Found in Hidden Darkness

Chaos.

The Destroyer

The cold blast of air sends me reeling back. The sensitivity created by the visions of burning eyes, still create a pain in my skull. Trying to rebuild the walls around my mind is like trying to put together a piece of paper that has already been destroyed in the rain. No matter how hard I end up pulling my stitched jacked around me, the blasts of frigid air knocks me back. 

But the only thing pulling forward is the same twisted feeling that has burdened me before this. My fists clench in my pockets. The cuff of my jacket is being whipped around by the sudden blasts of snow-filled wind. The only thing keeping me going. I almost want to laugh at realities own twisted humor. But I know that with my steady breath fogging up the frozen lenses, I will never even try.

My shivers propel the brisk walk. The unspent opportunity to laugh drags my mind away from the red eyes and instead to what could be wrong with the code. I feel a slight shift in temperature, the wind starts to slow as the trees around me thicken. I'm almost there. The images of the corrupted code from the AU we were in prior, flash into my mind.

I try not to acknowledge that my hands aren't shaking from the cold, but instead from the fear. The fear of the endless possibilities of what could be wrong. Could the code be corrupted. But how? I feel my gaze trail down to the ground. And after a moment of reveling in possibilities a twisted idea spirals into my consciousness.

Who would corrupt the code?

I stop dead in my tracks, inspecting the ground with a cautious, horror filled movement. Under my worn shoes the snow looks...out of focus. I take my glasses off with a shaking hand, quickly rid them of dirt and dried specks of residue.

But as soon as put them back, my breath hitches. I retaliate from the blow of new information, and run forward at the same time. The piercing feeling of shock fills me the same way the Red Eyes did. A cacophony of questions enter my mind, and a severe series of tremors to my body. I don't want to see this. I didn't want to see this.

No matter how hard I wish it all weren't true, it doesn't go away. It will never go away.

The snow, the trees...they are all made of numbers. Lines of code, not even lines, just single numbers run the surface of the scene. Numbers are missing, numbers were added. All wrong in sequence, and yet all correct in content.

I step into the patchwork of numbers, opening the metaphorical backdoor into the universe. And it looks more like hell than I could have ever predicted. It looks as if someone shoved all the pieces of a puzzle together without even trying to make the picture.

They just wanted to make all of them fit. There is no rhyme or reason for anything. The constant flux of numbers causes my eyes to ache behind my glasses. The type of disorganization and distortion that the code is in now, causes my self to panic.

I dig through the code, trying to find the source of all of this chaos. But the further in I go, the worse it seems to get. There must be a reason. I move my hands in a frantic motion, opening and closing pieces that are vital to the fabric of the universe.

I don't notice that my breath is rapidly increasing until I notice a pattern. I hold the cold breath in and just stand still. Hands hovering above the numbers, only able to watch the nature of the numbers.

It's collapsing in on itself.

It grows, stretches, builds. Then collapses, corrodes, caves in on itself. It's as if the code has become its own being. Programmed, to just create too much to where it destroys more than half of what it has created. But how? Anger builds inside of me. Who would be able to change the nature of the code, to make it unstable?

Chaotic?