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AUTHOR'S FOREWORD:
Well guys... It's been a long haul. Would've been nice to have finished TSoK, but after having worked on it for three years with little progress in the last year, I think it's finally time to stick a fork in it.
Why stop now? What about the trilogy?
Times change, folks. People change with them. In a way, I'm glad to say that sentiment applies to me; at the same time, there's certain aspects of my former self that I miss. Getting old sucks, and you don't have to be a geriatric to notice how the passage of life affects you. That said, getting old has its perks; because of my advanced age, I can actually manage to do this and still sleep at night.
This is far from the first project I've cancelled midway into production; those of you who've stuck around since that cringy piece of smut, Splitting Horizons, know what a bitch I can be when my conscience finally catches up to me.
Long story sold short: I'm dissatisfied with TSoK. Yes, there are numerous elements (namely the characters) that I adore, and parts of the story that I still can't believe came out of me (The end of Book 1's Chapter 2 comes to mind; it was a roller coaster with a sucker punch finish for me as well).
But TSoK is poorly written; numerous flaws in both development and execution have come back to haunt me (remember how I kept a tally of how many F-bombs had been dropped in the narrative? Yeah, real proud moment for me there), and ultimately some earlier stylistic choices damned the later production.
I know that I can write far more succinctly now, while still retaining the elements of depth and vision that I pride myself in. I have a better grasp on how to handle dialogue, a more robust vernacular, and more perspective of which to write from.
Like I said, people change. When I penned the prologue for TSoK's Book 1 three years ago, I thought it was the greatest thing ever. Now I know better, and I've come to temper my expectations with that cold truth.
Could I rewrite TSoK? The answer is a definite yes. Will I rewrite TSoK? The answer is a definite no.
It really is too big, and there's no way I'm going to put myself through the stress of chopping it up and rewriting it all. Beyond that though? There's really no incentive for me to go through all that work. Despite my reservations regarding the quality of my earlier works; I intend to keep the original story posted as is. Shameful as some of my past literary ventures have been (I'm looking at you, Splitting Horizons), I've always valued them as milestones; a record of where I started from, where I went, and what came out of it.
I don't tThe Saga of Kings, BooK 1 Final Excerptshink that I'll be posting any new stories or updates to pre-existing stories on this site; I spent my time here, and I don't regret a minute of it (Cough... maybe I regret some of it...), but it's high time for me to move on. I've already compiled the foundations for my transition to exclusively writing original fiction; I'm confidant enough in my skills to pursue that avenue now.
If you're remotely curious as to my whereabouts and activities, just google my pen name. Bizarrely, my written works (even the original ones) seem to get more online hits than than the phrase "vile slanders", so according to a google algorithm, I am the original "vile slanders". Whooptifuckingdo, amirite?
Thanks to all my readers for taking a ride with me. I gotta say, it was good running with you.
Goodbye Zane. Goodbye Theron. Can't wait to resurrect you both for an original piece.
PS: Oh yeah. I had a bunch of unreleased (yet somewhat presentable) material related to TSoK. I will summarily and unceremoniously dump them all here, in hopes that it brings you some closure.
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"...Noster Viperarum Meus Salvabit Te De Serpentes..."
Translation: "...Our vipers will save you from the adders..."
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The Saga of Kings, Book I: Hero
Written by,
Vile M.F. Slanders
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"Nothing is so dangerous to the progress of the human mind than to assume that our views of science are ultimate, that there are no mysteries in nature, that our triumphs are complete and that there are no new worlds to conquer."
-Sir Humphry Davy, 1st Baronet. Born in Penzance Cornwall England December 17th, 1778 AD. Died in Geneva Switzerland May 29th, 1829 AD. Pioneer of Electrochemistry. Man of both science and poetry.
Chapter XI: Of Gilgamesh and Enkidu
"I could have sworn I told the Director that this facility wasn't kitted for the detail…"
"I know that this has arrived on short notice-"
"-I could have sworn I specifically requested that the zygote be delivered to Waterloo's Genomic Development facility…"
"ACE apologizes for any inconvenience-"
"-You know, I could have sworn I informed the Director that our Saffron Marketing Branch didn't even have an amniotic lab when he mentioned using this facility…"
"Mister Davinci! Please-!"
"-Oh crap! Tenacious, cut it out!"
"...Dear God…"
"Sorry about that. Tenacious doesn't handle his frustrations very well. Don't worry, he wasn't gonna eat you. I raised him better than that."
"...I'm relieved to hear it-"
"-Tenacious still might try to maul you, but even if he does, I can convince him to spit you out. More or less intact."
"...Um…"
"Alive though? I can't give you a guarantee on that. Those tusks of his may be chipped to all hell, but that just makes the lacerations they inflict all the more difficult to treat."
"...M-mister Davinci-?"
"Okay, knock it off, Tenacious. He didn't bring a change of shorts with him, so go salivate on someone else."
"...Um… s-someone…? Anyone…? H-help-?"
"...Tenacious…"
"..."
"Gawdamnit, you stupid fucking dragon. Go chew on a Qwilfish or something. Get outta here!"
"..."
"Go on! Get!"
"..."
"Heh. He's such a little rascal, ain't he?"
"...Y-yes… qu-quite th-the-"
"-Well enough about my ornery firstborn! We haven't even been introduced! I'm Enzo Davinci! How do you do?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...I love these awkward moments. They always provide an excellent excuse to indulge in some good old fashioned self-conscious self-reflection. Wouldn't you agree, Agent?"
"...Mister Davinci, if we may skip the formalities and proceed directly to business-"
"-Nice to meet you too, Agent Rude! Yes! Business! Of course! Why don't we start with: WHAT THE HELL IS ACE THINKING, BRINGING THE GAWDAMN ZYGOTE HERE?!"
"I can assure you, Mister Davinci, this facility is ideal for the zygote's security-"
"Are you kidding me?! Who thought that an urbanized sales firm would be a secure location for nurturing a highly unstable genetic analogue?!"
"The Director authorized the zygote's delivery to this facility himself. He deemed it necessary, in order to limit the possible security breaches-"
"Oh, that explains everything! Only a bureaucrat would think that cutting miles out of his dispatch justifies delivering his package to the WRONG FUCKING FACILITY!"
"..."
"...Sorry about that. It's just that all of this is kind of… inconvenient."
"ACE understands that this facility was not designed to house such sensitive projects, but due to its location, and its established civilian front for settling Waterloo's discretional-"
"-Ah-ah-ah! Don't talk about that!"
"...We are in a secure location, are we not?"
"Yeah, but I didn't want you to spoil the surprise…"
"What surprise-?"
"-Holy shit! Enzo, did you really transfer me here for the Djinni Project?!"
"...No, Cameron. That was a ruse. I promoted you to the Development Committee's Chapter Director. But I didn't want to tell you until after we had settled the Military's requisition for addition Saboteurs. I wanted you to start off with a clean plate, you know? No need for you to pick up someone else's mess-"
"Wait a minute! I'm the Chapter Director of-!"
"No, Gottlieb! You were the Chapter Director! I fired your ass two weeks ago! But you weren't supposed to know about it, until after you'd fixed your fuck-up in our Mycology Division!"
"..."
"...It was all supposed to be a surprise…"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...This silence has awkward written all over it. Thank you yet again, Agent Rude…"
"...Mister Davinci, if I may? Business?"
"Righto, Agent. Smecker, get on the horn with our Vermilion Breeding Facility. I want their entire amniotic labs uprooted and prepped for air transit by nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Right away, Mister Davinci."
"Julienne, have the local maintenance staff clear out every room on levels B9, B10, and B11. Throw away anything that isn't confidential or valuable, donate everything that's harmless to the Providing for Our Foundlings' Drive, and destroy the rest."
"Yes sir!"
"Susannah, muster our technicians to the basement. I want the bottom three levels rigged to provide enough power to operate an eight-TeV particle collider. I want the entire grid foolproof, and double-down on the backup-power systems. You have until one-o'clock tomorrow evening to make it so."
"Consider it done, Mister Davinci."
"Owen, make a list of all the instruments that the Project Team needs. Once you've compiled and sent the manifest to our other Divisions, I expect to see a fully-functional genomic lab ready for use in the basement by tomorrow evening."
"I'm on it, Mister Davinci."
"Cameron, get upstairs, and get cozy in your new office. Sorry about the day-one catastrophe, but I wouldn't have assigned you the position if I didn't believe that you were the man for the job."
"Thank you, Mister Davinci. I won't let you down."
"Gottlieb, you're on coffee detail until we finish terminating your employment. You're still under martial contract, so don't even think about doing something stupid. Regardless of your history with Waterloo, you are still accountable to corporal oath. There's far worse punishments for dereliction of duty than employment termination, Gottlieb. Am I right, Agent Rude?"
"ACE will prepare the necessary confidentiality documentation for Doctor Joseph Gottlieb. Your final debriefing will be held eleven-hundred hours tomorrow, this location. And I take my coffee black, Doctor Gottlieb."
"Agent Rude is such a great alias for you, you know that?"
"...Thank you, Mister Davinci."
"So where were we? -Oh yeah! That's right! Business!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"My name is Enzo Davinci! Pleased to meet you!"
"The pleasure is all mine, Mister Davinci."
…
I got a fire going around sunrise. I couldn't get a wink of sleep after what had happened last night, so I called it quits and set about cooking breakfast for myself around sunrise.
And little sooner after I had a pot of water boiling for mud, his bedraggled highness dragged himself out of his sleeping dragon's wings, and settled himself down on the opposite end of my fire.
I'd seen several different faces of Theron. I'd seen his pleasant side. I'd seen his menacing side. I'd seen, and lived through, his angry side. I had even seen Theron's friendly side before, but the face that greeted me this morning was one that I would never have expected to see on the Eidolon King.
Theron didn't look like a future King of Kalos. Theron didn't even look like a prim and proper Kalosian.
Theron looked like a haunted husk, with those dead eyes of his just staring into the coals of my fire, completely blind to the light that the embers radiated.
Unkempt. Worried. Hollow. Broken.
-Lost.
I wasn't sitting across from the Eidolon King.
I was sitting across from the man who had become the Eidolon King.
I was looking right at Theron when he was at his most vulnerable.
...And I couldn't even wrap my head around this impossible scene.
Theron didn't say a word. He wasn't even breathing as far as I could tell. He just stared on and endlessly on into the glowing embers, without displaying any hint of hope in finding whatever it was he was looking for.
The morning's first cup of mud found its way from my hands and into Theron's, as the Devil of Kalos wordlessly accepted my offering. Clutching at my tin as though he were trying to sap every BTU of heat from the cooling java, Theron's miserable demeanor didn't change the slightest as I set about cooking my MRE.
"...It's comical, isn't it?" Theron whispered as I dropped a permeable plastic bag of dehydrated eggs into a pot of boiling water. I looked up from my breakfast, to see Theron smiling rudely at himself, even as his eyes refused to shift from their vacant search through the flames.
"...The Devil of Kalos, reduced to a whimpering babe by a nightmare?" Theron snorted, and slowly shook his head, yet those naked grey eyes never wavered from their contact with the fire's core.
"...So you're human. Get over yourself." I grunted, not entirely comfortable with the heading of this conversation.
"...Thankfully yes. I am still human…" Theron murmured to himself with a slight chuckle, and drew his very first sip of instant coffee without even hacking on the acidic beverage.
"...Is your dragon gonna try to kill me when she wakes up?" I grunted, trying to steer this awkward silence into more pleasant grounds. Theron just laughed, and settled back into the Prague's dirt, before prying his hollow eyes from the fire to look over towards the slumbering Grigori with a fond smile.
"If I know my dear Grigori, Zane… You are going to be the least of her concerns when she rises. Sorry to deflate your ego." Theron was beginning to lighten up, and for some unbeknownst reason, I found myself chuckling along with him.
"In the event that you're wrong, restrain her long enough for me to finish breakfast. So long as I die with a hot meal in me, I can go to my grave a happy man." That statement of mine was made with the most innocuous of intentions, but it quickly darkened Theron's uplifting mood.
"...I am truly happy that is all it takes to secure your peace, Ranger…" Theron gazed into the flames again, and his fledgling smile faded away even faster than my patience.
"For God's sake, Theron… What is it with you and death?" I growled, chucking aside my prepary utensil, and glaring rank disgust right at the Eidolon King's miserable visage. It was a while before Theron could find the nerve to answer me, but when he did, he posed his response with a frail question.
"...What do you know about death, Zane?"
I stared long and hard at TH, trying to figure out the angle of his query.
I was a goddamn veteran Ranger who had seen no shortage of death in his three years of service, and Theron knew it. If anyone else had asked me that question, I would have bitten their fucking heads off with the straight answer.
"...I know that it ain't pretty, and I know that it ain't dignified. But I also know that it's inevitable, and I ain't gonna waste my finite life moping about my own expiration." I growled at Theron, offering him my unshakable resolve as an answer. Theron just swelled with the breath of a silent sigh, and took another sip of my coffee.
"...Sage advice, Zane. You are truly a wiser man than I, for I cannot shake the dread of what awaits me in the Distortion…" Theron shuddered his praise of me, and I could only stare at him with a new sense of profanity.
"...So you don't want to become a ghost?" I grunted, forfeiting a potential argument in favor of meeting Theron on his ethical terms.
"...Why would anyone desire the fate of a vile sadist, whose only salve for damnation is the hopeless lamentations of its victims?" Theron whispered, visibly withdrawing into himself.
"...You know I still call bullshit on your whole apotheosis, right?" I grumbled, not really prepared to answer Theron's latest of questions. Theron shuddered on an intake of breath, and sank even further into his own shadow.
"...Zane… I grow weary of repeating myself. It is not a belief. I do not cling to some fantastical religion. I believe very much the same that you do, but I know of a hell reserved specifically for Channelers. This one life is all I have, same as you. Yet unlike you, I am not ensured peaceful oblivion at my life's end…"
Theron was that close to crying. I could see the rims of his eyes beginning to water. I couldn't even fathom what manner of conflict Theron was fighting at that moment. It seemed alien to me, when a passing thought suggested that this dread of his was constant, that there was no solace from this fear.
Theron was convinced that he was going to hell, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do to prevent it.
"So how do you live?" I asked, my voice implying a challenge. Theron's grey eyes left the dying embers of my fire and met my dodging gaze with a start.
"Why don't you just get it over with? Move on to the real deal, rather than wasting away in the kiddy pool?" I asked, my voice no more derisive than was necessary.
"...Because there is a purpose that I have committed myself to. A purpose worth suffering this wretched life for." Theron answered me with the day's first portrayal of decisiveness.
"Again with the whole predestination bullshit. Don't you have something-"
"-Thank you, Zane. I appreciate your council." Theron shut me down with an obstinate, yet polite, interjection.
"...And thank you for the coffee. I'm afraid I may require it for the road ahead." Theron murmured, downing the last of his joe with a single gulp.
"We don't have to start rolling out anytime soon. You can get some sleep, if you need to." I grunted, as I tucked into a soggy bag of lukewarm eggs.
"No. We must make for Lavender Town with all due haste. The Lavender Field is ripe with the imprints of forlorn spirits. The sooner I can deter my wraiths' attentions from me and onto the departed dead of ages past…" Theron shuddered near the end of that morbid announcement. I know that serving as the lifetime cookie jar for a host of Ghosts takes its toll on a Channeler, but even so, goddamn…
-Forlorn spirits of the departed dead from ages past?
Nihilistic romanticism at its worst.
"Are you planning to supercharge your Ghosts in the Lavender Field?" I voiced a sudden suspicion, and Theron confirmed it with a jerky nod.
"Doesn't the local Channeler community take offense to that practice?" I asked.
"To hell with those religious mongrels. Better for Exodus to consume the woes of the dead and the damned, rather than the sorrows of the quick and condemned." Theron spat.
…
"Then how exactly does your vision work?" I growled, skepticism obvious in my voice. Theron sighed, and ceased his gait; drawing our progression through the grey-lit dark to a halt.
"I don't care if you believe me… But if you are truly curious as to the nature of mine eyes, then I will divulge the information as best as I can." Theron whispered.
"...How do you see the world, Zane?" Theron asked.
"In color, depth, and motion." I grunted.
"A simplification, but accurate. Allow me to explicate: would you agree that you perceive the world in three dimensions?" Theron rephrased.
"No shit." I replied.
"...I do not see this world in three dimensions. My sight goes beyond the world that you perceive."
I rumbled with an intake of breath, more disappointed than frustrated with Theron's claim.
"You think I speak in vanity, yet you know not burden of this sight..." Theron muttered in his own disappointed tone.
"Then don't over simplify it into some flowery hogwash. If you want to wow me with quantum mechanics, then wow me with quantum mechanics." I growled. Theron sighed in resignation, and bowed his head against the encroaching vacillation.
"I see the influence of time on matter, and of matter's influence on time; I see decay and causality, similar to how you see depth and motion. To these eyes, the past and the future are not obfuscations; they are results, whose formulas are dictated by the sequences of the present." Theron grimly faced me and my skepticism, determined to relate his quandary.
"That don't make sense. The past already happened. History is the dead precursor to the newborn now. How can the past be influenced by the present?" I sneered, challenging the obvious flaw in Theron's explanation.
"Dissuade yourself of a concrete timeline, Zane. Entertain the possibility that the record of history was altered by, or obscure to, its contemporary archivists. Now imagine that our understanding of history, our perception of the past, evolves and changes as we come to discover the historical facts previously unrecorded by man. Just because you don't know that something transpired, doesn't mean that such an event never occurred." Theron replied.
"Done." I grunted, shrugging my shoulders.
"...Now think abstractly, Zane. Think. Would understanding more in the present have an effect on your perception of the past?" Theron asked.
"Of course it would. Hindsight isn't called hindsight because-"
"Precisely my point. Now apply that same realization of developing hindsight to its antonym: foresight." Theron hissed.
My silence persisted, as I struggled to conceive of a means to refute Theron's proposal.
But despite my best efforts, I simply couldn't find one.
"...You want to know what I see, Zane? You want to know what I see, quantified to its most basic descriptor?" Theron asked, his voice hoarse.
It took me a moment to realize a means of answering Theron in way that wouldn't jeopardize my dignity. In the end, all I could offer him was a stiff nod.
"...I see mathematics. Equations disguised as material transition; sums hidden within the bifurcation of possibility. I see a calculation, compounded by innumerable factors; all converging into a single immutable phenomenon." Theron replied.
I was rendered speechless.
-Theron saw fucking math?!
"Máthēma: the universal language; exemplary in its conveyance; absolute in its promulgation; spoken by fermions and chronons alike. Máthēma is what I see, biased by an organic perception. The rot is transition; the dark is variables. And everything within this universe is subject to both the rot and the dark." Theron whispered, his voice growing faint.
"...You don't seriously believe-"
"I told you before, I don't care if you believe me! I've wasted enough of my life attempting to convince skeptics of my vision! But you requested an explanation, and I have duly provided you with one. Make of it what you will. I don't require your acceptance; I just need you to realize the gravity of our circumstance." Theron spat, striding off into the writhing dark, fuming in helpless anger.
I may not have been able to accept Theron's explanation of his visions, but for some reason, the insight it offered gave me a means to understand him.
"...You're alone, aren't you, Theron?"
Theron came to a dead stop, and Thanatos's grey soulfire dimmed.
"...Yet despite your solitude, you still press on, because you're afraid of something; something that you feel only you can see."
I could see Theron shaking further down the tunnel. His fists were balled, his shoulders and neck were clenched tightly, and his head trembling upon its trunk.
...And I could hear the small, frail, barely discernable gasps of breath as Theron did all he could to hide his sobs from me.
"Maybe I don't see what you see. Maybe I refuse to believe in what you believe. But I know that feeling, Theron. Why do you think I fight for a world that ridicules me?" I spat through gnashing teeth.
"...And that is why you and I are damned, Zane. Even should we prove victorious in our struggle… you and I are forever damned to be alone…" Theron wept to the darkness, wept to the inanimate earth.
Wept to me, his adversary.
Wept for the cost of our convictions.
"It's worth it." I rumbled with a decisive breath.
A short peal of laughter sounded from the Eidolon King, and Theron's shoulders rose and fell in the cadence of his silent chuckle.
"...Yes… It most certainly is…" Theron laughed into the void of the Kobold mountains, a tinge of relief audible in his watery tone.
"...I am glad to have met you, Zane. If for nothing else, then for this single instance… I am happy to have known you…" Theron whispered, turning to me with the first true smile I'd ever seen upon his face.
I knew that smile. I had felt that same saddened expression on my face a spartan number of times.
It was my smile; the smile I only expressed in true empathy.
It was the only true smile that I was capable of.
…
"Alright, Cortez. You ready for your walk?" I asked my shedding monster of a hound.
"Are you serious?!" Melissa hissed from behind.
"Just bear with me, Melissa. I'll explain soon enough." I kept my voice casual when I addressed the fuming widow.
"Let's walk into the breeze, okay Cortez? See if we can't lose some of those whiskers you're sprouting…" I declared as I leaned towards Cortez's neck and proceeded to pluck tufts of loose hair from his knotted mane.
"...And while you're at it, see if you can sniff out any spooks that might be tailing us." I whispered into Cortez's ear. My dog gave a low woof, before starting off with a bounce to his step, and a voracious nose whiffing at the air. I turned to Melissa with a cautious look in my eye, checking to see if she'd caught the private order I'd just given Cortez.
Despite her quizzical expression, Melissa gave me a curt nod. That was a yes.
We maintained our silence as we followed the Celadon breeze for for a wayward mile. Only after the capricious wind had blown across us from every direction, did I dare to violate the silence with a question to Cortez.
"...Are we all alone, pooch?"
Cortez lifted his front right paw, and flicked it twice. Affirmative.
"...Okay. Start barking at shadows if something pops up on your radar. Melissa…" I turned to Brenda's widow with a heavy expression plain on my face.
"...What's going on, Zane? Why the hell did you call me out here to talk? Why the hell did I even agree to meet you?! And why the hell are you afraid that someone is following us?!" Melissa spat. I took a long deep breath before I carefully enunciated my reply.
"...Don't take this the wrong way, Melissa… but I need someone to talk to. And as it currently stands? You're the only person I can trust."
…
I told her everything.
In conscious violation of my oath as a Special Operative of the Corps, and in willful violation of my status as an ACE Agent.
I told Melissa absolutely everything.
I should've been amazed that she heard me out. I should've been flabbergasted that she remained silent throughout the entire disclosure. I should've been grateful that she listened to my every spoken word…
...But experiencing all that awe would have to wait for the clarity of hindsight. At the time of the reveal, I could barely keep track of my own thoughts as I spilled both my guts and my knowledge of every dirty secret to Melissa.
"-Maybe I'm crazy for even suggesting it- Scratch that. Maybe I'm actually insane, but something big is coming our way, and everything that's happened up to this point was intentional. Everything. There's just too much coincidence, too many subtle correlations, too much shit that I still don't know… But something big is coming, and somehow, I'm wrapped up in the thick of it..." I had to pause my panicked rant for want of breath, I'd been rambling on and on to the point that my mouth was parched and my head was spinning.
"So let me get this straight…" Melissa capitalized on my sudden silence to voice her scepticism.
"Your mother died seven months ago, and Ranger High Command only informed you about it recently; Echo Squad's mission was accelerated months ahead of what you'd initially been led to expect, and you were never given an explanation as to why; Your mission in the League was authorized barely a month after Echo's fall, while your status as an able-bodied Ranger was still being debated; You're not just a Ranger of the Corps, but also a fucking conscripted ACE spook, and you're on first-name basis with the likely future King of Kalos?" Melissa summarized the last hour and a half with a single statement.
"Didja catch the fishy bit about Cortez's transfer? Or the Snorlax being in the Viridian Forest when they've never once been found that far west?! What about the whole fucking thing Theron hinted at, the whole fucking thing about a gawdamn war?!" I was rattled beyond any concern for dignity regarding my composure.
"Yeah, I caught those bits. I didn't want to say anything about all of that, because it all sounded crazy enough when you said it." Melissa retorted, but a hysterical note had wormed its way past her initial scepticism.
"It is crazy, but that's not the scary part. The scary part is that it's all beginning to make sense…" I managed to whimpered. Despite her reservations, Melissa was still shuddering right beside me.
"...So you're saying that it was all a setup. Brenda's death." Melissa whispered.
"...I don't understand why they'd do something like that. I can't figure out what it would accomplish. But everything that led up to it, and everything that's followed… It all seems engineered…" I swallowed hard, as Melissa's angry eyes met my pleading gaze.
"...And what if I said that this smells like a cop out to me? What if I said that this whole yarn you're feeding me sounds engineered? What if I think that you're lying to me and yourself just to alleviate the guilt?" Melissa spat, and her venom inspired me with an unpleasant calm.
"...Echo died under my command, Melissa. Regardless of whether it was a setup, or an accident, they still died under my command. That's something I'll never forget. That's something I'll never forgive."
Melissa's anger faded when faced with my grim admancy. I wasn't about to lay all the blame on a diabolical theory.
"...Why are you telling me this then? Why risk your life, and mine, spouting ACE secrets to an unaffiliated civilian?" Melissa whispered in a fearful voice.
"Because you deserve to know the truth, Melissa. Because I'm scared witless, and confiding in an unaffiliated civilian is my only hope for establishing clarity. And because, if anyone is going to nail me to a cross, I'd rather it be a person with a damn good justification for seeing me hang." I answered, still miraculously maintaining my weary calm.
"...If ACE did send Brenda to die… Then I want to know why they did it. Now you said that you have no idea what killing Echo would accomplish, and you even said that you don't even know if ACE intended for them to die… but if what you're suggesting is true… Then someone in ACE decided that Echo's demise was worth the risk. And no one ever told Brenda what she was going to be risking as Echo Squad's medic…" Melissa whispered.
"Not just Brenda. Carlos. Erin. Pete. Amber. Me. Not one of us had a clue." My voice seemed devoid of all expression or substance, as I reflected on the immorality behind my first command.
"...We weren't ready for it. I told Colonel Howes as much, when he ordered us into the Long Sway on day three. They were unseasoned Walkouts, not Vets! And I barely had the patience to put up with their inexperience! But they sent us off into the fucking Brink all the same!" I was doing my damndest not to lose my cool, but I could feel my eyes wetting and my knees shaking.
"...And the Snorlax? You think it was a plant? That ACE put it in the Long Sway, knowing that Echo would find it?" Melissa pressed.
"Two things suggest so. One: Cortez was dispatched to the Ranger Corps, after the Military had taken illegal repossession of him. One of the most decorated Hunter-Killers in the service, being delivered to me on the first day of my command? How could a Growlithe as good as Cortez miss the scent of a bloody Snorlax in the windswept plains of the Long Sway? And how many other dogs would've stayed by their CO's side during the chase that followed? Cortez showed himself to be a martyr in Fuchsia, and I wouldn't put it past ACE to expect a repeat performance in Viridian." I looked over at my magnificent hound, and saw the stoic soldier crumbling in those mismatched eyes of his.
"...And your second suspicion?" Melissa dared breach the new silence with a bold question.
And I would give her the shady truth.
"Blackhat Team Seven's ETA to our Blackhandle. I should've been suspicious the instant Colonel Howes affirmed eighteen minutes. I don't why it took me so long to look up their mission log for that day. It would've taken them over two hours to get from Cerulean HQ to Viridian Forest. Guess it's a good thing they had a priority order from High Command to standby in Lune with the their dicks in hands that day, huh?" I actually laughed when I hit the punchline, though the insinuation was anything but funny.
Melissa froze solid.
"...They had orders to ignore all other hails, and to standby for High Command's direct authorization to act. It wasn't a coincidence that they were within eighteen minutes of the Long Sway. Just like the Snorlax, Blackhat Team Seven was planted to play their part in the following drama." I whispered, and Melissa's jaw dropped.
To say that my last piece of evidence sounded suspicious would've been an understatement. To acknowledge it as borderline damning was far more befitting.
"...But why?" Melissa whispered in a weak voice, when desperation for an answer had finally overcome the shock.
"...I don't know. That's the part that doesn't add up. If ACE wanted me in the League, then why didn't they just put me there?! Why did they have to send Echo on a suicide mission first?!" I hissed, clenching my shaking hands into white-knuckled fists.
"...You said you didn't want anything to do with the League, didn't you?" Melissa murmured in an undertone.
"If I ever wanted to compete in the stupid fucking League, I would've had daddy dearest bankroll my way in. I didn't put a beret on my head to play pussy-footed games in the-" I would've continued spitting venom, but Melissa cut me off.
"...Maybe they killed Brenda and put you through hell, just so you wouldn't have any other alternative to keep a beret on your head." Melissa whispered.
That shut my spiel up cold and fast.
"...No. That's low. Even for ACE-" I began, but then my rationality overrode my denial, and I couldn't keep going. This was ACE. These were the same people who had allied with the Devil of Kalos himself. ACE didn't plan to preserve morality in their operations. They didn't value human life, or respect the sanctity of the self. Ethics was only practiced in ACE's PR department, because ACE official only cared about the mission success.
"...Think about it, Zane. Your mother was dead well before you even accepted command of Echo Squad. You've confirmed that ACE was responsible for withholding the disclosure of that information. If ACE has been setting you up, then it sounds like they started planning for Echo's mission months in advance."
My God, Melissa couldn't have said anything more horrifying. I was locked up and frozen stiff where I stood, my disbelieving eyes revealing all of the hopelessness that had formed a cold vacuum within me.
"...Zane-?" Melissa choked out as I fell on my rump with my head in my hands.
"No… No, it can't be…" I whimpered to myself. Cortez settled down behind me, pressing his warm bulk into my back as a means of support.
"...No one would do that… No one would kill- would kill them… just for that…" I let the tears fall freely into my lap. I couldn't care less about maintaining appearances. It was too horrifying to accept, but just like everything else leading up to this revelation…
...It made perfect sense…
When I finally exhausted my emotions, and pulled my weary self over that ledge again, I discovered that it wasn't just Cortez offering me support.
My head was in Melissa's lap, and Brenda's widow was softly hushing me as she caressed the side of my face.
I will admit, it was with a certain reluctance that I pulled myself out of that comforting cradle. But when I rose back into a sitting position, it was with the same tired dignity that I had fought so hard to maintain since the Snorlax's mastication of me.
"...If ACE actually murdered them for something as shallow as that…" A cold tone of finality had found its way into my voice.
-Forget due process. Forget fair trials. I would kill the individuals responsible. That was my only recourse.
That was the only recourse.
"...And this thing with Theron and the League? This whole, batshit insane stunt being pulled by the Eidolon King and ACE? What role do you play in it?" Melissa pressed.
"...I don't know the definitive answer to that either, but there's a few things I do know for certain. ACE is trying to empower the Ranger Corps. For what purpose I'm not entirely sure, but they definitely want me on the Throne for the benefit of the Corps. In this particular regard, Theron is in the same vote as ACE, but I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that his agenda diverges from ACE's in the endgame." My numb demeanor gave way to brooding, as I pondered the possibilities yet again.
"ACE wants me on the League Throne, but Theron expects something more of me. I won't pretend to know what Theron's goal really is, but he's made this much perfectly clear: Theron thinks that I'm above the position of League Champion." I grumble as I ruminated on every meaningful line the Eidolon King had uttered since our first encounter.
"...Theron is grooming me into a role that ACE never intended for me to play. I don't know if this makes him my ally; or a potentially greater threat than ACE, but Theron is playing ACE, the Concordant, and me for his own enigmatic purposes. Until I can establish his motivation, I'm going to continue regarding Theron as an enemy." I hissed. Melissa made a peculiar noise, and I shot her a look.
"...It's… Well, it's odd, hearing you call Theron an enemy. Some of the things you said about him earlier… made it sound like you two were friends." Melissa stated in a self-conscious tone.
"Yeah. I might have thought the same damn thing not so long ago too." I stated in a dry voice. Melissa quirked an eyebrow, before voicing her next question.
"...What happened?" Melissa asked in a soft voice. I just snorted.
"Between me and Theron? Oh, we just had a slight disagreement in Lavender Town a few days back." I feigned a chuckle, but the anger in my voice masked any casual attempt at diversion.
"What-?" Melissa began, but I cut her off with a straightforward answer.
"-Theron murdered an eight-year old girl for God only knows what insane reason, and I told him that I was gonna kill him for it." My reply was as blunt and as decisive as I could phrase it. Melissa covered her mouth in horror, and stared at my furiously stewing self in wide-eyed disbelief.
"He really had me going, you know? Damn near pulled the wool over my eyes. A Channeler with a conscience? I should've known better. No, Looker was absolutely right. There ain't nothing human in TH. Everything he says or does contrary to being a devil is just a fucking act. Only one good thing came of him murdering Amy: I know better than to trust him now." I spat, cracking my knuckles with a solemn oath.
"...And his fiancée? She just popped up in Celadon, right out of the blue?" Melissa asked.
"Apparently Valerie has been spending the last couple of months looking for Theron, ever since she escaped from Ruling House Arturia's custody. Thanks to the news footage following my Vermilion Gym match, Valerie found out that Theron was tagging along with me, and that we were headed for Celadon next. So she decided to set up camp, and waited for us here. Practically bumped into me at a diner this morning, and then suckered me into entreating with TH on her behalf. Quite the feat for a blind girl." I grumbled.
"It sounds like you don't get along with her." Melissa stated.
"...She's completely loyal to Theron. Why would I trust her anymore than him?" I grumbled, but even my own biased ears could detect the insincerity present in my voice.
"...More to it than that?" Melissa petitioned.
"...She's a gawdamn Kalosian Fairy-Trainer, and you can tell just by looking at her that she's about ready to keel over and die. And yet, heartless fucking Theron can't take his freaky fucking eyes off her. Or arms." I added with a growl.
"Like in a rapey way, or do you mean-?" Melissa began, but I wasn't gonna let her finish. I wouldn't stand to hear that sacred sentiment being associated with Theron Motherfucking Halcyon.
"-Theron ain't capable of love! I don't know why he's so protective of Valerie, but it has nothing to do with affection!" I spat, and slammed my knuckles into the ground.
"...What if you're wrong?" Melissa dared to propose.
My passionate glare would've left any other human being fearing for their wellbeing, but Melissa was made of sterner stuff than most people.
As unfathomable as the assertion sounds, this women is even tougher than me.
"Do you even know what Channeling does to a human being, Zane?" Melissa met my cold blooded eyes with her resolute ones, reminding me that even when I was at my rawest, I couldn't scare her in the least.
"Turns them into a fucking devil?" I spat my reply with a tone of finality, but I didn't get to say when this discussion was over.
"...Not quite. Do you think that their Ghosts would still be able to feed off them, if Channelers couldn't distinguish between their own positive and negative emotions?" Melissa asked.
"Just shut up, Melissa." I grunted.
"You know that I'm right. Deep down, you know that you still care about Theron. He may have betrayed your trust, but demonizing-"
"Listen to you! You have no idea what it's like defending a fucking devil, only for him to stab you in the back the very next fucking day! You no have idea how easily Theron gets inside your fucking head! How he twists and manipulates the very things you hold most sacred against you! How he presents himself to you, seemingly frightened and alone! You have no fucking idea what it's like-!"
"-I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Melissa cut my tirade off with a wounded hiss. After that revelation, I couldn't find it in me to continue. The parallel Melissa had drawn between the two of us ran too deep for me to deny.
That, and the budding of hot tears in Melissa's blue eyes brought me to a self-conscious standstill.
To Melissa, I was Zane Bastard. The man who had taken command of her late wife's fate. The man, who had professed to love Brenda like he loved no other woman. The man who had seen Brenda's safety as his own personal mission.
The man who had lived, while Brenda had died.
...As painful as it was to acknowledge, more so at this moment than any moment prior, I was Melissa's own personal devil, who played with her heart in ways both enticing and profane.
I was the Theron in this confusing and unhealthy relationship.
...And everything I had shared with Melissa tonight, had only served to ease Melissa past her reluctance of exposing her most vulnerable self to her own personal devil.
The fact that Melissa could bring herself to trust Zane Bastard stunned me with a surreal sentiment.
...The fact that she could be so quick to forgive her devil filled me with an intense self-loathing.
"You don't mean that, Melissa." I grumbled, sidling away from her.
"Why not?" Melissa asked, more angry with my rejection than wounded by it.
"...I'm a monster in my own right. I don't deserve to be forgiven, just like Brenda didn't deserve what happened." I mumbled off into the growing night.
"...Fuck you, Zane." Melissa hissed in an undertone.
"It's for your own fucking good!" I spat right back at her.
"Bullshit! You're just trying to martyr yourself for your own fucking convictions! You don't want to be forgiven, because if you accept that I can forgive you, then you run the risk of forgiving Theron-"
"-WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BRINGING HIM INTO THIS?!" I roared over Melissa, silencing her for a but a moment while I collected my ragged breath.
"...Because, regardless of what he did, you still think that you can save him." Melissa whispered, and by the fresh tears falling from her eyes, Melissa betrayed her own reasoning for forgiving me.
It took me a moment to overcome the shock inspired by her admission, but when I did, I conjured up enough sense of self to dash her benevolent intents with a heartfelt admission of my own.
"...Look at me, Melissa." I mumbled, stationing the rising anger behind a facsimile of calm. Melissa could barely lift her head following that shameful confession, but she struggled to meet my unmoved gaze with her grieving eyes.
"I'm broken, Melissa. I'll always be broken. There's nothing left in this body worth saving. There's nothing left of who I was. All I am is a hatred. All I have left is rage." I used that hidden anger, I drew it into my convictions, and used those convictions to vocalize my words with the most impartial of voices humanly possible. Melissa had been right about one thing.
I hated Theron, because I hated myself.
And even if... No. Especially if it meant claiming some measure of solace from my greatest sin, I couldn't bring myself to be a hypocrite.
What made hating Theron all the more painful, was that I didn't want to hate him.
...But for the sake of my own warped sense of morality, I had to hate Theron.
So I wasn't going to let Melissa violate that need, and take my guilt away.
"...I don't believe you." Melissa whispered.
"I hurt people, Melissa. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead or destroyed. Every person I've ever cared about-" I cursed myself for the thoughtless phrasing.
"-You should hate me, because we'll both be happier if you do." I glared off into the darkening day, refusing to meet Melissa's eyes any longer.
"I can hate that you're a stubborn jackass, but I can still relish the challenge of getting through your thick skull." Melissa growled past gritted teeth.
"Stubborn? Coming from you?" I snorted in derision, but Melissa just laughed it off.
"It's kind of funny, you saying that. Brenda was always the level-headed one…" Melissa may have sniffled a bit, and raised a palm to dry the corners of her eyes; but her sad smile still managed to endure the memory.
"...That girl knew how to keep me on a short lease. Every time I started to lose my temper, she always found a way to calm me down." Melissa loosened a watery giggle.
"...How did you two meet?" I asked in a soften voice, and Melissa shuddered on a deep breath.
"...Med-school. Brenda and I attended the same para-kingdom biology class." Melissa murmured.
"...So how did you two meet?" I pressed, a lewd grin lifting the corner of one cheek.
Melissa punched me in throat for it.
"I don't kiss and tell." Melissa smirked, as I choked on my own windpipe.
"...Shit. What a tired old cock tease." I tossed a cheesy smile at Melissa.
"Well a cock tease is the best you could hope from me, so you can cut the charming bullshit out now." Melissa's voice went cold.
"No worries. I know better than to try and charm an Ursaring." I grunted, earning another punch from Melissa. This one was suspiciously aimed at my inner thigh.
"...I remember when Brenda told me that she had gotten married. Gave me the worst case of blue balls when she announced it too." I said, following my own fond memory of Brenda with a sigh. Melissa started laughing.
"I knew that you two had a thing before... before I opened up to Brenda. I was actually jealous of you at one point." Melissa chuckled.
"Shit, I was envious of you the instant Brenda flashed me her ring finger. If Brenda had thought to inform me that she'd married another woman sooner, I might've tried my luck at organizing a-"
"-Get fucked, you lecherous git!" A half scandalized, half flattered blond haired beauty punched me square in the crotch for going as far as that. Thank goodness my pride could adequately cover the family jewels, otherwise I might've been nursing a sore spot after Melissa's latest attempt at battery.
"...But that's all moot. Brenda made her choice, and I gotta say, she made the better of two choices." I managed a halfhearted smile at Melissa, but Brenda's widow looked away from my mixed gesture of grief and joy.
"...I couldn't believe it when she took me up on the first date. I thought for sure she was… Well, after hearing what she had to say about you…" Melissa murmured more to herself than to me.
"Kinda surprised me too, when I found out. I knew that Brenda had a big heart, but-" I began on an awkward note.
"-You didn't know that she was bi?" Melissa finished for me, without a hint of embarrassment.
"...She didn't really let on, if you get my meaning." I respectfully admitted.
"Did you think less of her when you found out?" Melissa asked in a quiet voice.
"Of course not. When she did tell me that she was bi, all I heard was: you got a second chance, Zane-"
"-Do I have to hit you again, or are you finally going to remember that Brenda was my wife?" Melissa growled.
"I'm just saying that it was relieving, not disturbing. But when I saw your wedding photo, all thoughts of a threesome just kinda slipped my mind." I settled back into Cortez's mane, and looked straight up at the horizon cast between the sleepy day and the waking night. The star-dappled blue was merging with the fire-pink clouds of summer's late sunsets, as the orange rays of the fattening sun burst on the seam between the land's canopied end and the heaven's prismatic beginning.
"Why was that?" Melissa murmured, her eyes following mine to drink in the same sky that I saw.
"...You both looked so happy." I murmured, prematurely breaking off my gaze with the solstice afflicted skies.
I could feel Melissa's questioning look on my right side, but I couldn't meet her eyes.
"...I didn't belong in that picture. And I have no shame in accepting that." I answered after an extended pause.
"...So this war? The war that Theron hinted at?" Melissa took the cue, and steered the increasingly awkward conversation into even less comfortable waters.
"The same war that you and I started. Theron's biggest slip, and the one topic he won't touch again with a ten-meter pole." I grumbled.
"...So do you buy it?" Melissa asked in a faint voice.
"Do I believe for so much as a second that Theron is a prophet? Hell no. But can I see that something big and ugly is waiting for us further down the road? You don't have to be clairvoyant to notice that." I sighed.
"What do you think Theron meant, when he mentioned a war?" Melissa pressed.
"Dunno. Could be the Unova fortified Concordant trying to conquer the rest of the world. Could be Fuhrer Adler or even Theron fucking up in the Concordant, and kicking off the start of a World War. Or…" I swallowed hard, rather than voice the other possibility.
"...Or you actually play a part in this war." Melissa finished the theory for me, regardless of whether I wanted to hear it or not.
"...This Operation… This Wounded Hearts Project… It's big. It's huge. I haven't even scratched the surface of what ACE is attempting to pull off." I whispered.
"You said that they're definitely trying to empower the Ranger Corps-" Melissa began.
"-Yeah, but for what reason? And what does establishing a new King in Kalos have to do with securing the future of the Kantonese Ranger Corps?" I grumbled.
"You're certain that those two prerogatives are tied together?" Melissa asked.
"The Black King and the White King. Those are references to chess pieces. Those are ACE's callsigns for two of their prime advocates. Theron is the Black King. I'm supposed to be their fucking White King. And the board we're playing on? ACE calls it Operation: Wounded Hearts. Yeah, it's all connected." I grunted.
"...What if you're wrong about it being a reference to a game of chess?" Melissa asked. I snorted.
"What other board game uses color-coded kings?" I made no secret of my scepticism.
"A lot, I would imagine. Hell, Erika introduced me to xiangqi shortly after I started working at the Celadon Gym." Melissa retorted.
"Zhee-ong-what?" I asked, damn sneezing on the foreign name.
"Xiangqi. Johto's indigenous version of chess." Melissa explained.
"Does it play differently than Kanto's version of chess?" I asked.
"The pieces are different, the board is more complex, and the rules are completely different; but the end goal remains the same: Capture the opposing king." Melissa elaborated.
"Still sounds like chess." I grunted.
"Can you have three players in chess?" Melissa quipped. I shot her an odd look.
"...Explain." I grumbled in a voice that was growing more impatient by the second.
"There's a variant of xiangqi called Sanguo Qi, or the Game of Three Kingdoms. I've only played it once, and I barely understood the rules, but unlike your standard game of chess or xiangqi, Sanguo Qi has three players." Melissa carried on.
"Riveting. Another board game with multiple players all jumping down one another's' throat-" I began on a snide note, but Melissa interjected.
"Conquering the other Kings isn't the only way to win Sanguo Qi. I lost the variant I played when the other two players struck a truce, and allied together to wipe my army off the board. After that, they duked it out for first place. But from what I understood, they could've shared a victory after beating me; or if we all decided to call a truce, we could've all won by forfeiting on the same turn." Melissa explained, and I quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Chess is a strategist's game. Sanguo Qi is both a strategist's and a diplomat's game. Establishing peace between the Three Kingdoms is tantamount to a victory for all."
"...Sounds like an interesting game..." I grumbled.
"Well, if we apply your gameboard logic to Operation: Wounded Hearts, Sanguo Qi makes more sense than chess. Think of it for a moment: in chess, the Black King and the White King are opposed, and a victor is decided when one of the Kings falls to the other. Somehow, I don't see ACE empowering the Kantonese Ranger Corps to fight a war against an ACE sponsored King of Kalos. No matter what angle you try to spin it from: the Kantonese Rangers duking it out with Kalosian Military doesn't have a beneficial, or even sensible, outcome for ACE." Melissa stated.
"...I'll concede that you have a point there, but now answer me this riddle: If Operation Wounded Hearts is actually based on Sanguo Qi instead of chess, then tell me who the third King is?" I countered Melissa's suggestion with an obvious flaw.
"How am I supposed to know? Maybe the third King isn't even-" Melissa began, but I cut her short with a snort.
"ACE pretty much leaked mine and Theron's statuses as Kings during a moment of panty-soiling terror. They never mentioned a third King, and come to think of it, neither has Theron. The reason why neither one of them has mentioned a third King, is because there is no third King." I started chuckling, and Melissa's concern arched one of her perfectly even blonde eyebrows in retort.
"Don't you think that you're dismissing the possibility of a third King a little too readily?" Melissa asked.
"Melissa, stop thinking of it in terms of board games. It's an allusion, not an analogy. Just 'cause mine and Theron's call signs are of opposing colors and position don't mean shit. We're not playing a worldwide game of chess. Reality doesn't conform to board game rules. It's just some dumbass cryptologist's idea of a code. Theron and I are not going to lead a war against one another on any field other than the ideological one. So as much as I'd like to take a crack at wringing his Trevenant infested neck, I'm never gonna get the fucking chance."
…
"I found a boutique and a letter sometime last month. During a visit to your mother."
"...Did you read the letter?"
"Of course I did."
"..."
"...I thought that you'd pushed us away. That you'd taken your anger and hurt out on your mother, when it was me that-"
"-I didn't know. They didn't tell me until…"
"..."
"...I only found out about it last month..."
"...That's what I kind of figured, after having read your apology."
"..."
"...I also saw your match against Misty and Lt. Surge. Saw some of your finer moments, and some of your more shameful ones as well-"
"You don't know me, so stop pretending like you do."
"You're still my-"
"No. I'm not. The sniveling boy you kicked out into the streets is gone. He couldn't cut it. He had to become someone else if he wanted to live."
"...Is that what you believe?"
"Everyday, I see the kind of shit that would keep you up at night. I've bloodied my hands in battlefields whose records would leave you whimpering. I struggle everyday of my life to breath; to walk; to smile; to forget and to remember! I survived a world that you could never cope with, and you're going to talk down to me like I'm still fourteen years old and clueless?"
"...That's not what I'm trying to say-"
"Then say what you have to say, and quit being such a pussy about it!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...I want you to come home."
"Funny."
"You're angry at me, I get it. I deserve it. What I did was inexcusable; unforgivable. I let my frustration get the better of me, and I've regretted it ever since I pushed you away-"
"If that's the case, then why did it take mom dying for you to finally talk to me?"
"...I didn't think that you'd want to hear from me. Not after what I did."
"You weren't wrong."
"...So why are you listening to me now?"
"..."
"..."
"...Because-"
"..."
"...Because I've seen so much loss in the last three years… that I couldn't live with myself for another day if I didn't at least try to save what I have left…"
"..."
"..."
"...I'm sorry, Clarence… I'm sorry…"
"..."
"..."
"...I'm sorry too, dad…"