By
Eve
WARNING: There's an immense content of violent imagery.
It's only a fanfiction, but I know there are Lemon Goddesses in the world. So
if you can't stomach it, e-mail me and I'll tell you what happens. But a word
to the wise, most of the parts from now on will start to be like this.
"The gods neither know
nor understand, wandering about in the darkness, and all the world's
foundations shake…"
Psalm 82:5
**
Chapter
7a: Kindred Souls
**
Moscow,
Russia
11:59
pm
Day
of Restoration
It was still the same miserable prison that she
remembered. Just standing outside, ankle-deep in snow and staring at the barely
standing building caused her to shift uncomfortably. But this was home, dreary
and miserable as it was. She shivered as a cold breeze danced against her,
blowing her hair into her face.
"Back
to ground zero, right?"
Catherine
turned to see Merian come up beside her, arms crossed in front of her chest and
eyes glued on to the building. It was ironic, to say the less. Both Hilde and
Dorothy had been the last to turn because of their "strength" in will. But the two girls had also been the easiest
as well as the quickest, their mentality suffering from constant treatment as
well as detoxing. It was simply ridiculous if she thought about it.
"Where's
Rel?"
"Taking
an express call. Turns out that there's a huge hostage situation with her
brother being one of the captives. Dee's grandmothers a captive as well and
she's just making sure that everyone's sanity is kept in check."
"At
least for the next several days," a voice interrupted. Both turned to see
Relena walking slowly on the snow-covered path, eyes wandering off to the
sides.
"Do
you sense something?"
Relena
shook her head, eyes fluttering shut. "Nothing but memories and old ghosts. The
Underground doesn't reveal themselves until later…"
Catherine
nodded. "It's going to be a battle of wills and inner being now. But do we rise
that level? Can we rise to that level?"
"It
can never be a question of can because we need to, regardless. Even with the
state that they're in, Hil and Dee both know that they're going to turn it up.
It's a test for all of us and we need to pass with flying colors. Otherwise it
will be the council versus the Underground, will their minion the Society as
the champion."
No
words went further and Catherine reached down to her gloved hand tracing slowly
with her fingers one spot in particular.
Crimson
tears would be shed.
**
He
didn't know what to make of this whole situation. This wasn't a war; this was
something indescribable, something that they were never meant to be apart of.
He thought back to the time that they had been in Hungary. It was initial shock
seeing Merian and the rest of his comrades seeing their counterparts. It had
been unnerving, yet it finally dawn on him that they had need to look at the
situation at hand.
Schibecker
had been right.
They
never belonged here.
But
they were now apart of something they had never faced before. They were
beginners and for the first time in his life, he was scared as hell.
Hell
was freezing over if he admitted to being afraid.
**
They
had decided to enter through the first room, windowless and cold. Each of the
three had spent countless of hours, even days sitting in this room locked with
bitter memories and unexplainable emotions.
Catherine
was standing at the far end of the corner, violet eyes piercing one stop in
particular.
//"Subject
shows no initial response to test treatment. On a personal perspective, subject
looks empty. There is no movement what so ever, as the head of the experimental
team I feel that I should administrate more of the laxidant."
Dr.
Andrews sighted, placing the tape recorder down and his head in his hands. He
had spent at least six nights straight observing the future pilot of the
Phoenix. He thought it was ironic, the young girl having hair the color of fire
itself.
Looking
up, he suddenly felt like he was being watched. "Hello?" His voice called,
echoing down the hallway. "Hello? Anyone ther-"
He
stumbled back in shock. The child that he had been observing stood before him,
eyes dark and face covered in bruises from the harsh treatment if she refused
the medication. She gripped a long six-inch dagger in her hand, blood trickling
down her arm.
Drip…
Drip…
Breathe, he ordered himself. Breathe and talk to the child. It would be not as hard since he couldn't read the expression her face.
"Mon
cher, what are you doing?"
The child did not answer, taking a step
towards the trembling man and her grip tightening on the dagger. He began to
tremble.
Breathe…
The
child came and sat upon his knees, violet eyes searching his own for something,
something he'd hope she'd find soon.
"I
don't want to play anymore with you."
She
brought the dagger down swiftly, imbedding it into his eye. He wanted to
scream, but could not find the voice to scream or
even
struggle. He could feel the blood trickle down his face mingling with her open
wound in her hand
"I'm
going to play with them."//
She kneeled down and picked up a rusty object, bits of silver sparkling from what little light there was. Speaks of dry blood were still smeared onto the ends of the dagger, she held it in her hands watching it in fascination.
//"Why
do you do it?"
"I
think you should be asking why did he do it?"
The
old man chuckled, caressing a strand of hair out of her face. "You are becoming
more and more like one of us. A kindred soul of the underground..."
"Am
I really?"
"Do
you think you are is the question?"
The
child regarded him with an amused expression. He thought she'd…
"Nope."
"The
question doesn't require a simple answer, child. Yet, I take it you know that."
Violet
eyes sparkled with an unreadable gleam. She jumped off the chair she had been
sitting on.
"The
Phoenix may light the Darkness, but it is the Darkness that lights the way."//
Bringing
the dagger down, she cut open and old scar that she had made.
One
slash…
Two
slash…
X
marks the beginning of terror and the return of the first fallen.
Kindred
spirits beware.
**
Trowa's
eyes snapped open, awakening Dorothy from a restless seat. She had been pissed
as ever to sit next to the stoic pilot. She had been on the receiving of his 'I
don't trust you one bit' glares. And she was ready to do something more than
slam him into a table.
"What's
going to happen to Catherine?"
She
looked at him, eyes dark. For a moment she could feel the second wind of energy
course through her body. And then in a voice she wasn't even sure she
remembered, she spoke tone filled with age-old wisdom.
"Hilde
and I were the last to turn because the process had been altered by a newly
assigned doctor who wanted nothing more than substantial power. We're not as
dangerous as the other three because of what they went through to get to the
specific point. So in a sense the three of them are kindred spirit, one more
dangerous than the other. When we meet up again, you will see the change. They
will be no longer soldiers, but warriors with blood-stained souls."
"But
you and-"
"Think
of us as the guardians of the underworld and the other three as the carriers of
destiny. That was the initial idea of creating the Jitsatsu pilots. Carriers of
destiny's plan… There's an even bigger story behind this war, sadly. One that
only those of us who have experienced it ourselves can understand. I would
explain it to, but that is for Kit to decide."
She's
turned already.
**
Far
off in the western corridor, Merian stood in the old chambers of the nurse they
had when they were staying in the building. It was the nicest of the rooms,
obviously. She remembered, the silver four-post bed covered with sky-blue
sheets and a silver comforter. Paintings by the greats of 19th
century A.D art such as Van Gough and Monet covered the walls. That is until
she discovered her newfound obsession with fire.
//
"What do you think about it, Merian? You think they did a good job?"
The
young girl was silent, looking around the room as if it were nothing special.
She had never been exposed to any luxury of sorts and she knew that with the
war going on no one including those under protection could afford luxury. The
old hag must have slept with someone important to get this room.
"Pretty,"
she responded in a monotone voice. She spotted a lighter on a wooden bureau
across the room. Merian rolled her eyes as the head nurse clapped her hands in
glee at her response.
"Oh,
I'm so glad you like it. Maybe will do lessons here and then over-"
She
let the old woman drift into her own thoughts, quietly but quickly moving
towards the lighter. Grabbing it quickly, she hid it behind her back as the
older woman looked at her curiously. She racked her brain for an excused.
"I
thought I saw a bug."
She
looked at Merian. "Okay. But why are your hands behind your back?"
Merian
shrugged, thumbs rubbing against the lighter hoping to create a flame.
"You
said don't touch and put my hands behind my back."
"I
did?"
She
nodded earnestly in response, biting back a smirk, as she was successful in her
attempts to create of flame.
"Yes,
you did."
"Oh,"
the nurse replied stepping towards her. "But why do I have the feeling that you
have something behind your back."
"But
I don't, so I don't see the initial problem."
"Give
it to me."
She
looked at the woman with an innocent gaze. "Don't have anything," she replied
in a singsong voice. She could feel the flame grow warmer and larger.
The
older woman grabbed her arm. "What the-"
She
brought the lighter to the older woman's face, watching in morbid fascination
as her body lit up in bright flames. The screams coming out of the woman were
weak, she realized with a frown. She had been excepting more from the old hag.
Merian
turned and left the room.
Oh
well. //
Tracing her fingers of the ash covered floor, she brought her blackened fingers to her lips tasting the essence she had left behind so long ago.
A
blackened bitter taste consumed her mouth and she bit down on her tongue,
drawling blood and allowing it to mingle with the taste of ash.
The
old nurse had screamed like a fucking banshee.
//
"You children will be the death of me."
She
rolled her eyes not amused and unfazed. She was not impressed with this guy.
"Then
why haven't you killed us yet?"
"Such
inquiring minds, you young ones."
Again,
she rolled her eyes. The older man caught this, a deep smirk crossing his
features.
"Who
are you to disrespect your elders, child?"
She
slipped off the chair, heading towards the door. She brushed a strand of her
hair out of her face and called over her shoulder.
"Who
are you to disrespect the hands of God?" //
She
reached into her to pocket, pulling out a never opened pack of cigarettes. She
brought the silver lighter up to her eyes, watching the flame dance. Bringing a
slim hand up, she brushed her over the lighter.
Pain
was a weakness.
Strength
won battles.
Yet,
spirit won the wars.
Blood
trickled down her lips and she brought the cigarette up to her lips.
Kindred
spirits arise.
**
Sleeping
was never an option and even after the war had ended, he barely traveled the
dreamscape. Sally had once offered to recommend him to a doctor that could
proscribe something for his insomnia. Drugs would never work.
He
sighed and shut his eyes. He could picture her face, expression empty and sad.
These women didn't deserve any of this. The more he heard their stories, the
more he understood that not only were they fighting to keep a balance.
They
were fighting for mankind to continue existing.
//
"Why do they call you the Jitsatsu Pilots?"
Merian
gave him a tiny grin, shutting her laptop down. She motioned for him to sit on
the bed across from her.
"To
put this way, think of us as avenging angels brought into existence to carry
out the will of God. Except we are here to maintain the balance… The people of
the Earth and the colonies can only know so much, Wufei. Can you imagine if
people gained knowledge of what was really going on in the shadows?"
"Chaos,"
he whispered. "Total chaos."
She
nodded. "Exactly." //
Merian…
**
The Will must be carried out
Death will claim the souls of those who resist
And the oppressor will bleed."
Her fingers traced the craved inscription slowly, eyes watching it in a blank gaze. She had been barely seven, alone and in constant isolation. She remembered that day clearly, though. It had been the day where she had stopped talking altogether.
//
It was cold in the north side. She felt the lack of ventilation the most
during Russia's brutal winters. Making sure no one was coming, she pulled out a
knife that she stole from one of the guards. Standing up, she made her way
across the room to the corner near the door.
She
had heard Nana talking about religion one day and thought one of the songs she
had been sing was interesting. It reminded her of something, something she
couldn't really put her finger on just yet. It was almost as if it was relating
to all of them.
With
swift strokes, she craved the verse onto the white wall with paint shavings
falling to the ground at her feet.
"What
are you doing, brat?"
She
whirled around to meet the glare of one of the guards stationed on her wing.
She watched him with an amused expression. Like hell was she going to be afraid
of him.
"I
asked you a question, brat."
As
expected, the fat guard brought his arm down with the intention of smacking her
as all guards were ordered to do if any of them refused to obey their commands.
She blocked his arms, her own set in a cross position and eyes regarding him,
as he were nothing but a nuisance.
She
continued to stare at him, eyes never wavering and knowing that silence would
completely drive him insane. That's what happened to last guard. Getting
through to him was essential, essential for her freedom.
Her
eyes widened.
Freedom?
No
longer did she carry the feeling, the necessity of wanting to be free from this
hell. Her psyche, her frame of mind had gotten used to the initial theory of
being imprisoned by these people and the council. Her soul now belonged to the
war.
She
ripped her arms away from the big man, who took this as a signal that he could
attack her. As he went in for the kill, she ducked and grabbed the knife she
had left on the ground. Swiftly flinging her arm up, she threw the knife into
his chest aiming for any artery she could. The attack caught the guard in a
moment of shock, allowing her to grab his gun and shot him in the head. He fell
to the ground in front of her and her own composure never wavered.
So,
she thought. This is what it means to accept the silence. //
Accepting
the silence, she thought with a shake of her head. Accepting the silence would
mean she'd be accepting a part of herself that only the darkness revealed.
She
meant what she said to Heero.
She
removed her trench coat and rolled the sleeve of her shirt up, revealing a tiny
numbers imprinted into her ivory wrist. Digging into her back pocket, she pulled
out her Swiss army knife and flicked it open.
The
shiny end made her think of the rays of light from the moon.
Crisp.
Sharp.
//
"You're the third this weak."
She
said absolutely nothing, eyes trained on the door. This was obviously a waste
of time.
"They're
telling me you stopped speaking now. No one just stops speaking out of the
blue, child. Tell me, why?"
She
again made no motion to speak. There was no use for a voice now. She still had
much to do. The old man chuckled. "It's ironic, I think. The best of the five
doesn't speak. The silent assassin, I can see it now. A swift and fearless
killer, no rules and no playing, she is the angel of death herself. Even
Persephone answers to her."
Midnight
blue eyes slowly rose to meet the amused gaze of the elder. She caught the man
off guard, the intensity burning into his mind. The young child jumped down off
the wooden chair and headed to the door.
Suddenly,
she stopped turning to meet the surprised look of the old man.
"I
am the Final Judgment for all. I will bring justice to the oppressed." //
Blood
rolled down her wrist, dripping all over her trench coat and the floor. She
watched unfazed by her own actions. It was a new level now with new
possibilities. Larson had pushed too far and had no idea what was about to hit
him.
Crimson
tears will shed.
Kindred
Souls have returned to the deliver the Will of Fate.
**
Relena…
**
Mags…
**
Hilde
shifted in her seat, feeling the change of emotions in the air. Duo who had
been in somewhat of daze from the execution, now watched her with interest. He
had felt the change too.
"New
game," she whispered. "It's a whole new game."
**
Author's
Notes Another part finished and
for some reason this one took a lot out of me. Maybe it was all the violent
imagery. Well, you did get the three for one deal. And don't think that it's
the end of the blood. The next part is a whole new level for me. ;;^^ Anyhow,
Sylvia Noventa is still to come as well as a form of Lana's execution, and the
resolution of the kidnapping fiasco. Plus more blood. That's two warnings in
one chapter. Wow…
Dedication: As usual to oneechan and of course Ani-chan, my
imouto who reviewed the wrong fic of mine. ::blows raspberry:: And to Megs who
MIA. Merci!
Disclaimer:
Yeah, right. You really want to
know how I feel about this?