uncle. It was nice to have him around. It was better than Greg’s constant laziness. He was almost as bad as Lila. Well, now he was the bad one. Lila was gone.

Damn. No more beer bottles would be left on the floor, no more rambling about God knows what, no more enthusiasm whenever they spotted vintage dolls at abandoned thrift stops… She was going to miss that, but what could you do? At least one of Lila’s dolls was still somewhere by the kitchen. Soon enough, Jack realized she couldn’t stay focused on her inventions. Surprisingly. Usually asking her to go do something at the workbench would occupy her for at least three or four hours, but now it didn’t feel the same. Death happened, she thought, and you’ve gotta move on. No point crying when tears don’t solve nothing.

"Ester?" Jackie called as she rummaged through one of her drawers. "Ester, wake up."

Ester merely grumbled in his sleep. Jackie grabbed a piece of scrap metal and threw it at his head. “Ester! Ester!” She cried like a small child. The hunk of trash bounced off his head, causing him to groan and finally lift his head. Jackie smiled and fixed the cuff of her overalls when it nagged at her socks. They were stained with patches of dirt and motor oil.

“Ugh, you are the worst, brat,” He jabbed, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly. He stretched over the wooden chair like a cat. Jackily smirked when she was called a brat. “I was having a good nap, but you just had to ruin it, huh?” He complained, yawning once again. His act was very convincing and it grew by the day.

The quiet grew, and then Ester snorted. “Wow. You ran out of retorts today? Usually you’ve got something else.”

Jackie rolled her eyes, sucking in on her teeth with a fond smile, “I can only handle so much of you and Gregory. I need a brain break.”

“Fair. Greg is something else.”

Ester sighed as he stood up and fixed the ruffled brunette hair. He whispered something to himself, but simply moved on with his day and carefully pulled out a bowl of fine china from one of the cabinets. Then, he went to a refrigerator with ice on every shelf and grabbed milk and a box of brand cereal that he had accidentally left inside. ‘Accidentally,’ but Jackilyn knew he left it there because it was more convenient for him.

“So,” He said as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, “Ya hear the news on Lila?” He chewed.

Jackie sighed. She rubbed some of the fingerprints off the lenses on her goggles. She could only guess it was Lila in one of her beer-filled stupors. “Yeah. Epic hid as a little kid to get her.”

“Serves her right,” Ester exclaimed, not a glint of remorse in his eyes as he scrolled through his mobile. His cheek was filled like a chipmunk’s, only with cereal instead of acorns. “Damn bitch stole my hoodie. My hoodie!”

Jackie’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Lila wasn’t that bad, was she? She wasn’t the best, but that didn’t mean she should’ve been dismissed so much. Was she really that sucky as a person? She did her job well, at the very least. “Maybe Prof will give it back next time he visits?” She told him while she poked around the shell of an old grenade with a scalpel to cut any wires before it could detonate.

She was a pro at stuff like this, so she had no qualms about defusing a (likely inactive, for the record) bomb indoors. She’d been doing it since Ester found her on the streets three years ago, messing with old syringes and selling them to whatever addict gave her the money. She was at age fourteen, and even now she prided herself on being an entrepreneur.

“I’ll message him about that. Still, he’s probably just gonna say I should get over it or something,” He said while he poked around the now pink milk.

It was shocking how childish Ester was, even when he was almost forty. His T-Shirt was that of an old rock band and his jeans were torn. Wrinkles were growing around his jaw, but he didn’t seem to mind. He looked better than most others around town. Gregory was like him. Except he had so many muscles that any shirt they bought barely fit on the poor guy and his beard had already turned gray.

Speaking of the devil, Greg popped his knuckles as he emerged from the dark depths. “Did anyone miss me?”

“No,” Jackie responded as she casually cut a red wire. Now the grenade was truly defunct and she could start building her masterpiece. Excitedly, she slid the goggles off her eyes and let them dangle around her neck.

Gregory feigned a dramatic sigh, “Well, maybe next time.”

Ester spun his spoon through his fingers, completely bored. “Why don’t you just live down in that shaft? It’d be more efficient for us and you're there most of the day anyway. I’ll have Jack bring you food.”

“I need sunlight every once in a while, my boy,” Greg laughed heartily as he strode lightly to the kitchen, then glanced out the board up window. A few nails were sticking out. Jack knew they’d probably force her to do it at some point, even if it was Ester’s fault they weren’t in properly. “Or whatever’s left of it. The moon bounces off the sun’s rays, so it still counts,” He laughed.

“Spots? Are you not joining us for dinner?” He asked, gently.

“Not hungry. I’ve got a project to finish, anyways.”

Gregory hummed to himself, but eventually let go of the subject.

Jackilyn worked into the late hours of the night. Glitter and sparkles coated her entire workbench and a part of her denim jacket, but she was too enthralled by her handiwork to grasp the state she was in. All her brain closed in on was finishing the distraction device, but she was occasionally pulled back to reality when Ester snored so loudly she could hear it clear as day. He was on the second floor.

After several test trials, she finally decided that 3:14 A.M. was a healthy time to end her workday. The bomb wasn’t anywhere near completion, but now she knew where all the parts needed to go so it wouldn’t make a measly puff of smoke. Prototypes were just as important as the results. She yawned and delicately put her goggles away, then cracked her back over the flimsy wooden chair. Oh, how her spine would hate her in a few years. Oh, well. Reckoner’s didn’t have long lifespans, when she thought about it long enough.

Poor Lila. Even the Reckoners, champions of order, mocked her. Maybe Jackie could save some of her creepy doll collection before Ester decided to burn it for the fireplace they installed upstairs. Well, that she installed upstairs. Most of the renovations to the old house were her doing.

Jackilyn, debating whether or not to just retire at her workbench for the night, drowsily stood up and threw her denim jacket onto her chair. Underneath her overalls was one of Ester’s black, old band T-Shirts, but it barely fit her scrawny build and covered her entire torso. She threw the pair of bib straps down as well, since she didn’t actually need them to keep her pants up. It simply looked better. The teen grabbed the single candle lit for her and began to trudge upstairs to the pile of sleeping bags.

Knock knock knock.

Jackie froze in place. Someone was here. Knocking. At three in the morning. She was in a horror movie now. Nobody upstairs would’ve heard it over Ester’s snoring, and it was probably that same noise which alerted someone that life was here. Jack cursed to herself and turned to face the door.

“Excuse me?” A voice cried out, muffled by the oakwood. “I don’t mean any harm…” It mumbled.

Jackilyn’s heartbeat became rapid thumps. What was she supposed to do? Should she grab Ester and Greg? Ester would simply ignore it and Greg was too soft to do anything about his verdict. What would answering the door do? What if it was an Epic? What if she was about to die like Lila did, tricked by an Epic?

She did what she thought was best. She placed the candle onto the bottom stair and nabbed the shotgun that lay next to the base of the railing. Gregory always kept it loaded in case of an emergency. She didn’t even have to cock it. Her brain told her to stay calm and not shake, but her nerves were on fire. This was going to be the death of her, she knew it.

“Who’s there?!” She shouted, unapologetic.

The voice turned into a whimper, “I just wanted to ask something. Pretty please?”

‘Ask,” Jackie attempted her most intimidating voice, but there was a reason they made her work behind the scenes. Ester was much better at making people fear him.

“Do you have any food? My brother is sick and I was hoping you’d have some soup or… I dunno, something.”

Jack licked her lips. It could easily be a trick. People were unapologetic nowadays and she knew what a con-artist was like, from personal experience as one. Still, it would’ve been cruel to leave that poor girl alone in the cold night. She didn’t want to be as cold and cynical as Ester. It wasn’t on her bucket list. Sighing, knowing she’d get one hell of a scolding, Jackie opened the door by an inch. Just enough to let the chilly, red tainted night of Calamity into her home. “Any flavor?”

“Anything I can warm up,” The kid bounced on her toes with a large smile. She was just some short Asian girl with jet black hair who might’ve been a little younger than Jackilyn herself.

Jack slammed the door and retrieved the nearest can of tomato soup, then quickly shoved it into the girl’s arms. The shotgun was still hidden behind the door.

The poor girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh, thank you, miss!” She exclaimed in a quiet whisper. Jackilyn’s nose scrunched up when she looked so happy. “I’d been knocking on every door tonight and you’re the first person to answer. Thanks a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just go back home before Hypno spots you. He hates when people are out late at night, ya know,” Jackilyn didn’t dare poke her head out any farther in fear of being spotted by one of the Epic’s mindless, zombie-like drones. All those poor victims were just walking security cameras who had no thoughts of their own. They couldn’t even speak or move without Hypno’s doing. They walked in the same patterns everyday in the middle of the streets and didn’t have any hearing to speak of, so experts could avoid their already thin line of sight with enough practice. Still, while a normal person would be fine out in the daylight, it was better for the Reckoners not to be spotted at all.

“Epics hate people no matter what time of day. It wouldn’t change anything,” She giggled shyly, sorrow invading her joyful eyes.

Jackilyn swallowed, “Just go. Please.” She didn’t wait for the petite girl to leave her doorstep and slammed the door, turning every single lock. When she heard light footsteps get out of earshot, she finally allowed herself to breathe. Her chest became light and the adrenaline slowly began to die down. That’s when she realized the snoring had stopped.

“What in the hell was that?” Ester accused, standing right next to the candle. “I told you to stop feeding those strays. Feed them once, and they’ll come back for seconds and bring all of their friends with them,” Ester spoke in a mean, sharp tone as he yanked the shotgun from her arms and roughly put it down into its normal spot and checked to make sure the door was properly sealed. Dust made a perfect outline of the slightly tilted way it stood. Gregory was a few steps up, but didn’t comment. “I swear, do we need to set a bedtime for you?” He grumbled to himself, then stomped back upstairs to sulk by himself.

Jackie sighed a quiet ‘Sorry,’ before shamefully dragging her feet upstairs. Gregory waited for her to reach his level before going back up.

Jackilyn threw herself on top of a purple sleeping bag, making the floor creak beneath her. This old Victorian home was so close to falling apart… Why did they even stay here? The teen didn’t even attempt to put herself into the bag. She’d been all too familiar with the concept of overheating in that stuffy foil and having a nightmare that she was burning because of it.

Gregory didn’t mind the hellish bags, though, and quietly tucked himself back in for the night. Ester was still grumbling in his special little corner, where he slept far away from the rest of the group. It was kind of funny, considering he looked like a tiny caterpillar when he was in a green sleeping bag and always balled himself up at night. Ironic, too, since he disturbed them more than vice-versa.

“You did the right thing, Spots,” Gregory calmly whispered, his eyes softly closed. Jackilyn rubbed one of her melatonin free patches on her arm shyly. While Ester was a weird uncle, Gregory always tried being a weird dad. There were many failures, but this wasn’t one of them. Jackie comfortably laid down on her sleeping bag, laying on her side to face Greg. He was as peaceful as he always was. She saw a necklace peek out of the bag that shimmered in the moonlight that combined with Calamity’s bloody glare. It took the form of a curvy, stylized S.

“You’ve got a good heart. Keep it. Lord knows the world needs it.”

#story #the reckoners #ao3 writer #writing #ao3 fic #oneshot #brandon sanderson #self indulgent #short story #kinda slice of lifey tbh #weird uncle and dad but its fine #they arent creepy #i love skrunkle kids #theyre so real

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