A Link Forgotten [Tag: Max]

[Mikhail Rutherford]

//Disclaimer: Assumptions are made in this post regarding the resolution of the Twilight Town conflict. Its contents may be edited later on to adhere to our canon.//

Twilight Town had been on the verge of destruction, but its heart persevered.

Thanks to the combined efforts of heroes, both local and foreign, the assault on the world had finally come to an end. Its survival was no longer jeopardized by the Heartless… or at least not for the time being. Now, its citizens could finally start rebuilding. The process itself would be lengthy. It would probably take months, if not years for Twilight Town to cast off its broken moon and pitch black night skies, and bring back its trademark eternal sunsets. Despite the challenging task ahead though, people’s spirits remained high. They were hopeful, diligent, and eager to get to work; true, passionate dreamers.

Mikhail allowed himself to smile as he walked down Market Street, taking in the sudden change of activity in the area. That’s not to say the town hadn’t been lively before. Even while under the eye of the storm, people roamed around the area, gathering supplies for survival and trading for what they failed to obtain elsewhere. Regardless, it was a nice change of pace; they were no longer so preoccupied with living to fight another day, and instead focused their efforts on restoring the old natural habitats and gradually retaking areas outside the so-called “safe-zone”. The last he heard, they were aiming to finally venture into Station Plaza for scavenging.

The pyromancer, however, decided his talents would serve better elsewhere. While Twilight Town was no longer in danger of falling completely to darkness, bands of Heartless still roamed through some of the less frequented areas. Of course, the situation wasn’t as bad as it once had been, but the creatures remained a nuisance and a danger to wandering civilians. The world had already lost enough of its natives as it was; he wasn’t about to allow more to die by their hand.

Today’s self-imposed objective was to venture deeper into the underground tunnels, reaching the previously isolated Sunset Terrace if the Heartless waves allowed it. The deep darkness that had taken control of the network made long distance travel through them impossible once the Nightfall had come. Even with a decreasing number of hostiles in the zone, most citizens doubted visiting the neighboring district would be possible in the immediate future. Lifting their morale by proving them wrong seemed to be a rather noble goal in his eyes.

But as he began to make his way to the tunnel entrance he’d chosen the day before, old instincts kicked in. Something was amiss. The wind had turned tense, suffocating, almost as if the currents had all been brought to a stop by an external agent. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, senses heightened as he attempted to pick up a hint, anything regarding the feeling of uneasiness suddenly spreading throughout his body.

He was being watched.

Still, he decided not to stop dead in his tracks just yet. After all, the man wasn't sure of who or what exactly was following him nor why. He went on following the path, hands seemingly nonchalantly buried in his pockets. His awareness, both magical and physical was sharpened enough by now to alert him to any incoming hostile activities.

His goal for the day had taken a sudden yet interesting turn. Whether it was for better or for worse, of course, remained to be seen.

As Mikhail approached his intended entrance, he unexpectedly took a sharp turn to the right. A rusty, black wired fence stood tall before him; it would’ve blocked any further access if it weren’t for the big matching door left ajar on the right.

Once he walked through the worn gate, he felt it.

That aura.

Catching wind of the entity swiftly moving in on him from behind, Mikhail’s hand fished on pure instinct. A hue of teal shone through his right pocket, generating a solid barrier around the pyromancer in a mere instant. A bastard sword would immediately come into view, its strike aimed somewhere at his upper body. If its source proceeded with the attack, the dome erected around the man would most likely be enough to stop the attack.

“I was starting to wonder where you’d wandered off to, Max.”

[Maxwell Tendas]

The last several days had been hard for him. He hd escaped the group of strangers and run until he came upon a large tunnel in what seemed to be a deserted part of town. Without a second thought he had run inside, intending to disappear. Within an hour, several strange black creatures with yellow eyes attacked him. With the use of the sword he had grabbed, and the burst of light he had summoned earlier, he made quick work of them, turning them to black mist.

Afterward, he went deeper into the tunnels. As he went, he walked along large pipes and across metal grates with the sound of running water coming from underneath. He had paused where he was the first time he heard it, the sound making the hairs on his arms stand on end. The sound of the water filled his ears, seemingly growing louder. As it did, he could have sworn that he could feel the water flowing beneath him.

Almost as soon as the thought had occurred to him, the tunnels seemed to melt away. As it did, visions danced before his eyes, visions that he instinctively knew were memories of his past. What he saw were just small snippets, but as they passed he found himself with the entirety of the memory. All his memories didn’t return, though, only some of his earliest: the ancient ritual that gave him Water’s Gift, playing with his parents, and a name. His name...

Maxwell Tendas.

When he had come back to reality, he stood there, his mind running through his newly recovered memories. He wondered what happened to make him forget everything and where, if anywhere, in Grendam he was. That was when his mind turned to the black haired man. He had seemed to know Max, and he needed answers. It was as good a place as any to start. He had continued further into the tunnels at that point, forming a plan as he moved.

That had been several days ago, though, and now it was time to put his plan into action. He moved throughout the city, quiet and undetected, as he searched for the black haired man, avoiding contact with others as much as he could. It took a while to find the black haired man, but once he did he tailed him, moving silently in the shadows from a distance far enough away that he shouldn’t get suspicious. A smile was on the black haired man’s face as he moved through the streets, and Max found his demeanor irritating. The city they were in was in a state of constant nighttime, so far as he could tell, many of it’s buildings were in ruins or falling to it, and this man deigned to walk around with a smile? There must have been a reason for it, but Max didn’t know it. All he wanted was information from the man. And so he waited, and stalked, until he finally found his chance.

He tailed the man closer as he moved into an alleyway, staying just far back enough to be out of sight. He took a sudden turn though, away from the path Max would have expected him to take, going through an entryway in a large, rusty fence. Max paused, putting a hand on his sword as he watched and studied the entrance for several long moments. It might just be a different path to the man’s destination, but from what Max could see, it looked more like a dead-end corner that had been sectioned off from the rest of the alley. He couldn’t tell which, but in case of the latter, he wanted to be prepared as it would mean his quarry had somehow detected him. He quietly and slowly drew his sword and approached the entry, moving as silently as he could. He could see a brick wall directly opposite the entrance as he approached, only strengthening his suspicion that he’d been found out and was walking into a fight. He stopped just short of the entrance as he approached, took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt, then stepped through.

As he did so, he turned to his left, the most obvious place to surprise him from, and swung the sword in a wide arc. The swing was aimed right at the black haired man’s head, and if it hadn’t been for some sort of strange barrier around him it would have taken his head clean off. Luckily for the man and Max, the barrier deflected Max’s blow and send the sword’s blade into the links of the fence. Crossing his free hand underneath his sword-arm, Max summoned the bright light again, bringing his sword back across his body to the proper side. Once he did, he surged forward, hoping the surprise blinding would give him a chance to pin the man against the brick wall behind him.

“How do you know my name?!” He yelled angrily as he lunged.

[Mikhail Rutherford]

That blasted flash of light.

It was the same trick Max had used back at the Sandlot before wandering off to who knows where. That itself added another layer to the overall oddity of the situation. Since when did the soldier know how to wield light magic? The latest Mikhail knew, Max wasn’t even able to wield any sort of magic due to the nature of his water manipulating abilities. It hadn’t been brought up during their previous conversation either. Perhaps this was a side effect of his unorthodox resurrection… and thus linked to the amnesia he’d shown back then.

Unfortunately, this last tidbit seemed to remain active.

Mikhail turned away from the light’s source, his feet instinctively sliding to his right in an attempt to avoid any follow-up movements. The flash burned nonetheless, leaving him dazed for a brief moment but not completely blinded as before. "Max, stop! I’ll explain, just calm down! No need to get huffy."

The pyromancer barely managed to avoid the lunge. While he didn’t try to make any sort of counterattack to that, the Elonian’s right hand remained ready to access his materia in case things got rough again. His left remained raised in a harmless motion, feet slowly moving back in an attempt to increase the distance between the two. A mere precaution. Mikhail knew this Max wouldn’t try to inflict any sort of mortal damage. He seemed to be looking for answers, and a corpse wouldn’t be an optimal way to get them. Besides, this was Max. The last thing Rutherford wanted was to hurt and push his partner even further away.

"I’ll answer your questions," he’d continue if there weren’t any signs of further hostility. Tendas looked lost, almost in sheer state of alert. Nothing probably made sense to him right then. "And I'll help you out, but you need to keep it cool. I get that you’re very confused right now… but I’m on your side. We’re friends, alright?"

[Maxwell Tendas]

As Max lunges forward, the black haired man danced cleanly out of the way, despite being blinded. Max’s momentum carried him straight past his target and into the brick wall that had been behind him. The Grendaman bounced clumsily off of it and wheeled around as the black haired man called out to him.

“Max, stop! I’ll explain, just calm down! No need to get huffy,” he said, seemingly ready to react to another attack from Max at any moment. Despite the Grendaman’s aggression, though, his body language didn’t really show aggression so much as caution, and the expression on his face echoed concern rather than anger or aggression as he backed away. On top of that, he had a feeling of familiarity with this man that he couldn’t shake, like he could unquestioningly trust him. All of it together just confused him, which made him even angrier. It showed in the white-knuckled grip he had on the handle of his sword.

“I’ll answer your questions,” the black haired man continued, “And I’ll help you out, but you need to keep it cool. I get that you’re very confused right now...but I’m on your side. We’re friends, alright?”

Max allowed the tip of his sword to rest on the ground as he grimaced at the man in front of him. He took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly before speaking.

“Fine then,” he said, standing stock still where he was, “Where am I? What happened to me?”

And why the hell do I feel like I can trust you? he asked himself silently...

[Mikhail Rutherford]

Mikhail felt momentary relief as the older male slowly lowered his weapon. He had been right after all – Maxwell was just trying to make sense of his surroundings. The knight’s eyes followed the movement, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. With the air of aggression pacified for the time being, he could finally allow his body to relax some.

The hydromancer’s questions were simple enough, and understandable given his current predicament. Then again, Mikhail wasn’t exactly sure of what the man wanted to hear… nor how far back should he go in his retelling of events. How selective could this memory loss possibly be? Judging from the intensification of emotions linked to his aura, Max didn’t seem to know much about it either. Mikhail could virtually feel the frustration emanating from his stance as if it were his own.

Perhaps they could start by addressing the less convoluted subjects, and work their way up from there.

"This place – this world – is called Twilight Town. You’ve been here before, though it looked a bit… it was different back then. The sun shone brightly: never rising, never setting. That’s where it got its name from – a perpetual state of twilight. Now, well… as you can see, things changed."

For a moment, Mikhail considered elaborating more. They had met there all those years ago, along with Erika, Caxnon, Rubix and… Ria, was it? Those days seemed like a lifetime ago. It was strange to think about them, and it was even stranger to realize Max and him were the only ones still standing from that little group. They’d all been casualties of the darkness, like so many others before and after them. Rutherford shook the thought away; this was precisely why he avoided dwelling in the past.

"As for what happened to you," he continued, hesitation flashing briefly across his face. Again, the answer to that question could vary depending on a starting point. "You seem to have lost your memory. A big chunk of it, in fact. I’m not sure what you do remember, though. But if you tell me… I can try to help you put the pieces together."

Another pause.

"The name’s Mikhail, by the way."

[Maxwell Tendas]

Max's eyes stayed trained on the black haired man as he let out what could only be a sigh of relief. He seemed to relax some, and stood there for a moment seemingly thinking before continuing to speak.



"This place – this world – is called Twilight Town. You’ve been here before, though it looked a bit… it was different back then. The sun shone brightly: never rising, never setting. That’s where it got its name from – a perpetual state of twilight. Now, well… as you can see, things changed," he said. He paused for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought briefly before he continued.



"As for what happened to you," he started, pausing very briefly again to Max's irritation. He was beginning to lose patience with this "friend's" apparent hesitation to answer two very specific questions. However, this pause was so brief that he continued before Max could say something, "You seem to have lost your memory. A big chunk of it, in fact. I'm not sure what you do remember, though. But if you tell me... I can try to help you put the pieces together."



"The name's Mikhail, by the way," he said after another brief pause. Max just let out a near-silent sigh of frustration and stared at him for several long moments as silence hung in the air. Max instinctively shifted his jaw slightly to one side as he contemplated what he had just been told. 

First off, what did he mean by world? Wasn't the world's name Grendam? How could the entire world be a single town? None of it made any sense to him logically, but at the same time something about it sounded...right, or maybe even familiar. There were two sides of him at odds with this new information: one side which believed, no knew, what Mikhail had just told him was true, and the other that saw none of it made logical sense. Then there was the matter of his explanation as to what happened to Max. The Grendaman's memory loss was obvious, and for that he couldn't see Mikhail's explanation as anything but a flippant response. 

"First off, smartass, don't you think I know I lost my memory?" He said finally, glaring at Mikhail as he sheathed his sword, "I want to know what caused it."

He paused as he looked around them at the room they were in before continuing. 

"As far as this 'Twilight Town' place, you're going to have to elaborate," he said, bringing his gaze back to the Elonian, "The world's name is Grendam, and it sure as hell isn't all one town locked in perpetual night."

The only thing Max hadn't responded to was Mikhail's offer to help him piece things back together with his memory. He only had memories from roughly his first five years of life, and he clearly was older than that. There were things missing, and he needed answers.

And it seemed like the best place to get them was from Mikhail. 

"As far as what I remember," he said with a less angry tone in his voice this time, "I don't remember anything past the age of five."

[Mikhail Rutherford]

'At least that part of him isn’t gone,' Mikhail thought, internally amused by the other man’s reply. Ah, the insults. The wild temper. He’d reflected on the apparent irony of it multiple times before: a child of Zhaitar – who somehow learned how to tame the blaze within – and a hydromancer – who’d rather wear his heart on his sleeve. At first glance, one would think switching elements would suit them better… but alas, a storm raged on with little reservations, and restraint and caution often kept the flame alive.

Still, as cautious as he was, Max’s minor outburst scarcely fazed the Elonian. After all, the man wanted answers. Straight non-sugarcoated facts. If the soldier truly didn’t remember much past his early years – something Mikhail was prone to question, given the contradicting energies he sensed in the other’s aura – little of what he heard would make much sense. It was one thing to break the bad news to fresh arrivals, but this… this might as well be explaining the truths of the universe to a child.

"Well, that’s hardly a starting point", he began, unable to resist throwing in a quip of his own. "But I’ve worked with less."

A lie, of course. He’d seen episodes of short-term memory loss in others during Audentia’s war with Sapere, but this wasn’t quite the same nor had he dealt with those cases himself. Fortunately, he was no stranger to lying. ‘Innocent deceptions’, someone at their camp had dubbed them. Specks of fiction thrown into a web of otherwise truths. This had served him well back then; lies came easily to him, and he was good at them. More than good. Part of him wondered if this little lie was born out of pure snark, or an act of self-deceit.

"If I remember this right, you were a soldier back at your homeworld… a spearman. And you fought for this kingdom of sorts… Dryden, I think? Eh, it’s been a while since you last shared the tale… but bear with me." Nonetheless, Mikhail went on and shared whatever details he could recall about Maxwell’s life in Grendam. He spoke of the man’s mastery over water as well as the peculiar nature of the bond. The subject of Donovan – that friend Max had brought up a couple of times before – also came up, though the Elonian decided against going into the gruesome details of his demise. The knight also remembered Fort Sentra and the massive swarms of Heartless that had reportedly stormed it in the end. "You’ve probably run into them at some point after losing your memory. Odd creatures of varying shapes and sizes. You could say they’re darkness’s very own army of minions." Mikhail clarified, hoping the description would at least help him understand a bit better.

"In the end, your forces were unable to hold back the Heartless. They took hold of Grendam… but you survived. Somehow. And as hard as it probably is for you to believe, you found yourself awakening on another world. Just like this one," The Elonian extended his hands in a fitting gesture. "But yeah, you could say Twilight Town’s on the smaller side of the world size spectrum. On the tiny side, if we’re being really specific."

"I can go on, if you want. But I know all of this is quite a handful to swallow. I honestly won’t judge you if your first instinct is calling bullshit."

"But I sense part of you knows I’m not full of shit."

[Maxwell Tendas]

Max's face went through practically the full gamut of expressions as Mikhail recounted to him his own life's story: excitement at learning he had indeed fulfilled his early childhood dreams of becoming a soldier in the Drydenian army and at his description of how skilled the soldier had become at controlling water; a pained expression donned his face as he learned of his childhood friend's demise in Grendam, though somehow he didn't find the news to be exactly surprising for reasons unknown to him; something akin to mild surprise when Mikhail began describing the creatures he had fought in the tunnels, calling them "Heartless", and his description of how they had simply overwhelmed the defenders at Fort Sentra through sheer numbers; and finally confusion as he explained the bit about him surviving Grendam's destruction and awaking on other worlds. He had a strange feelings towards Mikhail's explanations: while he didn't have the accompanying memories to prove he was right, something about the explanations felt right, or at least mostly right. It was likely due to his abbreviated explanation of things, but there just seemed there were so many gaps in what he had said, and possibly even incorrect information. It was all very confusing for the soldier and he shook his head as Mikhail finished speaking.

"I can go on, if you want. But I know all of this is quite a handful to swallow. I honestly won't judge you if your first instinct is calling bullshit," he had said, "But I sense part of you knows I'm not full of shit."

Max just pursed his lips and clenched his jaw as he leaned against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh as he thought for several moments. He didn't know quite what to think of all this. Mikhail was certainly right about one thing: it was a lot to take in all at once. Max had never been one to back down from anything difficult before though, and he wasn't going to start doing so here. He let out another sigh before pushing himself off of the wall and standing up straight.

"I can't say why, but I think you're telling the truth," he said quietly as his eyes scanned their surroundings, which seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time, "The thing I don't understand is why. Even you mentioning Donovan's death in Grendam doesn't surprise me. I don't have the memories, but...it's like I still know everything that's happened somewhere inside my mind.

"But no, I want to remember as much as I can, as fast as I can," he said, locking his eyes on Mikhail's now, "If what you're saying is true about the Heartless, then this world is in trouble too. I might not have been able to save my home, but I can at least try to do something here."

He paused and turned towards the doorway, standing in it as he surveyed the alleyway beyond it. The buildings around them seemed in disrepair, near to the point of falling into complete ruin. The dark sky loomed above, the broken moon casting a pale, dim light that almost gave everything an eerie glow. He turned back to Mikhail, a determined look on his face as he lightly rested one arm on the pommmel of his sword.

"I just don't know where to start," he said quietly...

[Mikhail Rutherford]

A quick look of relief flashed Mikhail's face. Unexpectedly, but fortunate enough for the Elonian's patience, it didn't take much to convince Maxwell. Maybe, just maybe… his friend's old self wasn't entirely lost to oblivion. Maybe the memories were still there in some shape or form, just locked away for the time being. It wouldn't be easy, and the situation overall had already taken enough of a toll on everyone involved, but the knight just had to believe the other man would pull through. He had to. Mikhail himself would drag Max all the way back from this amnesiac state if needed. The guy was the closest thing to family he had left, after all.

Besides, it wasn't like this was the first time they were dealing with the whole "Max is coming back from the dead with unexplainable new abilities and temporary trauma" drama.

"That's good. Means your memories aren't entirely gone, and there should be a way to get them back. I'd say that's a start." The Elonian noted, trying to give him some hope on the matter. However, the hydromancer seemed to be preoccupied with other things… such as the dark elephant in the room. That certainly was frustrating in Mikhail's eyes, though he couldn't entirely deem it out of character. Max's sudden determination to adopt blind bravado and heroics was admirable at the very least. The effectiveness of a broken Drydenian, nonetheless, remained a questionable variable. In the end, the soldier had to focus on putting himself together before rejoining the fray.

"There are people working on that front as we speak. Some of us have been fighting the good fight for years. I can tell you more about that later. You, on the other hand, need to work on prodding at that memory some more. Looking for "triggers" might be a good place to start." Mikhail's eyes briefly lingered at the rusty external plumbing connecting the area with the underground water system. "Your connection to water, for example. Have you tried exploring that? Consciously, I mean?"

The element was close to Maxwell's heart; his whole existence was pretty much linked to it. Regaining control over it would kill two birds with one stone: improve his chances of survival overall, and hopefully help him remember some more.