Chapter 7: The Last One Left.

Author’s Note:
I probably shouldn’t have written this on my mom’s birthday. The hospital scene hit me harder than I expected. I’m a pretty sensitive person, so that might’ve amplified the reaction, but damn… it felt way too close. It hurt. I had to stop for a bit before I could keep going.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, my guys. Let me know what you think in the comments!

The Abyss Stares Back

Chapter 7: The Last One Left.

Nathaniel Vazquez.

Brockton Bay.

My thoughts were spiraling... grief, rage, and a gnawing pit of self-hatred churning in my chest as I stared blankly at the phone. Ordis was mercifully silent beside me, but just knowing he was there helped keep the tears at Bay.

Was I okay? Hell no. I was furious, burning with cold, almost maddening hatred. But I wasn’t about to do something stupid. I forced myself to think things through.

“Operator,” Ordis finally spoke through the speakers, his voice low, “I admit I do not fully understand what you’re feeling right now… but you need to know, this is not the end.”

“How isn’t this the end, Ordis?” I let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh, tears stinging again. “My mom and I don’t have the best relationship, yeah, but she’s the one who raised me after Dad died. The memory I have of her, the one before the drugs, is one I'll always treasure. And now she’s in the fucking hospital!” I shouted by the end.

“But you must not lose hope, Operator,” Ordis replied, unusually solemn. “You are a Tenno. And one stepping into the role of Operator Hayes.”

“And how the fuck does that help me right now?” I snapped. “How does all this inhuman power fix my mom?”

“As all Tenno do, Operator,” Ordis chirped, a slight glitch cracking through the seriousness, “by switching Warframes to fit the situation.”

That made me pause. I hadn’t checked all the Warframes I didn’t have yet; I figured that they weren't important because I couldn't unlock them, but… could one actually help?

“What are you saying, Ordis?” I asked, sharper now. “Is there a Warframe that can heal her?”

“But of course, Operator,” Ordis answered cheerfully. If he were human, I was sure he'd be grinning like an idiot. “There are several Warframes that might help, depending on the nature of the damage. Not that you can use them right now.”

“And why the hell not, Ordis?” I growled. “Can’t you see she needs help now?”

Ordis’s drone stopped mid-flight, hovering still. “I understand, Operator. But you must understand me as well. I am bound by my Orders. Every Operator must earn their strength.”

“Then explain it properly, man.” I exhaled and sank down, my back against the Orbiter. It wasn’t really visible, but the cool metal still helped me.

“Think about it, Operator,” Ordis implored. “What would happen if a Tenno had access to everything your predecessor had at a moment’s notice? Don’t you think it’s wiser to grow into your abilities? Is Mag not good enough for you?”

“You know she is,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I get what you’re saying; I just don’t like it.”

“And I expected that, Operator. But my hands are tied,” Ordis replied, a note of regret in his voice. “That doesn’t mean this is the end.”

He floated around me, lights blinking softly as he drifted toward the house in a sudden hurry.

Snorting, I followed after my quirky companion. I didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose, but somehow, he managed to calm me down. At least a little.

“What are you doing, Ordis?” I asked, watching him glide across the living room. His scanner lit the space in flickering blue.

“Investigating,” he replied curtly.

I kept quiet while he did his thing. I wanted, no, needed to go see Mom, but I knew Ordis didn’t waste time. If he was scanning the room, there was a reason.

I sighed and moved toward the kitchen, instinct guiding me to get a glass of water. I opened the fridge, grabbed some ice, and froze.

I hadn’t drunk a single drop of water in three days. Or eat, for that matter.

Between training and helping rebuild the Orbiter, I hadn’t even noticed. Just how much had that being changed me?

I shook my head slowly. Even if I didn’t feel the need, I went ahead and filled the glass anyway and drank it, then waited a moment. Then filled another.

Nothing. No nausea. No weird symptoms. Just… normal.

Huh.

I grabbed a half-eaten chocolate bar from the fridge and scarfed it down like a lab rat testing a theory. Same thing, absolutely no problems.

Thank god I wasn’t like that Earth Aleph movie about the symbiote that could only eat human heads and chocolate.

Small blessings, I guess.

Ordis’s drone entered the kitchen after a minute or so, and I waited somewhat patiently for him to start speaking.

He hovered in the air momentarily before scanning the home appliances, making me groan under my breath. I almost laughed when I noticed the faint whir in his motor. A judgmental, of course, as much as it didn't make sense.

He didn’t look impressed.

“Operator, by the Void, this technology is… laughably primitive,” he finally said, voice teetering between disgust and smugness.

Fucking flying toaster. It was my house he was laughing about.

I rolled my eyes, making sure he caught it. “Welcome to Earth, buddy. Not every world gets shiny space tech and void-powered murder puppets. Laugh it up.”

Ordis beeped cheerfully. “I’m glad you understand, Operator.”

“But I digress,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. He spun around me in a lazy circle, lights blinking as he added, “Given that our current situation does not match any standard operation in my database, I’ve begun constructing a personalized progression path for you.”

I tilted my head. “Meaning?”

“I mean,” Ordis replied, and I swear I could hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m tailoring a modular unlock protocol suited to your current psychological profile and the… peculiarities of this version of Earth.”

“Sounds suspiciously like a video game,” I smirked at the floating bastard. “Like an RPG skill tree?”

“If that helps your primitive brain comprehend the concept, then yes, Operator,” he deadpanned.

I grinned at the jab. He could be such a sarcastic toaster when he wanted to be.

“So… how will it work, then?” I asked after a beat.

“I’ve begun infiltrating the planetary data network,” Ordis said, chipper as ever, making my stomach tighten in fear. “My initial focus is on this ‘Brockton Bay.’ I’m compiling data on local parahumans, human-adjacent threats, and likely enemies.”

My brow rose. “So, what, unlock things by beating bosses?”

“By feats or something equivalent, yes,” he replied distractedly, already multitasking with something I had no idea about.

“And how long’s that gonna take?” I asked.

“A while,” he admitted, his tone suddenly flatter, more distant. “But frankly, Operator, I believe you have more immediate concerns.”

Right. Mom...

My grin faded, and I nodded. “Are you staying here?”

“Yes, Operator,” Ordis answered carefully. “I believe you would benefit from some time alone before seeing your mother.”

“Thanks, Ordis. I appreciate it,” I said, sincerity creeping into my voice. “And make sure no one can trace you back here.”

“Bah,” he scoffed. “As if anything on this planet could even attempt such a thing.”

I shook my head, smirking despite myself. Then, a memory of Mom, one of years ago, smiling before the world went to shit, flashed through my mind.

I just hoped I could help her.

Brockton Bay General.

Seeing the unassuming hospital doors, the ones I’d walked through more times than I could count, I sighed and steeled myself before heading in.

Thankfully, I knew the receptionist. There were no awkward questions or red tape, so I approached her without hesitation. Lucky for me, the hospital wasn’t overflowing today; traffic was normal by Brockton standards.

“Cindy,” I greeted with a dry smile. “Long time no see.”

“Oh, Nate,” she said, standing up and hugging me. Cindy had been a friend of Mom’s before everything went to hell. She wasn’t exactly cold, just a no-nonsense pragmatist, but right now, the way she held me told me she’d been more worried than I’d expected.

“My boy, where’ve you been? I’ve heard so many things… but didn’t know what to believe.” She pulled back and gave me a once-over, eyes scanning for any sign of injury.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” I muttered with a sigh and a half-smirk. “I’m guessing you already know why I’m here?”

She met my eyes, her expression softening. “I can take you to her if you’d like.”

I gave a faint smile, though I'm sure it didn’t reach my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Rubbish,” she scoffed, then turned toward the younger girl at the next desk engrossed through a glossy magazine. “Claire, be a dear and cover for me. I’ve got something important to handle.”

Claire groaned, but after one sharp look from Cindy, she nodded quickly and slipped into the seat.

I smirked. Cindy hadn’t changed. The take-no-shit type who always gets things done. She’d been working at this hospital longer than most of the damn doctors.

“Follow me, dear,” she said, her voice gentler now. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Thank you, Cindy.” I followed her through the halls. “You’ve got no idea how much this means to me.”

The hospital looked the same as always... tired. Not just old or run-down…, but defeated. It was the kind of place where even hope felt like a luxury. The doctors, nurses, visitors. Everyone wore the same exhausted expression. The Bay took its toll, and while we were used to it, that didn’t mean we had to like it.

“How’ve you been holding up?” I asked.

“Same old, same old,” she replied with a shrug. “You know how it is here; some days are hell, and the rest are quiet enough to let the dread really settle in. On a sunny day, you’ll find more joy in a flock of goth girls.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. That’s the Bay for you.”

She sighed, slowing her steps. I matched her pace.

“Your mother gave us a few scares, Nate,” she said quietly.

I didn’t say anything. Just let her talk.

“She was in a bad state when Assault brought her in,” she explained. “Dr. Kerrigan mentioned he already spoke with you, so I won’t go over everything again… but it was bad. Real bad.”

Cindy hesitated as if she wasn’t sure how much she should say and then sighed. “Besides the injuries… she was high. High as a damn kite, Nathaniel. And as much as I hate to admit it… it probably saved her life.”

My chest tightened, and my tone dropped. “What do you mean, Cindy?”

She looked away. “We’re not sure what she was on, exactly. The best guess is some new variant of PCP. Whatever it was, it dulled her pain response and made her muscles seize up. That… slowed the damage. Kept her going long enough to get here.”

I stopped walking.

I wanted to believe she was wrong. Wanted to believe the bastard who stabbed me was just trying to mess with my head. I needed to believe Mom had been trying like she said she was. But deep down, that part of me that never stopped bracing for disappointment… it already knew.

“What happened after?” I asked. My throat felt dry. Hollow.

Cindy sighed, her voice heavy with guilt. “The drugs kept her alive long enough for help, yeah. But that crash hit her hard. Too hard. It brought a whole wave of complications. Right now…” She hesitated. “We don’t know if she’ll wake up, Nate.”

We didn’t say much after that. There wasn’t really anything else to say.

Cindy led me down the hall, her steps slower now. Maybe for me. Maybe for herself.

When we reached the room, she paused by the door and looked at me... really looked at me. Her expression was softer than I’d ever seen it. The usual edge in her eyes was gone, replaced by something gentler. Something that said, you don’t have to pretend right now.

“She’s stable,” Cindy said quietly. “But we lost her twice before she even made it into surgery. Flatlined both times. But they managed to bring her back both times. After that, they had to induce a coma. Her vitals were all over the place, and we couldn’t risk another spike.”

I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “She… she died?”

“For a minute, yeah,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “But she’s still here, Nate. Hanging on.”

I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak. Cindy pushed open the door.

The room was cold. And the sterile smell invaded my nostrils.

Machines beeped steadily in the background, a quiet rhythm that filled the silence in the worst way possible.

Mom looked small under the thin blanket... and too still. Too pale compared to her usual complexion.

Tubes ran from her arms, an oxygen mask strapped to her face, monitors tracing every breath and heartbeat like they were afraid to let go for even a second.

It didn’t feel real.

Cindy stayed by the door, giving me space as I stepped inside.

I pulled the single chair closer and sat down beside the bed. My fingers hovered over her hand but stopped just short of touching.

“I’m here, Mom,” I whispered. My voice cracked at the end, and I hated it. I hated how fucking fragile I sounded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Mom.”

A part of me hoped she'd squeeze my hand. Do something. Absolutely anything, but she didn’t move.

I bowed my head, pressing my palm to my face. The sting behind my eyes wasn’t just exhaustion anymore.

Cindy came up behind me and rested a hand on my shoulder. She didn’t say anything. Just stood there, solid and steady, like she’d done this a thousand times for a thousand broken families. But right now, she wasn’t a nurse. She was Cindy. Mom’s old friend. The woman who used to sneak me candy when no one was looking. And that made all the difference.

“You’re not alone, dear,” she murmured. “Don’t ever think you are.”

I nodded, biting back the shaking breath threatening to leave me.

The door creaked open behind us.

I didn’t look up immediately, but I heard the familiar voice.

“Nate,” said Dr. Kerrigan gently.

He entered the room with two other people, some faces I hadn’t seen in months. Janice and Rob, Mom’s old drinking buddies from before the spiral. Back when things were still mostly okay. They’d drifted away when everything got worse… but from the looks on their faces, they never stopped caring.

Janice was the first to come closer. “I’m so sorry, kid,” she said, kneeling slightly to meet my eyes. “She talked about you all the time… even when she wasn’t doing well.”

“She always wanted to get better for you,” Rob added, scratching the back of his neck. “We... we should’ve done more. Should’ve checked in.”

Dr. Kerrigan gave me a slight nod. “She’s a fighter, Nate. She didn’t want to give up. She fought hard.”

I took a shaky breath and finally looked up, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?”

No one answered right away… and that silence told me everything.

Cindy squeezed my shoulder.

And I let myself feel it for the first time in a long while.

Not the anger. Not the guilt. Just… the deep ache.

The tears came back, unhinged now, spilling down before I could stop them. Seeing my mother’s still body in that bed filled me with something I couldn’t name. It wasn’t the same ache I felt when Dad died.

In some ways… this was worse.

I loved my mom... even after everything. After the arguments, the disappointment, the broken promises. I still loved her. I wanted to do more for her. I wanted to help her. But seeing her like this... unmoving, pale, barely hanging on, shattered something in me that had never cracked before.

Nothing else I'd been through compared to this moment.

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt, trying to pull myself together, to breathe, to at least function. But the thought hit me like a freight train...

I was alone now.

If Mom didn’t come back... I’d be the last one. No family. No one left.

“What am I going to do, Mom…” I choked out, voice trembling. “Please… please don’t leave me.”

I waited. Hoped to hear something. Feel something.

But she remained as still as before. No change at all.

Cindy pulled me into a tight hug. Her warmth and presence held me together even as I crumbled again. I couldn’t stop it. Even knowing there was a chance, a possibility, wasn’t enough to hold back the storm inside me.

“Dr. Kerrigan,” I murmured as I turned to look at him. The look in his eyes just made it worse.

“Yes, kid?” he asked softly.

“How likely is it… that her condition gets worse? And if it’s inevitable… how long do I have?”

He exhaled through his nose, tired. “It’s hard to say, Nathaniel. Months, maybe, if we’re lucky. But after that…” He shook his head. “It becomes a coin toss. We’re doing everything possible but don’t know how long that’ll be enough.”

“It’s the money, isn’t it?” I asked, quieter now. I didn’t need him to answer. I could feel it, like a weight in the room.

“You know how things are in the Bay, Nate,” he admitted. “We’re understaffed. Resources are thin. MedHall’s sucking up most of the funding these days. We’ll keep fighting for her, but... we don’t know how long we can keep her here.”

“Don’t worry about that, Doctor,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ll get the money. Just make sure she gets everything she needs, alright?”

Dr. Kerrigan opened his mouth, but no words came. I could tell he felt it. The conviction on my promise, no matter the consequences.

“I promise, boy,” he said at last. “You have my word.”

I looked around at all of them: Cindy, Kerrigan, Janice, and Rob. These people didn’t have to show up. Didn’t have to care. But they did.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, offering a sad smile. “All of you. You didn’t have to do any of this… but you did. And I won’t forget it.”

Nate’s home, later that night.

I wandered for a while after leaving the hospital. Mom’s friends stayed behind for a bit, but eventually, they had to return to their lives. Still, the fact that they came at all… that said everything.

It was hard. There’s no simpler way to say it. No word that fit the weight sitting in my chest. But I wasn’t going to let it stay like this.

I would save my mother.

No matter what it took.

And the people responsible for what happened? They wouldn’t get away with it. Not this time. Not from me. I didn’t know what I wanted with my new powers before this, but after seeing my mother’s condition… I didn’t plan to be merciful like the police or PRT.

This wasn’t something I could forgive.

Part of me hoped something would go down on my way home, some mugging, some random asshole looking for trouble, just to have an excuse to let loose. No consequences in my mind, just violence. But the streets stayed quiet.

Of course they did; I wasn't that lucky.

Unlocking the front door, I stepped into the house and immediately felt the difference. The air felt heavier. Emptier. It wasn’t the same anymore, not without her.

“Ordis?” I called out, voice louder than usual. The living room was dark, with no sign of his drone.

A soft whir came from behind me, and I turned.

“Operator,” Ordis chirped, floating into view. “What news do you bring?”

“Not good ones,” I sighed, collapsing onto the couch. “She’s stable… for now. But time’s limited. I need a way to get money... and fast.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Operator,” Ordis replied gently, voice softer than usual. “But perhaps we can, as your people say, kill two birds with one stone.”

I raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“After finishing my sweep of the city’s data network, I’ve finalized your progression path,” he continued, more upbeat. “I’ve categorized the gangs and powered individuals by threat level, mostly based on public rumor and verifiable intel. I’ve also studied local parahuman law… and you’ll be pleased to know that the money stolen from criminals is not legally recoverable by them.”

I blinked. “You mean… I can keep it?”

“Correct, Operator,” Ordis confirmed. “If funds are taken from criminal activity, and no official report or claim exists on the assets, there are very few legal pathways for restitution. Your law enforcement refers to it as 'finders keepers' informally, of course.”

He flicked a projection open. A floating list filled the air before me, including names, numbers, locations, and intel. It was… extensive.

Worthy work of a space AI made by some space gods, I suppose.

“The Merchants currently hold an estimated $1.4 million in liquid assets across safehouses, not counting drugs. There is approximately $2.1 million in the ABB in unmarked bills and smuggled goods. The Empire 88 has roughly $4.6 million, largely in investments and crypto accounts, but at least $900,000 is accessible through cash holdings or converted assets.”

My jaw clenched. That was an absurd amount of money.

“If you’re willing to take action,” Ordis continued, “I can provide you with safe target locations. You’ll unlock more of your capabilities and ensure your mother’s care is uninterrupted. Oh, and I’ve added a remote task system. If you permit, I can carry out hits or resource extraction abroad through Warframe deployment.”

“You can fly out?” I asked, stunned.

“Remotely, yes,” Ordis confirmed. “Though I’d prefer your presence for anything requiring significant combat deviation. For their safety, of course.”

“Right…” I leaned forward, smirking, but my mind raced. “Anything else?”

Ordis paused for a fraction of a second, just enough to send a chill down my spine.

“Yes, Operator. I took the liberty to investigate who harmed your mother. The attacker was a known Merchant. Tag: Rico Vance. He acted under direct orders from the gang’s leader… Skidmark.”

My nails dug into the armrest, and my chest heaved as I tried to control myself.

And then the rage hit.

A deep, volcanic thing that simmered beneath my skin until it exploded, full force. I slammed my fist into the table, cracking the cheap wood in two. Void energy rolled out of my body in waves, warping the air and rattling the walls as if the world itself flinched away from me.

“Skidmark,” I growled, my voice low and seething. “He sent someone to hurt her? Why would he even do that?”

I stood abruptly, pacing, fists clenched so tightly they shook. The air felt heavier around me, and I could see the two halves of the table disappearing into nothing.

“I’ll gut that bastard. Him and anyone else involved. I don’t care what I must do. I will end him.”

Ordis didn’t interrupt. He just hovered in silence, lights dimmed. Watching.

I turned toward him, breathing ragged.

“Mark him. Mark all of them. Every safehouse. Every supply line. Every single person tied to what happened to her.”

“As you wish, Operator,” Ordis said quietly, then he glitched, his voice fracturing.

“The hunt begins. Ah—yes—yesyesyes—finally—”

His drone twitched mid-air, lights pulsing in erratic patterns for a second.

“Oh, excuse me. Slight calibration hiccup,” he added smoothly as if nothing had happened. “Target locations are ready, Operator.”