Post by M.A.P. on Jan 14, 2010 13:38:49 GMT -8
She had left. Left it all. Even Honcho. She had been taken away. Trapped- by none other than herself. Her mind had become trapped in the memories- the passive girl became translucent and the anger and violence which once reigned her existence became solid. She pushed everyone away. Honcho given to a child. Her occupation put on hold. Her friendships lost through her own disappearance.
Winter. Solid and cold, chilling and fulfilling. holidays and memories- no one had expected her appearance. No one had seen her enter... the camera's had caught only the slip of raven hair and a bloodied blonde falling to his end. The police report would claim suicide of one John Smith- as no name, fingerprints or dental records could be found.
But that was not the end.
Time passed. Injuries accumulated. He came out of hiding.
But it wasn't as dramatic as one would think. He planned the meeting. He appeared on a bench on the gate. The bikers path at midnight was empty- except for the two of them.
He was older, much older- wrinkled and gray. His clothing was still well pressed and businesslike, but age- had taken him only a step or two closer to deaths door.
"Ah my sweet niece. You've finally come back," his cool voice called to her- chilling the already frozen air- even now, hunched over and requiring a cane for mobility, she had kept her distance.
"I will end this... I will not continue as a monster," she told him.
"Ah but you are my perfect design, 3142. One out of two whom survived trials, chemicals, tribulations, mind manipulation."
"I am the only one," she answered- tossing the ring the other had worn at the man.
He caught it, looking it over, his smile grew stern, though never faded, "Yes. Kiran. I am aware of what you've done. It was a loss- well accepted. He wasn't worthy."
"He was your son," she reminded him, "Your blood."
"That is simply water under the bridge. You're my prize creation," was the reply as he tucked the ring away into a pocket.
"I am no creation. I'm a human, I want to live like one."
"Nonsense," he stood slowly, his weight on his cane, arm out with enthusiastic gesture, "All the 'normal' human race is a bore. You want to be genuine, like the Ocean Star, Hindenburg, Titanic, and Hope Diamond. You're my masterpiece."
"I want to feel and see. To be normal. To not forgot what the sun and the moon are, to know the names of the people I've met," she watched him intently, "I want to make my life as I see it."
"Memory loss is simply a safety feature. Every year you're to start a new. Re-learn and re-invent. Don't you understand? You're perfection," He moved closer, "Why not live what I've made for you- live as I've designed you. You have had countless lifetimes in one life alone. All the more you'll have is simply unknown until you live them."
"I only want one life. I want the one you took from me," her tone darkened, her eyes narrowing, "and I will continue to take yours until you give me back mine."
He threw his head back and laughed, adjusting his glasses, "And what is there for you to take, 3142? You've murdered my only son, you've ended the lives of three of my best stealth intelligence, you've broken into and destroyed all but one of my homes. You're a criminal at this point. A heartless mindless monster sought out by the police for murder and arson."
"I am no murderer. I've done only-" her eyes grew wide, the realization hitting harder than a bodybuilder wielding a sledgehammer- she had.. completed her programming.
"Only as programmed," he laughed, "Face it, 3142, you are perfect. You can pass any lie detector, leave no trace of yourself, and still manage to end enough lives to be deemed a monster in the eyes of society."
Shaking her head, taking a step back, "I- I have done what had to, to get back to you. To draw you out so I could end you. So I can end this game."
"Oh- but not a game, my Sweet- my Dove," He slowly brought a small whistle from his pocket, "Simply the end of good programming- it's time to rewrite you. Maybe make you something more... compliant."
"I will not. I am not a program, I am a human being!" She answered, eyes on the whistle- she knew that whistle... that item. She remembered it from so long ago, through all the haze.
"Though, to leave you as is. All those memory lapses. I wonder, after this next lapse- will you remember their blood, your training, the years of situations and treatments?" he smiled incredulously into the night sky, no longer focusing on her. "The only chance you would have is to kill me. And to start over. The next lapse will either kill you or renew you."
"Next Lapse?"
"The overheating, that mind numbing lapse into darkness, which always reviews a training session- the next will either kill you... or is possibly... what is occuring right at this moment." He laughed, looking to her, his appearance suddenly younger and more vital, "You honestly wouldn't think I wouldn't develop you without a fail safe once your original programming had ended? Do you?."
"I'll send you to meet your son!"
The illusion of youth had been just that. An illusion- heat poured off of her skin and he brought the whistle to his lips. She slapped it away, grabbing his wrist and throwing him to the side. His cane skittering away from his reach.
"What a thing to add to your record. Killing an old man. Can you live with it? The guilt of killing someone who made you special." he tried desperatly to get up, but the panic in his tone- the sound so unfamiliar and sweet to her ears... was genuine. He had expected her to be slower.
The ring, secured on the end of her hair, shimmered, swinging as a counter weight. To him, in the moonlight, it seemed to whisper death's coming- just as a guillotine before the end does as the prisoner is marched to rest his neck for the last time. The cool air had no comparison for the heat which rose from her. Flashes of the past, the horror, the screams, the fear- they all now seemed to be only that... flashes, memories... the voice of the damned and the lost calling all for one thing- the death of the madman who once held them.
"You don't have the heart. You'll wake up covered in blood and scared with no one but yourself." he struggled to his feet, struggled to the railing beside him, "You don't have power. You can't redeem your sins or save those who've fallen for the conquest of knowledge."
She walked to him, her long slender fingers wrapping around his throat, his eyes going wider with fear as her expression softened and her grip tightened, "Now I lay you down to sleep,"
"Rethink this, Melantha." he gasped, begging with a forced breath, his hands clawing at hers.
I pray Apollyon your soul to keep, her tone remained soft, as if she was truly praying him to sleep.
"You don't have to do this... let me live." His eyes began to grow red, trembling, his desperation growing in his voice.
and if you're alive when I awake- her voice didn't tremor as the darkness drew into it- a small smile on her lips.
"Melantha,without... me you'll never know... where you belong." he struggled less, his hands slowly remaining on hers, his eyes moving to the stars, around his lips tinges of blue began to appear, his eyes bloodshot- he tried only now to stare at the sky.
Pray Adonai your soul to take." she didn't release- only drew closer, over him- she stood over the fallen man as her grip increased only more.
"Let.... me...live...." he gasped once more as his chest failed to raise once more. She released him, watching him as he sat propped against the wall.
A flash of moonlight, a small line appeared across his neck and crimson flowed freely. As freely as the souls of those bound to his existence now fled. She watched every last bit pool and flow around his fallen frame.
His once life filled eyes had milked over, she closed the lids and spoke only one word.
"Amen".
Turning, she ran- leaping over the edge of the bridge and disappeared.
----------------------------------
Ice surrounded her being, no air was close, violet eyes stared helplessly towards where the moon belonged, where the sun reigned.
How had she gotten here. How had she become covered in so much sin and horror. Numbness filtering though her veins, she watched the clouded crimson spread through the murky water.
It has never been clear. The purpose- her purpose.. it had been met. She was free...free from what- is the correct question. Their blood was lifting front her skin as her own began to freeze. Her eyes slowly began to close- it could be over. No more memories, no more trauma, no more pain, no more lost friends, no more anything. Just darkness, just silence, just quiet- only death.
---------------------------
But this is not the end. It's never the end.
"C'mon, Miss, wake up!"
Pressure on her chest, warm air traveled through closed airways- she gagged. Long lashes fluttering over violet eyes. Slowly she coughed river from her lungs- her savior sitting back and sighing with relief.
"Oh man, I thought you were dead!"
Turning her head towards him, she studied the face- it was kind and worried, a deal older than the voice gave away, she gave him a small smile, "Thank you."
"No- no problem...sorry about your hair though,, had to cut it from the tree roots... you're really lucky, Miss."
Shestood, bones and body aching, her lungs on fire and feet unsteady. Her savior on his feet and quick to steady her.
"Should you be standing? I should take you to the hospital, it can't be healthy to have been in the river water- let alone to be up from nearly drowing."
She only gave him half an ear, her eyes studying this world of black,white and gray seeming familiar and safe. She was back to where she should have been. But this time... something felt different, better... she felt alive and no longer hollow.
She hugged the man and walked away, her left hand in her hair... now shorter than shoulder length and oddly cut.
"I'm alive."
Winter. Solid and cold, chilling and fulfilling. holidays and memories- no one had expected her appearance. No one had seen her enter... the camera's had caught only the slip of raven hair and a bloodied blonde falling to his end. The police report would claim suicide of one John Smith- as no name, fingerprints or dental records could be found.
But that was not the end.
Time passed. Injuries accumulated. He came out of hiding.
But it wasn't as dramatic as one would think. He planned the meeting. He appeared on a bench on the gate. The bikers path at midnight was empty- except for the two of them.
He was older, much older- wrinkled and gray. His clothing was still well pressed and businesslike, but age- had taken him only a step or two closer to deaths door.
"Ah my sweet niece. You've finally come back," his cool voice called to her- chilling the already frozen air- even now, hunched over and requiring a cane for mobility, she had kept her distance.
"I will end this... I will not continue as a monster," she told him.
"Ah but you are my perfect design, 3142. One out of two whom survived trials, chemicals, tribulations, mind manipulation."
"I am the only one," she answered- tossing the ring the other had worn at the man.
He caught it, looking it over, his smile grew stern, though never faded, "Yes. Kiran. I am aware of what you've done. It was a loss- well accepted. He wasn't worthy."
"He was your son," she reminded him, "Your blood."
"That is simply water under the bridge. You're my prize creation," was the reply as he tucked the ring away into a pocket.
"I am no creation. I'm a human, I want to live like one."
"Nonsense," he stood slowly, his weight on his cane, arm out with enthusiastic gesture, "All the 'normal' human race is a bore. You want to be genuine, like the Ocean Star, Hindenburg, Titanic, and Hope Diamond. You're my masterpiece."
"I want to feel and see. To be normal. To not forgot what the sun and the moon are, to know the names of the people I've met," she watched him intently, "I want to make my life as I see it."
"Memory loss is simply a safety feature. Every year you're to start a new. Re-learn and re-invent. Don't you understand? You're perfection," He moved closer, "Why not live what I've made for you- live as I've designed you. You have had countless lifetimes in one life alone. All the more you'll have is simply unknown until you live them."
"I only want one life. I want the one you took from me," her tone darkened, her eyes narrowing, "and I will continue to take yours until you give me back mine."
He threw his head back and laughed, adjusting his glasses, "And what is there for you to take, 3142? You've murdered my only son, you've ended the lives of three of my best stealth intelligence, you've broken into and destroyed all but one of my homes. You're a criminal at this point. A heartless mindless monster sought out by the police for murder and arson."
"I am no murderer. I've done only-" her eyes grew wide, the realization hitting harder than a bodybuilder wielding a sledgehammer- she had.. completed her programming.
"Only as programmed," he laughed, "Face it, 3142, you are perfect. You can pass any lie detector, leave no trace of yourself, and still manage to end enough lives to be deemed a monster in the eyes of society."
Shaking her head, taking a step back, "I- I have done what had to, to get back to you. To draw you out so I could end you. So I can end this game."
"Oh- but not a game, my Sweet- my Dove," He slowly brought a small whistle from his pocket, "Simply the end of good programming- it's time to rewrite you. Maybe make you something more... compliant."
"I will not. I am not a program, I am a human being!" She answered, eyes on the whistle- she knew that whistle... that item. She remembered it from so long ago, through all the haze.
"Though, to leave you as is. All those memory lapses. I wonder, after this next lapse- will you remember their blood, your training, the years of situations and treatments?" he smiled incredulously into the night sky, no longer focusing on her. "The only chance you would have is to kill me. And to start over. The next lapse will either kill you or renew you."
"Next Lapse?"
"The overheating, that mind numbing lapse into darkness, which always reviews a training session- the next will either kill you... or is possibly... what is occuring right at this moment." He laughed, looking to her, his appearance suddenly younger and more vital, "You honestly wouldn't think I wouldn't develop you without a fail safe once your original programming had ended? Do you?."
"I'll send you to meet your son!"
The illusion of youth had been just that. An illusion- heat poured off of her skin and he brought the whistle to his lips. She slapped it away, grabbing his wrist and throwing him to the side. His cane skittering away from his reach.
"What a thing to add to your record. Killing an old man. Can you live with it? The guilt of killing someone who made you special." he tried desperatly to get up, but the panic in his tone- the sound so unfamiliar and sweet to her ears... was genuine. He had expected her to be slower.
The ring, secured on the end of her hair, shimmered, swinging as a counter weight. To him, in the moonlight, it seemed to whisper death's coming- just as a guillotine before the end does as the prisoner is marched to rest his neck for the last time. The cool air had no comparison for the heat which rose from her. Flashes of the past, the horror, the screams, the fear- they all now seemed to be only that... flashes, memories... the voice of the damned and the lost calling all for one thing- the death of the madman who once held them.
"You don't have the heart. You'll wake up covered in blood and scared with no one but yourself." he struggled to his feet, struggled to the railing beside him, "You don't have power. You can't redeem your sins or save those who've fallen for the conquest of knowledge."
She walked to him, her long slender fingers wrapping around his throat, his eyes going wider with fear as her expression softened and her grip tightened, "Now I lay you down to sleep,"
"Rethink this, Melantha." he gasped, begging with a forced breath, his hands clawing at hers.
I pray Apollyon your soul to keep, her tone remained soft, as if she was truly praying him to sleep.
"You don't have to do this... let me live." His eyes began to grow red, trembling, his desperation growing in his voice.
and if you're alive when I awake- her voice didn't tremor as the darkness drew into it- a small smile on her lips.
"Melantha,without... me you'll never know... where you belong." he struggled less, his hands slowly remaining on hers, his eyes moving to the stars, around his lips tinges of blue began to appear, his eyes bloodshot- he tried only now to stare at the sky.
Pray Adonai your soul to take." she didn't release- only drew closer, over him- she stood over the fallen man as her grip increased only more.
"Let.... me...live...." he gasped once more as his chest failed to raise once more. She released him, watching him as he sat propped against the wall.
A flash of moonlight, a small line appeared across his neck and crimson flowed freely. As freely as the souls of those bound to his existence now fled. She watched every last bit pool and flow around his fallen frame.
His once life filled eyes had milked over, she closed the lids and spoke only one word.
"Amen".
Turning, she ran- leaping over the edge of the bridge and disappeared.
----------------------------------
Ice surrounded her being, no air was close, violet eyes stared helplessly towards where the moon belonged, where the sun reigned.
How had she gotten here. How had she become covered in so much sin and horror. Numbness filtering though her veins, she watched the clouded crimson spread through the murky water.
It has never been clear. The purpose- her purpose.. it had been met. She was free...free from what- is the correct question. Their blood was lifting front her skin as her own began to freeze. Her eyes slowly began to close- it could be over. No more memories, no more trauma, no more pain, no more lost friends, no more anything. Just darkness, just silence, just quiet- only death.
---------------------------
But this is not the end. It's never the end.
"C'mon, Miss, wake up!"
Pressure on her chest, warm air traveled through closed airways- she gagged. Long lashes fluttering over violet eyes. Slowly she coughed river from her lungs- her savior sitting back and sighing with relief.
"Oh man, I thought you were dead!"
Turning her head towards him, she studied the face- it was kind and worried, a deal older than the voice gave away, she gave him a small smile, "Thank you."
"No- no problem...sorry about your hair though,, had to cut it from the tree roots... you're really lucky, Miss."
Shestood, bones and body aching, her lungs on fire and feet unsteady. Her savior on his feet and quick to steady her.
"Should you be standing? I should take you to the hospital, it can't be healthy to have been in the river water- let alone to be up from nearly drowing."
She only gave him half an ear, her eyes studying this world of black,white and gray seeming familiar and safe. She was back to where she should have been. But this time... something felt different, better... she felt alive and no longer hollow.
She hugged the man and walked away, her left hand in her hair... now shorter than shoulder length and oddly cut.
"I'm alive."
