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Rainfall is rare in Destiny City in the winter time. There have been a few light showers between the occasional snow but it’s never been enough to be significant. In some places, it’s just enough for a thin layer of ice to cover the ground and make it a little slippery, but ultimately it’s not enough to worry about. In an inconspicuous place in town, you step into an ice filled hole and it shatters. The hole itself seems maybe three feet wide and if you’ve ever seen the hole before you know it’s only a few inches deep at most. Except, when the ice shatters, you fall, plummeting as if into a lake of frozen water. It’s pitch black beneath the ground and only pale blue lights shimmer above you. The darkness around you is never ending and you can’t make out the details of anything except the shrinking hole above you. Maybe you remember how to swim and pull yourself out, maybe you black out and feel someone else pulling you out--either way, your frozen, soaking body is pulled from the puddle. The chill is immense, but if you look at the hole after being pulled out, all you can see is the ground below. There’s no sign that what you saw was real--except for the water soaking you.
Though Samir wasn't a fan of being out in the cold, it didn't mean he could escape it. He had errands to run--powered or otherwise. Tonight, he had parked his car off to the side and done a bit of shopping down the little strip of stores. He had returned to his car several times to deposit the small trinkets, never once finding issue with the patches of ice on the ground.
He had but one stop left--a necessity, an order for the shop. It was quick business, and he'd been on his phone texting as he walked back to his car when his foot hit what had been solid ground all times he'd passed across it before--only now, there was a dreadful crack.
He had been here so often that he knew the potholes in the road, but this one had filled with ice--solid, thick and sturdy. And here he was, falling through it like it was a tunnel straight to the center of the earth. His phone tumbled out of his hand, just out of reach as he fell through the ice--through the chilly, biting water below.
Frantically, he tried to swim--but he sank, like a weight, towards the black bottom below. He wasn't strong enough, not in this form.
Lopezite, though, may have fared better.
He powered up, either out of habit or necessity. His clothes were drenched immediately and seemed to weigh him down, but at some point he stopped sinking. He had more strength, more resilience to the cold, but something unnatural dragged him downwards--and for what?
His lungs were full of air but the chill alone nearly forced him to dry and draw a breath. He knew it would be the end of him, so he forced the urge away.
When Lopezite looked up he could just barely make out a pale blue light above him. Underwater, there was little sense of up and down, and he had to force his eyes on the light to make sure he knew where to go. It felt like little hands dragging him down despite all efforts to swim.
But he couldn't give up. The seconds turned into a minute, maybe more. Under the ice it felt like an eternity. Everything was cold, except for the sudden heat that burned in his aching lungs. A strength surged through him--the power to break away from whatever spell he was under, whatever evil kept him bound and sinking. He kicked in the water, pushing off with a speed befitting a Captain of the Negaverse.
The hole above him seemed smaller than he remembered, and even when he approached, it didn't seem to grow. It almost seemed as though the ice was freezing over, but he had a sword and he'd cut his way out if he had to.
His hand thrust through the hole, gripping solid land.
Blackness ate away at the corners of his vision as the cold shut down his body, as his every fiber screamed for breath. He worked his second hand through the hole and dug his fingers into the asphalt, fighting and wriggling to break free.
He didn't even realize when he'd taken his first breath; the cold air burned his lungs as much as the lack of any air.
He continued sucking in great gulps of air, barely registering that he was breathing again. Water clung to his body and he pulled himself, soaking wet. The weight alone tried to drag him down into the water but he wouldn't let it.
Lavendulan would have thrived down below, probably. Immune to the cold, immune to the human limitations of the body. Perhaps she might have found something fascinating down below--but then, perhaps she would have gotten lost or found something so interesting that she hadn't wanted to come back up.
He coughed up water but couldn't remember breathing any in. The lights blurred a bit; the streets hadn't been empty when he'd been shopping earlier, but now he couldn't make out the shape of anyone. He couldn't hear anyone--not even the Christmas music the square had been playing earlier. Before, it had been loud and jarring. Now, it was but a whisper in the distance.
Lopezite groaned; he curled on his side and reached to rub at his face, trying to ground himself. He recognized quickly that he needed to get home, needed to get out of these clothes. He was soaked, through and through, and lying here on the icy ground was only going to ensure he got himself sick, or worse.
His phone was lit up with a new message and he found himself groaning as he forced himself up.
His glove was soaked; he tore it off and glanced into the hole that had devoured him. There was nothing there--only ice. Solid ice.
Lopezite's hand was cold and stiff, but he still summoned his weapon to his hand. With all his strength, he stabbed the blade as deep as he could into the pothole filled with ice. He could see the blackness of asphalt beneath the crystal clear ice, but it didn't stop him from testing it anyway. White cracks splintered through the ice and it broke into chips. He hit it, again and again, until the sword was digging into the road beneath.
It was just a pothole, filled with ice. No water, no mysterious lake below, no hands to drag him beneath.
He'd have thought he'd lost his mind had he not been dripping water still. Water, he noted, that felt like it was freezing on his skin.
His car would be fine without him for the night. A bit of recklessness probably wouldn't hurt him. He dismissed his sword and reached for his phone with his ungloved hand before he picked up the discarded accessory as well. Teleporting may not have been the wisest idea in his state but it didn't stop him. He doubted anyone would track him, but it may have been the cold talking.
He didn't care.
Lopezite teleported to the outskirts of the Junkyard, at the furthest end away from his house, and powered down.
He knew this walk. He could have made it in his sleep.
Which was good, because he could feel it calling to him in every step he took.
