Disclaimer: I don't any of the characters in this story that appear in the hit syndicated TV show, Dark Angel, which are owned by James Cameron. I do not own the lyrics to the song featured in this story.
Summary: Ben's thoughts as he and Max face off.
Alone I BreakBy
Brin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm a good soldier," I say, crocodile tears stinging at my eyes. "I try so hard…"
She stares at me like I'm insane. I'm not insane. I know exactly what I'm doing and where I'm going in life – death. Everyone reaches it at some point in time, why not today? Why not now? It would end this suffering that some people refer to as 'life.' Well, if I were ever to be caught and tried for my 'crimes', the worst punishment they could give me is life. Why do they even call this meager existent 'life'? 'Tis nothing more than death coupled with reality.
Pick me up
been bleeding too long
Right here, right now
I'll stop it some how
"Tell me where he is," she says, catching my attention.
I fight the urge to laugh at her plea. Instead, I put on a sad face and act as if I have a conscience. My conscience died years ago, you see? I barely even know what regret feels like anymore, because in this world regret gets you nowhere. Regret brings only suffering and self-loathing. I already loathe myself enough, without the burden of regretting some unchangeable act of the past. I got over it. I'm a soldier, not a fruitcake.
She pulls me to my feet, though touching me obviously causes her repulsion. She almost shrinks away at the contact. I can tell she thinks I'm a sick bastard. I am a sick bastard. What else does she want me to be? A goody two-shoes like her? Does she not see that I don't want to make everything right again? My life is and always has been just how I make it out to be – my own personal hell.
I will make it go away
can't be here no more
Seems this is the only way
I will soon be gone
these feelings will be gone
these feelings will be gone
Back at the warehouse, Max shoves me onto the floor, thinking I won't try anything. Damn, but the years have slowed her mind. She knows that no X5 in their right mind would remain in one place while out of sight of the enemy. Max is the enemy this time, whether or not she thinks she is. I never asked her to 'save me.' I don't need saving. I can't be saved. The walls state my only purpose in life.
DUTY. DISCIPLINE. MISSION.
Yes, giving offering to the Blue Lady is my duty. I have disciplined myself to do this for the rest of my miserably existence – to take the lives of others. To make them suffer as I have suffered. My mission is to eliminate all the weaklings who think themselves worthy of her love. I am her slave, in both mind and body. She is my specter, while at the same time I worship her. No one else could possibly understand.
Max throws open the door and runs to Father Destry, the one who claims to have the Lady at his side. The fool. Had he not said that, he would not be in this mess. I cannot let him live after he proclaimed his superiority to the common dedication to the Lady. Ever since I was a child and watched death and destruction around me, I have sworn that no one shall be more deserving of the Lady than I – unless they can kill me, because without death… there is no 'life.'
Now I see the times they change
leaving doesn't seems so strange
I am hoping I can find
where to leave my hurt behind
All this shit I seem to take
all alone I seem to break
I have lived the best I can
Does this make me not a man?
I see my moment and I take it, for that is what soldiers do, especially those who come from Manticore. We are scheming opportunists, no matter how much we want to deny it. If we get an opportunity that is looking good for our own self-interests we take it. But then again, doesn't everyone?
Destry lies on the floor, staring up at me with eyes full of terror. The kind of terror you see in one's eyes as their worst nightmares come alive before their eyes. Well, I am his worst nightmare, but I wouldn't classify myself as alive. I hear Max telling him to run and smile, though I know my smile does nothing but further the priest's terror. After all, I have been told my smile is soulless. "Yes, Father… by all means, run."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Destry runs through the forest like some crazed, injured animal. He has no experience in moving through thick underbrush as I have. He falls and makes whimpering sounds, scratches and bruises covering his pitiful excuse for a body. I give him more of a head start than usual, just because I'm feeling generous. The predatory nature burns inside me as I watch him go. I don't care how much Max wants to believe that she is over Manticore – that her training means nothing to her – if she were here… she'd be chasing him too. There is nothing more invigorating than a hunt… especially one that you know you'll win.
Images of my first hunt run through my mind. That man didn't know what was coming. He underestimated us, and his mistake cost him his life. Never underestimate the power of cruelty. Never underestimate what people will do to each other with the right motivation. As much as we X5s would like to believe that our training has made us the dangerous people we are – and in large part, it has – but there's no denying the fact that we, like all people, are out to destroy anything that will harm us. Why? Because we are cruel, heartless creatures. We were born that way… but aren't we all?
Shut me off
I am ready,
Heart stops
I stand alone
Can't be on my own
Father Destry makes so much noise I can't stand it and take off after him. I actually circle around in front, but duck down in the bushes so that he runs past. My heart beats wildly in my chest like a war party's drum. My body tenses, every nerve alive with the feel of the hunt. He is an antelope and I am his predator – leopard, lion, hyena; take your pick. If a norm knew the… the naturalness I feel when hunting, he would be afraid for not only his life, but the life of all he knows. Life is a feeble thing; something we cling to until death pulls us away like yanking a child from its mother's arms. Fortunately, life is conscious – death is not. And when you have been dead for a hundred years, you have only just begun to be dead.
Destry is far enough now. I jump into the trees and run through the branches. Soon, he is right underneath me and I drop down, hitting him on the head. He never even sensed me coming. He falls to the ground like deadweight and I place my foot upon his chest. Too easy. I hate it when things are easy, because then you put less concentration into it. Human nature naturally welcomes easy – but when the day is over, the path not taken will always haunts you.
Before I had a chance to make the kill, she arrived like bad news. I assumed she considered herself to be some kind of hero by the way she carried herself – by the way she looked at me. She looked at me like a heroine regards her nemesis in a horror movie. The irony of it is bemusing – my entire life has been one big horror movie. The backbone of horror itself is death… and my life revolves around it.
"You're just in time," I say, looking up at her. "It seems his faith wasn't strong enough."
I will make it go away
can't be here no more
Seems this is the only way
I will soon be gone
these feelings will be gone
these feelings will be gone
Her eyes, brown like a doe's, shimmer with fear. I swear I get off on seeing fear in people's eyes. It's the one raw emotion that drives people to do the unthinkable – kill, rape, thieve – and evokes the other destructive emotions – hate, repulsion, disgust. I think it's the backbone of society; what drives our world today. Fear. Fear of society imploding upon itself. Fear of emotional torment. And my personal favorite: fear of death.
"We can let him go," she suggest, her voice filled with hope. "Find someone better," she adds.
Had I the spirit, I would have laughed at her antics. But I don't, so instead I say, "No. This is for you, Maxie. So you'll finally understand what I'm doing."
I hope Max realizes the position I have put her in. Destry… or me. If I were her, I'd pick Destry. I'd save the life of the weakling and kill the strong – which is human nature. Kill the ones that threaten your own superiority. Yet, we aren't exactly human, are we? For a flitting moment I hoped that Max would allow me to do this – to prove my own insanity – and then end my misery. That way, I could kill two birds with one stone – the weakling, and the psychotic killer… both dangers to society.
Max looks at me, then at Destry, and chooses… Destry.
"RUN!" She shouts, jumping into the air and kicking me in the chest.
Destry, the fool, jumps to his feet and runs off with his tail between his legs like a little puppy dog.
I look at Max, and I can see the terror inside her growing. I know what she's feeling, because her face betrays all emotion – not very soldier like. She fears she has unleashed an unseen demon upon herself, and for the most part she has. The situation we are in is akin to one predator causing the other to lose his lunch – and now we fight.
A fierce battle ensues, and for the most part, I am winning. It's not that I'm a better fighter, but I can take more than she. She has grown weaker over the years, her pain tolerance lagging. I can take pain. Lots of it. In fact, I enjoy it. Why? Because for those few precious moments when your nerves explode and your skin goes numb… that's the only thing you think about. Pain makes you forget. It makes you harder. It makes you detached from the world, like a soldier. I'm a good soldier.
Now I see the times they change
leaving doesn't seems so strange
I am hoping I can find
where to leave my hurt behind
All this shit I seem to take
all alone I seem to break
I have lived the best I can
Does this make me not a man?
Max seems to be holding back, but I'm not. Holding back involves some sort of regret. As said before, I do not regret. Holding back involves emotion. I feel no emotion – only pain. Blinding, spinning pain. I don't even know where it comes from, but it's always there… swirling about my head and enveloping my body. And I love it.
Several moments into the fight, it's obvious that there will be no victor. One of us is to die today… and it might as well be the one who wishes his own death. I steel myself for what is to come and shake off some of my skill. She hits me several times, causing that luscious pain within my non-existent soul. I can feel myself breaking from the inside out. The last straw comes when she breaks my leg at the knee and sends me toppling down the hill.
That's it.
I'm a dead man.
She's gonna kill me.
We hear helicopters overhead.
No, she's not gonna kill me.
She's gonna do worse.
Let me live.
They say that suicidal people wish the end until it comes. Maybe I am one of those people, for I can feel that horrible emotion creeping up into my stomach and clamping over my chest – fear. I shouldn't be afraid, however. Nothing is worse than living in a world where nobody understands you and nobody cares. That's the world I have lived in all my life. But as said before… this existence can barely be called 'living' a 'life.'
"Don't leave me here, don't let them take me!" I beg, looking up at her. I know I can grate on her emotions if I try hard enough – she's a sentimental fool. If I rub hard enough, I'll get what I want. Death.
"Ben, I can't carry you," she says, her tone like a mother to a child.
Am I going to leave this place?
What is it I'm hanging from?
is there nothing more to come? (am I Gunna leave this place?)
Is it always black in space?
Am I going to take it's place?
Am I going to leave this race? (Am I going to leave this race?)
I guess god's up in this place?
what is it that I've become?
is there something more to come? (more to come)
"I know!" I snap, giving her my best sad eyes. I hope she cannot see behind my green orbs – to the soulless void that is me. If she does, my case is hopeless. She will let me live.
She shakes her head and begins to tear up. "Ben, I can't…"
Sadness. After sadness comes anger. After anger comes regret. It's an endless cycle that leads to that one emotion – regret – and I don't know why people put themselves through it. It's better not to feel, for then you cannot be hurt. Isn't it ironic that the only way someone can hurt you is if you care?
"Please! You know what they'll do to me!" I cry desperately. I can see the wheels in her head turning. "They'll put me down there… with the 'nomlies. Please!" Kill me! Kill me! I should shout. Maybe I'm not being clear enough.
Max gets this vacant look on her face, like a soldier. That's good. She's on her way to become a good soldier – like me. Vacant. Soulless. Empty.
Now I see the times they change
leaving doesn't seems so strange
I am hoping I can find
where to leave my hurt behind
All this shit I seem to take
all alone I seem to break
I have lived the best I can
Does this make me not a man?
"Tell me about the good place," she says.
I smile through my pain. I can smile now. There's no feeling behind it. I might as well indulge her – just to make her feel worse later. I wish I could be there to see it. "Where no one ever gets punished."
"And no one gets yelled at."
I feel her hand tightening on the back of my neck. She's contemplating it. I know that the harder I press, the more sorrow she'll feel for me – and the more likely she is to put me out of my misery. They should call existence 'misery,' not 'life.' For life is something unreachable in my standards. Happiness, love, life… just words. Reality is hate, fear, sorrow, regret, misery. We exist only in reality, and we exist in misery. "And nobody disappears. And when you wake up in the morning, you can stay in bed as long as you w-"