The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra

THE ICE CREAM PARLOR was just the way we’d left it—except for the empty bowl of banana split. Mr. Simon must have cleaned it up and put it away, and the thought of that made Philip groan.

“He’s going to cream me for that,” he muttered. “I can tell.”

I raised a brow. “Cream?”

“Yes, cream. As in annihilate.” He sighed. “Let’s just go.”

Unfortunately for Philip, the empty ice cream bowl was the first thing Mr. Simon brought up when we entered the Archives.

“Philip,” he said. “Did you leave that bowl on the table? If you wanted a snack, at least learn to clean up for yourself.”

Philip climbed down the last step. “Sorry, Mr. Simon, but the bowl can wait. There’s something important we need to discuss.”

I followed him as he walked toward the Archives’ study.

“I think we know how to defeat the Girl Beyond Bounds,” Philip added. “May we see Quinn’s records again?”

Mr. Simon’s eyes widened. “Really? What do you have in mind?” He unlocked the drawer where my records were kept.

“Well, what if Quinn just writes the Girl off of her records?” Philip suggested. “It might work.”

The Archivist looked perplexed. “You mean fix it? My boy, I’ve tried that so many times, and all of my efforts were futile.”

I stepped forward. “But I have the Author’s powers. I might be able to fix it.”

Mr. Simon’s hand hovered over the drawer’s knob. “Right,” he said, nodding. “You have a point there.”

My records came bursting out of the drawer, coughing out words and scattering them all over the floor. Its cover was mostly black now, with spots of pink tainting its dark hue.

“Well,” Mr. Simon said, turning to me. “Best of luck.”

I swallowed, approaching the notebook on the floor. Gingerly, I reached a hand to flip it open, gawking at the scribbled mess on the pages. I couldn’t read anything. Lines of text overlapped each other, almost blacking out the entire spread.

Philip peered toward the page. “Yikes.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I sputtered.

“It’s supposed to be pretty straightforward,” Mr. Simon said. “You just cross out anything unusual.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and handed me a pen—one of those fancy-looking ones. “But I struggled to find the difference between your records and hers. The Girl is writing over yours, and it appears to be getting worse.”

“So the Girl Beyond Bounds is eclipsing Quinn’s existence?” Philip added.

Mr. Simon nodded grimly. “Precisely.”

The contents of my records overwhelmed me. My head spun as I tried to concentrate on the text, finding myself amidst the impostor. Some of the words had fallen out of the pages, crawling on the floor and up my wrists like spiders. I quickly grew frustrated; I couldn’t make out anything.

I thought that I’d try out what Mr. Simon said, to just cross out anything that looked unusual. The thing was, everything looked unusual, and perhaps, that was the point.

I hovered the pen over a random line.

And crossed it out.

Then, the agony began.

At first, I developed a small headache, which seemed like nothing but a minor inconvenience. However, as I crossed out more lines, the throbbing sensations began to intensify. It spread to the rest of my head, burning at the back of my eyes. My chest tightened; I couldn’t breathe and I was nauseated. I was on my knees, clutching my temples as I cried out in pain.

“Quinn,” Philip called, kneeling beside me. “What’s wrong?”

“I, I—”

It had dawned on me that parts of my existence were on those overlapping lines of text.

And I was erasing them. That was why I suddenly felt horrible.

I wondered what effect this had on Cassandra. Did she feel my pain? Was she getting the sense that I was hindering her plans?

Mr. Simon’s presence loomed over me. “This method may not work,” I heard him say. “The Girl Beyond Bounds has marked herself too well on Quinn’s records. It’s a hostage; the more Quinn crosses out, the more her existence is erased.”

Philip sighed. “Then we have to find another way. Quinn needs her powers. We have to stop this Girl from leeching from her once and for all. Perhaps—”

“It may be the only way,” I said softly.

Philip’s voice shook. “What?”

Slowly, I lifted myself on my elbows. My records were thick, pages stacking up on top of each other. With the pain I felt, there was no way I could go through everything.

I was running out of time

I reached for the pocket of my jeans and pulled out Julio’s lighter, the only piece I had left of him. From there, I recalled Deus Ex Machina’s performance at the art exhibit, where a painting of a girl with a lighter caught Harumi’s attention.

Last Hope by Anonymous

“It’s—It’s too late, Philip,” I stammered. “Cassandra’s about to take me—all of me. Mr. Simon said it himself. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Philip’s expression darkened. “What are you saying?”

And with a heavy heart, I said, “I have to destroy my records, Philip. It is where Cassandra chose to mark herself, to ground her existence. And I’m getting rid of it.”

Worry lines stretched across Philip’s forehead, and his lip quivered as he tried to respond to my absurd suggestion. However, before he could say anything, Mr. Simon stepped forward.

“Careful now,” he said. “You do realize that you’ll be wiping off your existence, as well, don’t you?”

“I know that,” I whispered. “But in a matter of time, I won’t be in this world anymore, and Cassandra will have all of the Author’s powers to herself. I—I found out what her plans are. She wants to destroy the Archives, erasing the Author’s Metropolis forever…”

The warning had come at the quietest time. There were no alarms, no bells, no sirens. It was just the soft, raspy sound of my voice lingering in the darkness.

“But… Quinn…” Philip croaked. “What about you? You have the Author’s powers. What will happen?”

Mr. Simon sighed. “As hard this is for me to say, Quinn is not the Author herself. As long as this Metropolis stands, a part of the Author will always remain, and it will eventually find a new person to manifest in. If her sacrifice is what gets rid of this monster, I’m afraid we may not have a choice.”

The color flushed out of Philip’s face. “Can’t you at least try fixing Quinn’s records again?” he begged. “You’ve fixed a lot of people, so why can’t you fix her?”

“My boy, you already know that I’ve tried so many times—”

“Then try again. Try harder—”

“This isn’t just corruption, Philip,” Mr. Simon snapped. “This is something far beyond my knowledge. And if the Girl Beyond Bounds takes Quinn for herself, it’s over. It could be any time now…”

Philip looked at Mr. Simon as if he were looking for the right response on his face. He couldn’t find it.

“Okay,” he murmured.

Mr. Simon then turned to me as sadness washed over his face.

“Please,” he told me. “Do what you must…”

I nodded and let out a sigh. I was prepared to tell you, dear reader, that this was how my story would end. I had finally taken Cassandra down by fulfilling the hardest decision I’d ever made.

I remembered that Julio’s lighter was in my pocket, so I took it out and held it with my feeble fingers. Julio wasn’t with me anymore, but I was comforted by the fact that a small part of him would be the instrument used to save the Metropolis.

I struck the metal wheel, and a small flame emerged. As I bought it close to my records, however, something went wrong.

I lay on the floor, waiting for my consciousness to sink into the void, but that moment never came. Instead, I found myself slowly opening my eyes.

I was at The MacGuffin. And Julio was with me.

▶︎▶︎

People shared meals and conversations all around me. Waiters whisked around the room serving unlimited rice and soup. Ms. Louise entertained the long queue of customers.

I had wanted this so badly. I had tried so hard to go back to that very day at The MacGuffin, and now that it was in front of me, it all felt too good to be true.

Julio sat across from me in his pressed polo shirt. His eyes were wide, staring at me like I had something stuck to my face.

“Quinn,” he said. “You did it.”

It was surreal to hear his voice again. I was awestruck, overwhelmed by all those warm, fuzzy feelings his presence gave me.

Still, I was in disbelief. Just a minute ago, I was at the Archives, ready to destroy my records for good. Had I done something to see him again? Were my powers finally working?

“Did… what?” I asked him.

“Oh my God,” Julio exclaimed, reaching forward and clasping my hands. “I knew you’d pull through. I knew it! I remember everything: the fake phone call, Paradox Road, Cassandra…”

I watched as his expression darkened. I wanted so badly to forget about that trip to Paradox Road. If I had the power to erase that from my memories, I would do so in a heartbeat. But then, I looked up to see Julio smiling at me, lines forming in the corner of his eyes.

“Quinn,” he said, his voice resonating amidst the crowd. “You didn’t just rewind time. You… you saved my life…”

And that was where it began to sink in. I still had my doubts, but they slowly faded away.

I had brought Julio back.

But I knew that my troubles weren’t over. I had only rewound time; we hadn’t defeated Cassandra yet.

As I was lost in thought, the smell of newly cooked food wafted to my nostrils. Takahiro carried a tray to our table and placed our food down in front of us. He froze when he looked at Julio, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“I… I can’t believe it,” he stuttered. “Julio? Is that you?”

Julio smiled. “Hello, Takahiro.”

Takahiro swallowed. “H—How? I—I thought you were—”

“I know, I know.”

“So—you really died? You’re—not a ghost, are you? Or a zombie?”

Julio chuckled. “Of course not.”

Gingerly, Takahiro lifted a finger and poked Julio’s cheek.

“Please don’t do that,” Julio muttered.

Takahiro gasped. “I—It is you. Wow, I guess the Author must have brought you back. Just like with Rachael. You’re so lucky.”

“I do feel lucky. I have a lot to be thankful for.”

Then, Julio gave me a quick, faint smile. If I had looked away even just for a while, I would have missed it.

“I sure bet you do,” Takahiro said. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I can’t. Have a few more orders to run.”

And then came the complimentary bowls of soup. Takahiro set them next to our food before rushing off to the next customer.

Julio grabbed a spoon and fork. “Wow, this looks great.”

He proceeded to eat like it was the best meal of his life. Meanwhile, I just sat there, watching him as my appetite disappeared. I hated myself for ruining the mood. I was happy that Julio was back; perhaps I would finally be able to tell him the things I wasn’t able to.

Like how I truly felt about him.

But I wasn’t at ease knowing that Cassandra was still out there somewhere. I was afraid of losing him again.

“Quinn, we need to celebrate,” Julio then said, looking up from his food like an excited child. “Your powers are something else. Let’s go somewhere after this. Perhaps some dessert by the seaside? I know a stall there that sells these huge crepes. Plus, it’ll be nice to be away from the noise for a while.”

I couldn’t believe that Julio was thinking about dessert—freaking crepes! We still had a Metropolis to save.

“That sounds nice,” I said morosely, not caring about the crepes. “But, Julio, Cassandra’s still at large. We must do something before—”

“Just for the night,” he replied. “Besides, you’ve just done something incredible for me. I’m glad to be given a second chance to set things right. I owe you, Quinn. I don’t know how to thank you.”

I sighed. It was hard to resist the look in his deep, dark eyes.

“Just don’t die on me again,” I whispered. “Please, not again.”

Slowly, Julio nodded. “All right. I’ll take better care of myself.”

We ate our food in silence. Not only was I processing the fact that Julio was with me again, but I was gathering the courage to tell him how I felt about him. However, I couldn’t time it right. Even the tiniest burst of chatter from the table next to us would disrupt me.

Then, Julio asked me about Paradox Road, and as I tried to piece all the events in my head, they would subsequently fall apart.

“Let’s talk about that next time,” I said. “We’re celebrating tonight, remember? Besides, it was all too painful for me; I don’t think I’m ready to tell you yet.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Let’s just hang out tonight.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

It was from that moment on that the weight finally lifted from my shoulders. Julio and I played songs on the radio on the way to the seaside, blasting the best tunes lyrical dissonance could offer. Of course, he sang along to them, his voice cracking as he belted the high notes. Then, I would laugh, and the initial shyness would go away. I began to sing along with him, and my voice sounded terrible.

But I didn’t care.

The world around us felt distant. Still, I could feel it move quickly, chasing all sorts of abstract things: money, ambition, power. Cassandra herself could be plotting her next big move to reclaim the Metropolis, but the chaotic colors of her creations were nowhere in sight. The city was once again gray and monotonous, glowing faintly in the smog and haze. I had never felt so relieved to see it again.

Julio parked his car by the seaside, the gentle breeze blowing against my face. The sea stretched on ahead of us, shimmering in the faint glow of the moonlight. Aside from a few people, we were pretty much alone— away from the noise, as Julio had stated.

What if that was my chance? What if I told him then and there that I liked him?

I grew conscious of myself. My heart began to pound as I climbed out of Julio’s car, making me freeze before the seaside in front of me.

The usual fears crept in: What if he didn’t like me back? What if I lost his friendship? But then, I thought about how I had lost him once, how I never got the chance to tell him how I felt.

I sat on the terrace by the shore, rehearsing the lines of my confession in my head. Then, Julio sat beside me, offering the largest crepe I’d ever seen. It oozed with whipped cream, sprinkles, and berries as sugar frosted its thin wrapping.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me. He then took a bite out of his and got some frosting on his lips. “Delicious, isn’t it?”

I took my first bite out of the crepe. The frosting was a little too much, but it wasn’t as sweet as I thought it would be. It was just right.

“Yeah,” I said.

The more I ate out of the crepe, the more I agreed with him. I didn’t know much about desserts and cooking to describe it well, but it was still pretty tasty.

“So this is how you celebrate?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “So?”

“It’s just so… calm. And simple. When I hear the word celebrate, I think of loud music and big parties—”

“It’s not always like that. Sometimes, I like to celebrate by myself. Hell, when I get myself a cup of coffee, I celebrate. It just feels more wholesome that way. Clubs are too loud, and parties don’t happen too often at the Spanish House—for obvious reasons. Also, when I see people flaunting their big, expensive events with the large halls and buffet tables, I don’t see celebrating. Just a bunch of socialites showing off.”

“I see. I don’t enjoy those kinds of things, either. I had a few relatives get married as a child, and my parents would bring me along to their wedding.” I shuddered. “So much glitter and strangers.”

Julio chuckled. “Looks like we’re on the same page, but my experience is a little different. When I was a character, my dad died when I was young, and my mom got remarried to a Filipino-Chinese businessman. I’ve seen too many corporate affairs to make me realize that I don’t want a part of it.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re secretly an heir to your dad’s business.”

“Nah. This is not a drama, Quinn. And my stepdad’s snobby, extended relatives wouldn’t allow someone who wasn’t his son to run the business. I was the weird extension of my mom’s new family. I remember teachers making a big deal about Viv and me having different last names. It was embarrassing and unnecessary. What made things even worse was that Viv excelled while I sucked at everything—well, the things that mattered to them, at least.”

I was ashamed of not thinking about Viv as soon as I should have. We rarely had the chance to speak, but when we had, it was always about her brother, Julio. Then, there was also the fact that she had been traumatized by Cassandra possessing her. I imagined her finally recovering from that experience just to be struck by the news of her brother’s passing.

But it was all right, Quinn. That was all in another timeline.

“I used to live in a small town when my real dad was alive,” Julio continued. “Things were much simpler back then, but after my mom moved me to the Metropolis, my life began to feel pointless. I woke up, attended school, and went back to bed each day like a robot. It was all about doing well to get a decent job, and then what? I’ll have to urge my children to do the same thing? To do well in school? To get a job? To survive? We human beings have the most annoying life cycle on the planet. Leading the Spanish House feels so much easier compared to all that…”

Once he was done, his eyes widened as he looked at me. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. I got a little carried away. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I don’t mind listening.”

“I see.” He ate the last of his crepe and crumpled the wrapper. “You don’t mind the internal cynicism I carry around with me?”

“Hey, my mind isn’t the nicest place, too.”

“That’s the thing. We understand each other. We can catch each other when one of us spirals into bad thoughts.”

I nodded, taking my last bite of the crepe. Now that we’d fallen silent, I suppose it was the best time to finally tell Julio. I’d been stalling, and I could no longer take the agony.

But just as I was about to speak, he beat me to it.

“I like you, Quinn,” he said. “A lot.”

I almost slipped off the terrace. It surprised me how eloquently those words came out of his mouth. It was short and straightforward, better than any confession I could make.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” he continued. “Even if we haven’t known each other for long, I wanna be with you, to stand by your side when we defeat Cassandra. I believe that we can do it. Together. Don’t you?”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Had he liked me all along?

The thought of it made me melt, and when I looked at him, I failed to suppress a smile.

“Yes,” I mouthed. “Yes, I do…”

Without thinking, I leaned in and rested my head on his shoulder. He welcomed the gesture, placing an arm around my waist. We just sat there, staring at the sea beneath a bright, crescent moon. I wished every day were like that. I imagined meeting with him often by the seaside, watching the wind blow against the water.

Then, something weird happened. A small lily grew from the concrete beside me, creating a patch of grass by my palm. Where did it come from? It hadn’t been there before. But then, Julio placed a hand on my cheek before I could make any conclusions.

“Quinn,” he said. “Look at me…”

I turned to him, forgetting about the strange flower. My face was now inches away from him. He tucked some loose strands of my hair behind my ear. And ever so slowly, I closed my eyes…

“Quinn,” a voice called. “Quinn!”

I jolted, looking around. “What was that?”

Julio furrowed his brows. “What? What is it?”

My eyes scanned the seaside to find nothing unusual. People lined up at the food stalls. Couples held hands.

I must have been imagining things.

“Sorry,” I said. “I—it’s nothing.”

Julio laughed. “Nervous, huh?” He cupped my face.

“No. Not at all…”

He leaned forward, bringing his lips closer to mine. My mind raced. I wondered how nice it would feel to finally kiss him, to say he was mine. I imagined it would be everything I ever hoped for.

But just as he was about to close the gap between us, I heard that voice again.

“Quinn, please!”

I pulled away. Breathing heavily, I turned toward the line of food stalls. There, I found Rachael running down the path. Lilies grew beneath her feet as she stretched out her hands toward me.

“Wake up!”