Cathartik, a guilty gear fanfic

TITLE: Cathartik
AUTHOR: Athena Asamiya (empresskatzy@hotmail.com)
SERIES: Guilty Gear
TYPE: Part 1/1, short Sol focus fic.
RATING: PG-13
WARNING: Dark and a tad disturbing, not much else. ^^;; No Ky, so no yaoi. Darn.
SETTING: Sol's mind. Which is a bad, messed-up place to be. I don't recommend vacationing there.
THEME: "Cathartik" by The Tea Party.
COMMENTS: Well, here we are again, another mildly disturbing snippet that Sol rather rudely injected into my head at 11:03 last night. After being hastily scribbled down in my precious notebook, it only got more and more warped as it went through a second and third revision. X_x;; I have to say, even I was disturbed...but seeing as how this was a probable result of exam-related stress and time budgeting, it's no wonder I came up with something like this. XD Though I think the real meaning behind this short scribble is mainly to show the hell that Sol went through, and to prove that there's a good reason why he's such an angry jerkoff. ^^;; Believe when I say that there is. (And also believe me when I say that it's THE TEA PARTY that's misspelling "cathartic", not me) Have fun, visit heaven.coming.down (http://heaven.morethanart.org), and get hyped -- the release of the Guilty Gear X OVA is only three months away! XD

"The time's come again
It's nearing the end
But I feel no shame
Do you feel the same?
`Cause I know I'll be alright
If I make it through tonight
Well I swear I'll try to change
Once again..."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-( GG )-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Frederick.

The dream always starts the same way.

Just that one word, that one NAME, echoing through every single recess of my mind. It was spoken in a voice I thought I once knew, a long time ago. Trying to reach me. Pleading for me. Calling me. Calling me back.

To the past and mistakes I'd so badly wanted to abandon.

Frederick.

Demons don't dream, do they? I know they don't. I shouldn't. But the dream, though it doesn't come as often as it used to, never seems to completely leave me. It's always THERE, lingering just a little behind my subconscious, so deeply rooted in my memories that it always confuses reality and fantasy. I can never tell where the memories end and the dream begins.

I can only catch bits of my surroundings in the dream - flashing panels of buttons, syringes, test tubes, cold steel walls. There's only ever snatches of sound, other voices talking in muted tones, usually followed by the occasional horrified scream.

Then I realize that the screams are my own.

And it's then that I can feel the cruel metal straps holding me down, the numbingly excruciating pain, and the lights so bright they seem like nothing more than white flourescent blurs that hurt my eyes.

Frederick.

The name is spoken again in the dream, trying to comfort me, trying to keep me grounded to the sanity that seems to be leaving me. It's probably the only clear word I can understand. I can't comprehend much else once I realize the agony I'm going through, the shifting and changing, the pain so great it feels like I'm being torn apart and rebuilt.

Unnatural evolution.

Living dead nightmare.

Frederick.

But the initial pain, the pain I can never block out of the dream, is nothing compared to the torture that always follows. Being captured. Imprisoned. Like a caged animal. Controlled, beaten, injected, restrained, prodded, cut, stripped down to nothing and reformed again.

The dream can always recreate that hell so well. So easily.

Frederick.

The dream never shows faces, only flashes, blurs in the too-bright light. Leaning over me, speaking in words that make no sense, conversing with each other calmly as they -- take notes? Observe me like I'm a rat in a cage. Seeing how I react to different procedures, tests, injections. Nothing more than a test subject. A lab specimen. A guinea pig of humans.

Humans. Humans were the cause of the dream. The cause of my pain.

And I could always feel, above all the agony and the suffering, my hatred for humans. Complete and utter hatred. I wanted to be free. So I could kill the source of my pain and torture.

Kill humans. Kill them all.

Frederick.

The voice of the dream always gets more urgent now, as if trying to remind me of something that I'm forgetting. Something important. But I can't hear much over my own screams, my strangled cries for help, my begging for them to stop. So human, pleading for my life. Weak. And no, I can't understand the voice, can't comprehend, can't breathe, have to get out, get away, get away from the hurt and the needles and the tests and the drugs and the light, the light, oh God oh God it burns I can't see---

Burns. Fire.

A flickering flame lights in my mind. It speaks. The same voice as throughout all the dream, speaking to me, a beacon of guidance and order in the chaos and insanity. It was calling that name. My name.

Frederick.

.......what do you want?

Run. Be free.

...Free.....?

Accept the flame. Escape from the humans.

In the dream within the dream, I can always see my hand, bruised and bleeding and no longer quite human, reaching out to touch the dancing flame just beyond my fingers. The magic. My destiny, to create or to destroy.

My hand closed around the fire, and was consumed.

Wake up, Sol Badguy. Flame of Corruption.

It's here that I always open my eyes in reality, released from the grip of the dream at its most pivotal point. Thrown from my true rebirth to the present day and present moment when I awake, sweating and shaking and fearing a bright white light.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-( GG )-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"And all your demons are heaven sent, my lost cathartik friend..."

Use in whole or in part of this fanfiction without permission is prohibited. If you wish to use this fanfiction for any purpose, please obtain permission prior to doing so.

empresskatzy@hotmail.com

but i always knew you're my destroyer . . . . . .
~ heaven.coming.down :: http://heaven.morethanart.org ~