Square pretends to own these characters, but they're obvious ripoffs from the hit 60's TV show How the West was Won.
Seeing Beyond, Chap. 5
I am Blank.
My will is no longer my own.
Rather, my consciousness lurks in the shadows while a demon guides my actions. I am a horrified observer to my own actions.
Do I exist, at this point? How can one exist in this state?
Kuja has no qualms about massacring his own troops, Blank reflected grimly, watching another wave of black mages charge, heroically, suicidally. His body, manipulated by the demon, spun effortlessly betwixt the onrushing spells and unleashed a flurry of his own, in return. The potent lightning tendrils snaked their way through the magi ranks, scissoring through countless pointy-hats and purple robes. Blank would've mourned the fading yellow eyes if he could, but he was long past such trite feelings. Every day, he felt his humanity slipping further and further away from him, and he felt nothing but dim indifference for the devastated guinea pigs that were the black mages.
It had been a month and a half, more or less, since Kuja had taken his battered body deep into the heart of Alexandria castle, cackled mystical words and drew arcane symbols in the air, and performed the Demon Summoning. A month and a half since Blank had lost his persona to the demon who had awakened inside of him. A month and a half since Blank had lost his tattered soul.
Blank remembered it all too well. Lying helpless, blankly terrified, on the monstrous stone altar that dominated the damp chamber. Words muttered in the air, words which seemed to reverberate throughout his very essence and touch nerves he hadn't known existed. The dark energy, lancing from Kuja's hands, coursing through him. The sudden awareness that he was no longer alone in his human shell, but that another soul now grappled with his own for dominance. The firebursts of pain and.....strange pleasure, as he was violated in the most profound of ways. And, finally, the overwhelming emptiness as the demon shut his consciousness off, placed his sense of self in an isolated box and reduced him to the broken observer he was.
Since then, he'd watched the fires of Hell through the demon's eyes, smelt the sulfuric stench of destruction through the demon's nose, felt the gouts of sticky blood wash across the demon's fingers. Control he'd lost, sensory perception he had not. He'd borne witness to countless horrific acts committed in his own name, by his own person. He was, in short, a man constantly confronted with Hell.
Kuja had watched his progress with growing delight. It was apparent that his pet demon was exceeding his greatest expectations. He'd stop by, from time to time, to check on Blank's blossoming aptitude and prowess for Murder, Death, and Destruction(TM). The auctioneer handled his "training" directly, but Kuja was really in control. Today, Kuja had stopped by to watch Blank take on an entire battalion of his newest black mages, and seemed delighted when they were all dead.
"The way he moves, it's almost like he's dancing," Kuja confided, rubbing his hands gleefully. "It's a veritable dance of death...a Black Waltz, if you will."
The auctioneer nodded, his dead voice permeating the air. "His potential has been fully met, I believe...my little rat is all grown up. He's yours to play with now, Kuja." His voice carried a hint of regret, as if he was sorry to see Blank go.
Kuja nodded, casting eyes upon Blank. The demon inside of him waited passively, patiently, for his next command.
The auctioneer. "What will you do with him?"
Kuja smiled. "One of the Queen's counselors in Alexandria is.....opposed.....to my rather aggressive plans. Unfortunately, she still places some stock in his counsel. This vexes me terribly, and I am not a man to be vexed. Our Black Waltz here will.....deal with him." Kuja languished over the word "deal."
"So you'll have him killed, then?" the auctioneer asked.
"Killed?" Kuja looked vaguely shocked. "Why, no. Nothing of the like. That would be an incomplete solution, because the next advisor might be just as non-violent as this one. No, the better way to do it would be to bend this one to our will."
"How?"
"He has a wife, and two daughters," Kuja said meaningfully.
The auctioneer nodded, grinning. Abruptly, he decided that wasn't enough, and broke into laughter. Kuja joined him, and the duo of voices spiraled upwards, sending ripples of pain through Blank's consciousness. He'd have closed his ears to the assault if he could, but the demon seemed to relish the sound, and Blank was forced to endure it. Louder, and louder, and louder....
The demon briefly silhouetted the large window, before hopping in and landing noiselessly. The thick Burmecian carpet made keeping silent a breeze, and the demon crept through the arched doorway and into the main hall of Counselor Gravmire's Alexandria residence. Marble glistened, wood gleamed, and relentless steps took the demon across the balcony and into the west wing - the children's room.
One of the children was an angelic eight, her long hair spread across the pillow as she slumbered in bed. The other was four, fists tightly clenched as she lay curled up in her crib. Both snored softly, blissfully unaware of the doom that now hovered above them. A doom which drew a wickedly curved knife and gently placed it at the older girl's throat. A quick flick of his wrist would incise the fatal wound, leaving only a soundless scream in its wake. Blood would spurt, and life would drain away before his very eyes. The demon smiled.....
.....And froze. From somewhere within his faded consciousness, Blank found the strength to rebel against his possessor. With a ferocious strength of will wrenched from the horror of this final indignity, Blank battled for his body, his self, and his soul.
It was a war unlike Gaia had ever known. Every feature, limb, and sense was a battleground. Blank would regain control of his arms, only to lose his legs. He would regain his hearing only to lose his touch. Maniacal, distorted expressions flitted across his face, his limbs jerked spasmodically, and still the battle raged on.
Blank felt the demon winning. It was simply too powerful, too fully developed after six weeks of nurturing. Now it was confident, assertive, and too much for Blank to overcome. Blank felt his control slipping.....
.....And his sight fell upon the girl. So innocent. So undeserving of the fate that awaited her. A fate that would come to pass unless he, Blank, did something. With newfound rage and aggression, he renewed his assault. His mouth opened in an embattled cry.
"I am....."
Blank's back arched, his arms outstretched, and he roared his defiance to the ceiling.
".....a man!!!"
And, in the darkened bedroom, to the accompaniment of two crying little girls, Blank made the final stand for his soul.
That's right. It's me. I'm back, and like Bruce Willis, it's with a vengeance. The last few months have been spent in deep sabbatical. Either that, or I was drinking Kool-Aid. Anyway, go ahead, read it, review it, print it out and spit on it! Or don't! See if I care! Just be real, okay?
Seeing Beyond, Chap. 5
I am Blank.
My will is no longer my own.
Rather, my consciousness lurks in the shadows while a demon guides my actions. I am a horrified observer to my own actions.
Do I exist, at this point? How can one exist in this state?
Kuja has no qualms about massacring his own troops, Blank reflected grimly, watching another wave of black mages charge, heroically, suicidally. His body, manipulated by the demon, spun effortlessly betwixt the onrushing spells and unleashed a flurry of his own, in return. The potent lightning tendrils snaked their way through the magi ranks, scissoring through countless pointy-hats and purple robes. Blank would've mourned the fading yellow eyes if he could, but he was long past such trite feelings. Every day, he felt his humanity slipping further and further away from him, and he felt nothing but dim indifference for the devastated guinea pigs that were the black mages.
It had been a month and a half, more or less, since Kuja had taken his battered body deep into the heart of Alexandria castle, cackled mystical words and drew arcane symbols in the air, and performed the Demon Summoning. A month and a half since Blank had lost his persona to the demon who had awakened inside of him. A month and a half since Blank had lost his tattered soul.
Blank remembered it all too well. Lying helpless, blankly terrified, on the monstrous stone altar that dominated the damp chamber. Words muttered in the air, words which seemed to reverberate throughout his very essence and touch nerves he hadn't known existed. The dark energy, lancing from Kuja's hands, coursing through him. The sudden awareness that he was no longer alone in his human shell, but that another soul now grappled with his own for dominance. The firebursts of pain and.....strange pleasure, as he was violated in the most profound of ways. And, finally, the overwhelming emptiness as the demon shut his consciousness off, placed his sense of self in an isolated box and reduced him to the broken observer he was.
Since then, he'd watched the fires of Hell through the demon's eyes, smelt the sulfuric stench of destruction through the demon's nose, felt the gouts of sticky blood wash across the demon's fingers. Control he'd lost, sensory perception he had not. He'd borne witness to countless horrific acts committed in his own name, by his own person. He was, in short, a man constantly confronted with Hell.
Kuja had watched his progress with growing delight. It was apparent that his pet demon was exceeding his greatest expectations. He'd stop by, from time to time, to check on Blank's blossoming aptitude and prowess for Murder, Death, and Destruction(TM). The auctioneer handled his "training" directly, but Kuja was really in control. Today, Kuja had stopped by to watch Blank take on an entire battalion of his newest black mages, and seemed delighted when they were all dead.
"The way he moves, it's almost like he's dancing," Kuja confided, rubbing his hands gleefully. "It's a veritable dance of death...a Black Waltz, if you will."
The auctioneer nodded, his dead voice permeating the air. "His potential has been fully met, I believe...my little rat is all grown up. He's yours to play with now, Kuja." His voice carried a hint of regret, as if he was sorry to see Blank go.
Kuja nodded, casting eyes upon Blank. The demon inside of him waited passively, patiently, for his next command.
The auctioneer. "What will you do with him?"
Kuja smiled. "One of the Queen's counselors in Alexandria is.....opposed.....to my rather aggressive plans. Unfortunately, she still places some stock in his counsel. This vexes me terribly, and I am not a man to be vexed. Our Black Waltz here will.....deal with him." Kuja languished over the word "deal."
"So you'll have him killed, then?" the auctioneer asked.
"Killed?" Kuja looked vaguely shocked. "Why, no. Nothing of the like. That would be an incomplete solution, because the next advisor might be just as non-violent as this one. No, the better way to do it would be to bend this one to our will."
"How?"
"He has a wife, and two daughters," Kuja said meaningfully.
The auctioneer nodded, grinning. Abruptly, he decided that wasn't enough, and broke into laughter. Kuja joined him, and the duo of voices spiraled upwards, sending ripples of pain through Blank's consciousness. He'd have closed his ears to the assault if he could, but the demon seemed to relish the sound, and Blank was forced to endure it. Louder, and louder, and louder....
The demon briefly silhouetted the large window, before hopping in and landing noiselessly. The thick Burmecian carpet made keeping silent a breeze, and the demon crept through the arched doorway and into the main hall of Counselor Gravmire's Alexandria residence. Marble glistened, wood gleamed, and relentless steps took the demon across the balcony and into the west wing - the children's room.
One of the children was an angelic eight, her long hair spread across the pillow as she slumbered in bed. The other was four, fists tightly clenched as she lay curled up in her crib. Both snored softly, blissfully unaware of the doom that now hovered above them. A doom which drew a wickedly curved knife and gently placed it at the older girl's throat. A quick flick of his wrist would incise the fatal wound, leaving only a soundless scream in its wake. Blood would spurt, and life would drain away before his very eyes. The demon smiled.....
.....And froze. From somewhere within his faded consciousness, Blank found the strength to rebel against his possessor. With a ferocious strength of will wrenched from the horror of this final indignity, Blank battled for his body, his self, and his soul.
It was a war unlike Gaia had ever known. Every feature, limb, and sense was a battleground. Blank would regain control of his arms, only to lose his legs. He would regain his hearing only to lose his touch. Maniacal, distorted expressions flitted across his face, his limbs jerked spasmodically, and still the battle raged on.
Blank felt the demon winning. It was simply too powerful, too fully developed after six weeks of nurturing. Now it was confident, assertive, and too much for Blank to overcome. Blank felt his control slipping.....
.....And his sight fell upon the girl. So innocent. So undeserving of the fate that awaited her. A fate that would come to pass unless he, Blank, did something. With newfound rage and aggression, he renewed his assault. His mouth opened in an embattled cry.
"I am....."
Blank's back arched, his arms outstretched, and he roared his defiance to the ceiling.
".....a man!!!"
And, in the darkened bedroom, to the accompaniment of two crying little girls, Blank made the final stand for his soul.
That's right. It's me. I'm back, and like Bruce Willis, it's with a vengeance. The last few months have been spent in deep sabbatical. Either that, or I was drinking Kool-Aid. Anyway, go ahead, read it, review it, print it out and spit on it! Or don't! See if I care! Just be real, okay?