Will and Fate
By Jeremy
Chapter 18
October 2, 1997
"This isn't going to be pleasant."
"She brought this upon herself, and more than deserves it."
"I'm not doubting that, lad. Just stating a fact."
"A truthful one. But this was the rule here, and I'll follow my old friend's rules here."
This exchange, given in a rather nervous but determined tone, took place between Giorgio Castillo, Acting Commander of SCD, James Wolfman, Commander of MI6 and Mark Culhen, Communication and Electronics Specialist. Of the three, Mark was the least thrilled about what was about to happen. Not surprising: first, because since he had arrested her, he would be most directly responsible for what she would go through, and secondly, both Wolfman and Castillo were angry on a far more personal level than he was. He did not blame either. He just wished that he was quite elsewhere. Jeremy had refused, but that was a taken: he was ever at Cammy's side, helping her recuperate from her wounds.
They made their way to the holding cells below SCD HQ. Here nothing was amiss, nothing denoted the terrible battle that had gone on and cost so much for this compound. They made their way to one particular cell, where three guards worked as sentries. Giorgio gave a short nod, then asked if the traitor had outfitted herself.
"No, sir." explained the oldest soldier "She's been refusing to wear it, supposedly because it's not, and I quote here 'not a nice colour.'"
This did NOT please Giorgio who, since the raid on the Shadowlaw Base and Julia's severe wounding in the battle in England, had an hair-trigger temper about the traitor. He gestured to the three soldiers.
"Go in there, all three of you and have her put it on! FORCE her if you have to, I care not. And tell her that she'd be better off not bringing me in there! Now go."
The three men saluted, one worked on the numeric sequence that allowed the door to open, and all three went in. The door hissed shut behing them, and the three men waited. They waited a long time, more than ten nerve-wracking minutes, and Giorgio was just deciding to carry out his previous threat, when the door hissed open again, and the three men that had gone. Between to of them came the traitor that had crippled SCD.
Nemmi Shiwasa, who had helped, by her manipulations and hacking talents, the recapture of Cammy White by Shadowlaw and the bloody Headquarters Battle, Was standing between the guards as if this was a normal day, despite her manacled wrists, the flow of blood that oozed from her lips - obviously she had put up quite a fight, and the costume she was wearing. An ugly costume it was, to be sure. A brownish green, skin-tight, it covered her whole body except her head. The suit was criss-crossed by dark-blue filaments that ended in electric and electronic stumps. Mark, who had helped design the thing, no quite well what it could do. And althought he had no pity for the bitch - he lost friends too, in the attack - but he didn't like it.
She gave a bloody smirk to Giorgio. "Why, Acting Commander. What a promotion Giorgio. But I thought Simmons was to be Brisby appointed successor." she then let off a laugh. Mark saw his friend's eyes harden, but nothing more. He waved them all to follow and they did, even Wolfman, who in fact had the superior rank. They all did, the guards pushing Nemmi along. The scot saw her face, read litle fear, and guessed she knew nothing about what she would soon face. If she did, she would be struggling mightily.
They came to a room, one that was kept well but hadn't been used in over six years, barely three months after Mark had joined SCD. A time Mark had wished never to repeat.
The group entered. The room was small, filled with computers lining two walls and a restraining chair. This chair had many electric and electronic cables attached to it, and there was a strange helmet arraged in the same fashion as the suit the traitor was wearing. Two SCD technicians were operating the computers as they entered, and turned to face the new arrivals.
Giorgio was in no mood to waste time with formalities. "Is the program ready to play."
"Yes, sir. All will be redirected throught the helmet and the suit."
"W-what the hell is this?" asked Nemmi. Mark supposed she wanted to appear a mixture of angry and disgusted, but there was a fear to her that fooled no one.
"You'll find out." stated Wolfman with a neutral expression. "Strap her in."
The soldiers did their best to do just that, but now Nemmi had a certain idea of what they could do with such a device. She didn't like what she imagined, obviously, for she put up a good fight, using her superior Elite training and coupled with desperate energy, and causing the the three men to have much trouble. Finally Giorgio waded in, followed by a reluctant Mark. The two Elite pushed the soldiers aside, and, after a while, managed to sit her down. Giorgio held her down with the strength and determination of a veteran soldier, while Mark strapped each foot, and then each hand. After they did so, the technicians started connecting the cables to the stumps on the suit. She stopped struggling as she did so, staring at the three officers in a mixture of helpless rage and utter terror. Mark barely managed to keep his expression neutral, while Castillo and Wolfman were utterlu unflappable. The spanish came forward, formally.
"Nemmi Shiwasa, you have been found guilty of treason that caused the death or crippling of key SCD personel. What say you?"
"You have been found guilty of illegal sequestering and illegal trial measures." she spat back. "What say YOU?"
Giorgio nodded, as if he knew the answer he'd be given - and who was to say? Maybe he did - and gestured to the soldiers. They came forward and put the brownish helmet on, connecting cables. As it was, only her mouth was visible in the end.
"Any last words?" he asked.
"Yeah." she said, trying to control her fear "SCD sucks. You all suck!" she fairly screeched.
He nodded absently, as if agreeing. "Start the S.I.D Program." The technicians pushed a button.
They could see little of Nemmi's face, only her mouth. For a moment it retained its air of desperate defiance, then she gasped, tried to recover. It was clear a great strain was taking root within her. She tried to hide it by biting her lips, hard, until blood started flowing from them, but finally couldn't hold back a whimper. Her body jerked. The whimper became more pronounced. Still they all watched, all as impassive as they could get themselves to be. The whimpers stayed on for a minute or two, and then it started.
"Nhh...no...no, not that...no...no! NO! PLEASE, NOT THAT! STOP PLEASE! DOOON'T! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! AHAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
Mark couldn't help but hang his head a little. If Jeremy had been here, he probably would have been shocked and repulsed by what they were doing. Just as well he was going on vacation to Italy with Cammy. They didn't need another voice on their conscience right now. They were elite soldiers, but this had nothing to do with battle. Wolfman, beside him, listened to the incresingly hysterical pleas and scream, and stuntered to him.
"Brisby called it 'The Shame and Need of SCD, and I can understand why now! But, I must admit I'm not really sure of what it does."
Mark sighed. He did not wish to explain. But Wolfman had given an order, and he deserved to know. "The system is an bioelectronic device, worked out by our best engineers utilising ground work made by doctors and scientists that worked on brain waves. The computers transmits a frightening or abusive situation, passing them on after the other, until the subcouncious responds to one. Then the computers utilise their programs to augment the intensity of the experience, making it worse and worse."
Wolfman nodded, only his eyes showed a pity when he looked at the suffering Nemmi. "The suit itself?"
"Designed to give the body the sight, smell, hearing and physical impression of the situation. The person is there, as far as she knows. There's no escape." he paused, swallowed hard "All the while we ask questions durinmg the event - yes-no questions, which gives us much data on the organisation the traitor worked for for example. Eventually the mind can't take it anymore. It breaks down into insanity, than incohent horror. And then...it shuts itself off. When it does, the computers give out an electric charge that stops the heart. Its the perfect way to kill - no trace, no proof, no nothing."
Nemmi's screams increased in intensity, and Giorgio finally turned to them as well. He had overheard, of course. "Yes. Although we follow the law for most matters, we ARE almost as bad as Shadowlaw when it comes to traitors." he gave a wry, sickened smile "Maybe that's why we fight them - we have at least something in common: we don't forgive." he stopped, listened to the screams for a second. "Come. This will go on for a while. Lets go back to somewhere I won't feel like a complete monster." he turned to leave. Everyone followed.
As he left, Mark heard Nemmi scream out in her delirium, a sentence that would haunt him every time he would think about the incident.
"NOOOWAHHHHH! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MEEEE?"
Why, indeed? Beyond the reasons they officially gave, what could it be, except simple, wicked, WARPED vengeance.
* * * * * * * * * *
One month later...
"I can see him, looking at me, his eyes showing scorn and cruelty, his whole face a smirking facade. I...I try to give him back that glare, pound for pound. But I can't, not really. I'm scared, I'm scared and he sees that, he feels it. So he laughs at me, as if I'd just told him a great dirty joke. I mean nothing to him, nothing at all. He tells me he's glad to have found me again, but its said in the tone of someone finding a useful toy again. I feel pitiful, small, but I tell myself I'd rather die than show it, even though my hands are shackled upward, my wrist burning, my shoulders straining, even though there'd be nothing I could do against him, even if I was free. And he knows it, knows what I'm trying to hold on to."
"His smirk grows bigger, and the hate I feel just goes along with it. It burns me, I spit at him, curse him, and he all takes it all in stride. I'm starting to feel his presence, inside my head, mocking me. I feel like screaming, but choke it out. I don't want to give in to him, not now, not ever again! And then he reached out with that big hand of his and stroke my cheek. I couldn't bear it, I felt like dying, and I reacted. I used my chained hands to push myself upward and jammed my feet in his genitals. It hit, really did. And it hurt him. I felt a mad flash of triumph, a sense of exultation at the fact that I'd hurt him, for once! But it was short-lived. He...he looked back at me with an deformed, furious face, and hit me in the face. I felt numb, it was like being hit by a pole or such. I felt a coppery taste in my mouth. Then another punch, in my stomach, making me want to puke, and then another, and another. I try not to scream but the pain's so much too much, I can't take it. I finally cry out, and still he hits me. This goes on for I don't know how long, and then he stops. I think maybe he's had enough for this time, but I'm wrong. He's had enough of beating me up. But not enough of ME."
"I...he started tearing off my clothes. I tried to resist it, sure, but tied up, what could I do. My strength was out, I hurt everywhere! I cursed him openly, but it only brought me another fist in the gut. Then he started touching me, roughly, everywhere. No gentleness, no comapssion, no nothing. This was just to humiliate me, to break me, and I felt a new pain, inside me, because he was raping me and I knew, I knew and I couldn't do a thing about it! And then I felt him slide inside with strength. It hurt! It hurt! And his voice spoke in my head, taunting, triumphant, filled with cruelty! And I couldn't help it, I begged, BEGGED him to stop, please, I couldn't take it, but he wouldn't...he..."
"Wake up, dear."
Cammy opened her eyes, slightly dizzy, left with a bitter taste in her mouth but not much else, and stared at Rose, who was gently looking back, her eyes filled with sadness. She took it that she had seen much the same things as with the other psychic mind-reads, and her heart sank at the realisation.
It was Jeremy who had nearly begged her to see the wise, mysterious woman again, and try out the psychic help. She was still against it at that time, but she had had so many nightmares about what had happened with Bison and his band that she started to consider it, and, finally, had accepted to devote the vacation Giorgio had just about forced upon them to dealing with the mental scars she carried. They had tracked down Rose to her private residence, only three miles outside the city of Venice, and it had taken only a little talk for the lavender-haired woman to accept to attempt a therapy. So far it had helped in the fact that the nightmares were coming more rarely, but nothing else yet. She still felt that fear at the back of her mind.
"What happened, Rose?" she inquired.
A soft sigh. "What usually happens in such cases: your subcouncious mind is filled with your experience with Bison, ever present - his work, of course."
"We've been at this for two weeks! How can I rid myself of this nightmare?!?"
Rose considered. "I would normally say that time would heal all things, but Bison arranged for this sentence to be hollow. The psychic imprint is strong, and would need a psychic attack - A dangerous procedure, and I wish not to risk it yet, and never without your consent."
Cammy nodded. "I got it. I'll think about it. Look at the time! Sorry to do this, but Jer said he'd wait for me for breakfast, and he's a pain when he waits too long."
Rose smiled. "Then go, dear. We'll see each other soon, to try again, or at least talk about what we could do."
The braided SCD woman grabbed her coat, only slightly wincing as her still-fragile body violently protested against the sudden movement. Still she went out of the nice, well-built house hurriedly, when she stopped and smacked her forehead. Jeremy had asked her to ask Rose about which shop in Venice baked the best cinammon pies - his personal poison. Although she would have shrugged this off normally, she just had to imagine Jer's slight disappointed look to turn on her heel and reenter the house. She opened the door soundlessly, and was about to politely call out, when she heard a male voice speaking. A voice she knew.
"...to help, huh?"
Jer's voice! What was he doing here? She'd just been there, how could he have entered the place without she noticing? Unless...unless he'd been here all along. She strained her ears and listened closely. Rose was speaking.
"I know that well, Jeremy. But there is nothing else I can do for her. Not the way I am doing it, certainly. And the other ways are blocked until she asks for them. The main help, young man, will have to come from you."
That seemed to fluster the man, although Cammy couldn't see him from her position. "I...I don't see what I could do. I've heard what Bison did - seen its results myself - from her own mouth, and from what I heard, there's little I can do. The problem's psychic-"
"The problem," cut in Rose, a triffle impatiently, "Is in her mind. To conteract it, you need something of equal weight as a base. And that, dear youth, you have."
"And that is?"
"Your love for her."
Cammy froze for a moment, not believing her ears. What was Rose thinking?!? Was she trying to unnerve the man or something? She frankly couldn't believe her ears. She expected to hear embarassment or, worse, a denial. However, neither came, and the young woman was surprised to hear the man sigh in resignation.
"People really can't lie to you, huh, madam Rose?" he said softly, his voice introspective. "Yes, I love her. There's no one I love more in this world. But how do I know she has the same feelings?"
"Simple observation of facts. Ever since...the incident and her recovery, she has been with you as much as she could. Her mood, usually wary, bordering on depressive, becomes lively and filled with quiet joy when she even mentions you. Believe me, child, you mean much to her. You should tell her. It might help her."
"Or push her away." his voice trembled slightly "And if...if that happened, it would kill me. So I can't speak out. Not yet."
Cammy slowly closed the door, the request about a bakery utterly forgotten. Her mind was having a field day dishing out emotions at her. She was angry, because of the man's spying. She was distraught by the fact they talked about her behind her back. But these were the minor emotions, those that held very little place right now. Two emotions had center seat, and she mentally danced back and forth between the two.
The first was shame. She had heard Jeremy's evident lack of certainty about her feelings towards him, and she knew why it was so. Always, when she was with him, she'd never show much joy, and never any real affection. She was nice with him, as nice as she could bring herself to be right now. But how to explain that each time she saw him, she felt a warm, fuzzy thing inside her. That when he had gently stroked her hair during the first, horrible few days that followed her liberation, that she had felt safe, and that the nightmares always receded. She loved him, she was quite certain of that.
She just couldn't bring herself to really show it. Hence the shame.
And the other feeling. It had come to her very clearly, had made her head feel light for a few moments. When he had admitted his love, she had started to feel it. But it was one sentence that made it felt fully.
'There's no one I love more in this world.' He had said it with so much sincerity, so much affection in his voice. It could only be the truth. Thinking about it, a tear rolled down her cheek, and she allowed herself a tentative smile. Yes, she recognised that emotion, even though she and it had been so out of touch until he arrived in her life.
Joy. That was it. Pure, unadulterated JOY.
Suddenly, she felt it was time to set things right. Very soon. Somehow. She'd just need a place, an occasion...
...and a whole lot of guts.
* * * * * * * * * *
Thirty minutes later...
"...so there I was, stuck between Allied tanks and Axis infantry, those bastards bombing the fields and making so much noise I though I'd go deaf! Did you know what I did then, son?"
Jeremy barely stiffled a yawn. "No, sir? What did you do?" he asked, although he'd been told the story fifty times already before.
"I went getting my ol' man, told him about the war at our door, of course! We fled before the two bands of thugs history so proudly calls 'armies' could come to blow." he shook a scrawny finger. "Remember that son: the best way to win a war is not doin' any to begin with. Remember that!"
Although the young man nodded as if he been given some holy edict, inwardly he sighed in boredom. This wasn't the first time he'd come to Venice while working for SCD, and each this old man - Linus Esfratta - caught him and mired him in stories of the devastation that World War Two had caused to Italy. The problem was the old guy always seemed to forget which story he had told, and went on repeating it. It was the second time he'd told that one just now, and he was getting tired.
He still felt that telling Rose about his feelings was a bit premature, but he had felt it was better this way. He knew lying to a psychic was impossible, anyway. Actually, it had felt good, telling it to somebody who understood, at least in part. He only wondered how he could ever tell Cammy herself and how she'd take it. He felt there was something they shared, but was it love for both?
And Rose herself, what an enigma that woman was! Ever since Julia had introduced him to her a few months after he joined the SCD, she had been extremely willing to help him in particular, even more than Julia, who was a real friend. Today, just before going through the shortcuts that would take him to the room Cammy and he shared before she arrived to find him gone, he'd ask why out of curiosity. And she'd smiled that oh-so irritating smile of hers and given him a picture as an answer. Out of irritation and questionning, he fished it out of his pockets and examined it, momentarily forgetting the man next to him.
The picture was that of a woman holding a baby in her arms, smiling a cheerful smile at the camera, the baby itself pointing at whoever was taking the picture. The woman had black hair, pulled in a ponytail, was shapely and definitely held a sort of elegance hampered only by the slightly clumsy way she held the babe. Too tight, as if not to drop him. Not her child, certainly. The child itself was dressed in a blue cotton suit with white...little...horses...wait a minute, weren't there a photograph of himself dressed in a smiliar suit.
"Well, if it isn't miss Rose. You know her, son?" said Esfratta, making Jer jump. He'd forgotten the old man was still there. He blinked, looked at the man, then at the photograph, and had the sudden wish to smash his head into a wall for such blindness. It was true. The woman WAS Rose herself. He'd been thrown off by the hair colour, the hairstyler, and mostly by the immensely cheery face she wore, instead of the kind, reserved mien he knew. But...but then, if it was her, was it HIM? Probably, judging it was supposed to answer his question. But beyond the fact that she'd seen him as baby, what could it all mean? He didn't have a ready answer, and it irked him. Ever he had disliked unsolved mysteries.
"Jer? Jer! Earth to Jeremy Storm, come in!" said a female voice.
He snapped out of his puzzled, stunned reverie to face have a finger snap right in his face. Not expecting it, the grey-eyed man stumbled backward, his arms flailing the air for a moment in fashion that most have made him look like an utter fool, and fell on his behind unceremoniously and painfully. He cursed for a moment, then looked upward to see Cammy standing there, in a heavy coat, her arm extended and a rather sheepish look on her face. Next to her, old Esfratta was shaking his head, as if saying 'kids these days.' He was probably right, too.
"Err...sorry." she said, with an embarrassed half-smile "Didn't know you'd react like that."
He groaned in answer, and got up to his feet. The old man chuckled as he dusted his back rapidly.
"You young folk, always jumping at shadows. Well, I'm off. Time to give these old bones a rest."
They bid him good day - Jeremy had difficulty keeping the relief off his voice - and they left toward their hotel, walikng through italian-speaking passerbies. He found himself under the scrutiny of just aboutr every young italian women they passed, and he squirmed under some of the gazes. He sometimes felt they thought him a delicioud piece of candy and, like hungry people are won't to do when hungry, tear unto him. Very frightening image that. He pushed it out of his imagination rapidly, only to find Cammy under the same scrutiny from the male population. She was dealing with it better, however, as she didn't even looked back. Not that she would. Not right now, not after all that had happened to her. He tried to break off this sudden foul mood.
"Hum, well. How was it, at Rose's place? Any progress?" he inquired, although he knew already from Rose herself. So he was a little disturbed when she gave him a strange, disquieting look and a slow nod.
"I came to understand a few important things there." she stated cryptically.
He raised his eyebrows. No explosion. No rant. No despair. There was nothing in her voice that was usual when she came back from one of these sessions. And Rose had told her there'd been no real changes. What could those important things be? He tried to be casual about it, but found himself unable to resist asking.
"Hum, what important things?"
And then she smiled. A shy smile, an uncertain one, but he was but shocked and overjoyed to see it. It had been so rare, these past few weeks, to see her smile, at anything. This act was enough to have him dance on a cloud for the rest of the day, at least! It was a miracle he didn't give off a goofy grin in answer, but glad too; it would have ruined the mood.
"You already know about them." she answered softly.
O-kay, now he REALLY felt confused. Since when did he make any remarquable discovery, anything that seemed important? Well, whatever it was, it musn't have been something that had struck him. Or maybe he wasn't thinking the right way? Arg, nevermind! He thrusted the confusion away as best he could, enjoying her relative good mood. She seemed to await no answer, so he gave none. They walked silently for a while.
Then she stopped, her face giving the impression she was taking some kind of important decision. Left with the choice of stopping or continuing alone, he stopped as well, feeling like some lamb and not caring.
"Do you..." she coughed, stopped.
"Yes?" he prodded gently.
"Do you want to...go out tonight?"
His breath caught for a moment, and he choked, nearly strangling himself. When he could see properly - not to mention speak - he looked back at her, found her staring at him in what could be a mixture of apprehension and amusement. Feeling much like a fool, he flushed in embarassment and found his voice quickly.
"G-g-g-go out? As in...t-t-the two o-of us?" he stammered.
"Yes." her voice no longer seemed hesitant. Her decision seemed made. "Do you want to?"
Did he WANT to?!? Did trees grow? Did the sun rise every morning? He felt like laughing, like crying, like doing something flashy or otherwise ridiculous. But he did nothing of that. He only smiled happily, and nodded. Her own face seemed to flush with emotions he couldn't define right then, and she resumed walking. "Rose told me of a very good place. Let's try it, okay?"
"Sure!"
"Oh, by the way...weren't you going to do breakfast this morning?"
He had completely forgotten that. But he answered readily enough. "I was thinking about pancakes, is that okay?"
She went stiff for amoment, her face taking a vaguely alarmed expression. "Pancakes?" she asked in near-horror.
"Ah well, yes. Why?"
"The last time you tried pancakes, you nearly blew up our room. Or have you forgotten?" she asked ironically.
"Oh. Hehe." he scratched the back of his head, nervously "Err....w-well...eggs...eggs I can do."
"As long as you don't put the eggshells along with the eggs."
He raised his eyebrows in mock indignation. "I'll have you know I make the best scrambled eggs there are! To DARE think I'd stoop so low as to..."
He stopped with a squaking sound when her hand gently took his. He returned the gesture, but was too dumfounded to do more than stare. This was a clear-cut novelty. What was happening to her today?
"Eggs are fine." she said, giving his hand a slight squeeze.
And not for the last time this day, Jeremy Storm nodded, dumbfounded but happy. Surreally happy.
He couldn't wait until tonight.
* * * * * * * * * *
That evening...
Rage.
That's what he felt. But not one which burned, or seared the soul. It was one that left one cold and hollow, left one wanting for more. It was an emotion few men would want to live with for too long. No more than a day, never a month. For this was something that offered nothing at all to its holder.
He had been feeling the cold rage for three years, and he loved it, for it defined his being, his purpose and his goals with utter clarity. Some of his goals were noble, he knew it for certain. Some were less so, he was just as certain. They were necessary, however. And that was why he had waited. And was still waiting. He'd heard them talking today. They should be coming out of that building anytime now. Or about. Soon, certainly. Doesn't matter, he'd wait until they showed up. He wanted to look at them more closely. Understand the situation.
He was right. They came out, actually - if hesitantly - holding hands. He emitted a low growl when he saw the man. There was no need for recollection - he had that face engraved into his entire being. This man who should have understood. This man who was led astray and turned away from The Truth.
This man who had nearly killed him with no good reason on his side.
He resisted the urge to attack him, knowing how futile that would be. Never had he been the equal of the guy, even three years ago. And his prey's strength had increased greatly, if the telltale evidence in his movements were any indication. And that girl, that braided girl who walked beside him, wearing wariness but also an almost disgusting happiness, seemed nearly as strong. No, fighting was not an option. Not yet. Not until he had a plan. Today he would just follow. So he did.
It was a relatively frisky evening, but unlike some of the Italian and other foreign passerbies and bystanders, the cold did not bother him. In three years, it had become like an old friend...
He resisted the urge to scream as the two stopped on the way of their destination, pointing this or that way, making comments. The happiness that was underlying each gesture, the damn, slippery, illusiory, crass contentement. Fools, BOTH of them. Happiness was an illusion in this world, couldn't they see that?!? Poor, stupid lost lambs they were. But he calmed down. Watch. Today he would watch.
They finally stopped at a quain little restaurant. They looked at the place - two-storied, white-bricked, cheerful looking - and entered. He had no wish to follow-up. That jerk would recognise him, probably try to kill him again. He wanted to be the one doing the killing. He already had a plant for the other two traitors who had ruined his crusade and his life. But that one was the hardest, and the one he wanted to hurt the most.
A man aproached him from the side, and he flicked an eye towards him. Filthy, in clothes that were patched and had seen better days. Unshaved face, hollow eyes. Someone who had been betrayed by society, like so many other people. He thrust a very weathered hat in his direction, showinf a little bit of money within.
"La carità, por favor, signore." he said humbly.
Charity. Yes he could do that one thing here. He fished in his pockets, got some change out and dumped it into the hat. He continued on without acknowledging the man anymore, feeling the iciness inside of him let up a little. It wouldn't last long, he knew, but at least he could enjoy it a little bit. He went to the nearest café and bought himself some coffee, looking at the nearby patrons without seeming too as he reflected on what he should do. He took out a sheet of paper, looked at it grimly. It had only three names inscribed on it.
Alex Strongarm, Nathan McIntyre, Jeremy Storm
During the past three years, the memories of his past life had faded as the cold, righteous rage took hold of him more and more. But these three people, he had never forgotten. Even when he doubted his own name, he had never forgotten them. These three had brought ruin to whom he had been, by conniving against him, by refusing to see The Truth. He had been betrayed, yes, betrayed by these three.
He would make them pay. And then he could restart his Holy Crusade.
He had already thought about Alex's case. He had examined the man quietly, and had found him too powerful to attack directly, as well. But that mattered little. He had found another way to get to this one. He smiled. A very fitting way, and one that would ultimately fit his purpose for the future. He could hardly wait to act it out.
McIntyre...strangely, he felt the man had already been punished by someone else for something he'd done. A subtle thing, but it was there, under the surface, bidding its time, ready to tear at the man's soul. He was damned and did not even know it yet. A fitting end, he felt. No, nothing against him. He was going to do enough to himself eventually.
But this last one, this Jeremy, he was the most important, the one he had to hurt the deepest. He just hadn't found a way to do so yet
How long did he stare at these pictures? He couldn't realistically say. A while, surely, for by the time he looked away from it, his targets were exiting the restaurant and the patrons in the café were starting to squirm, giving him quick, alarmed looks. They meant nothing. He ignored him. He paid for what he'd taken and left hurriedly. Fortunately, they were walking leisuredly, and he saw Jeremy rub his stomach once or twice. As he watched this, a memory stirred from the nether where he had confined them.
"Oh, man. Every time I eat Italian, my tummy hurts."
"Moron. You should just take something else."
"No way! The taste more than makes up for it!"
The memory fled before he could grasp it, leving behind only a warm and begone wave of happiness that was no longer his. He had cut himself from that. All that mattered now was The Truth. And the Crusade.
They suddenly stopped and started to speak. The area was deserted. Having no wishes to be detected, the man swiftly slunk into the shadows and strained his ears to listen, hoping the conversation would prove informative, or at least entertaining.
* * * * * * * * * *
At the same time...
Cammy looked from her indigestion-fighting partner to the street around them. Although her scan was quick and a bit careless, she saw no one. Good, she was nervous enough as it was. She did not want to make a number before a crowd of strangers. Still. she felt she would have done it, to spare them both. She cleared her throat. No effect. The man was probably cursing himself for liking pastas so much right now. So she took the direct approach.
"Jer?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
She licked her lips, coughed. This was the hard part, the conversation she just didn't want to screw off. But no words came to bring the topic, no good reason seemed to present itself. So she opted for the only thing that might take her into this safely enough.
"I...I heard your conversation with Rose. I'd been back to ask her something and overheard." she blurted.
He stiffened, his face paling and showing definite anxiety. His stomach problems most probably forgotten, he gave her an hesitant grin and turned away, walking away a few steps, taking deep breaths. Cammy bit her lip, knowing the battle was on right this moment.
"Was it true?" she asked. "What you said?"
Still he gave no answer, but looked elsewhere, anywhere but at her. But she had to make things clear, she owed him this.
"Do you really...r-really love me like you said?" she asked again, trying to bring the quaver of her voice off.
Another fit of rigidity. The man put an hand on his face and exhaled, seemingly at a loss. She wished to say more, to force something from him, but decided against it. He had to answer something if she was to continue with this unstable discussion. She tried not to show nervousness as he collected himself. He finally turned to her again, trying to keep his face expressionless. He needn't have bothered, for the anguish was ever-present.
"I...everything I said...its..." he choked "Its all true." he paused, his lips quivering "I-if you don't agree, if y-you don't feel that way - why should you, after all, I punched you once, r-r-remember? I'm so sorry about that - anyway, I'll...I'll understand." That was nothing but a blaring lie, but knowing him, she knew it must have cost him everything to tell that last sentence. She looked at him, shocked for a moment, and then a strange thing happened. Anger, joy and sorrow combined and she stepped forward and slapped him lightly.
"Y-you stupid..." she said, holding back the tears, "What the hell do you think I am? You think I CARE about that lousy punch? Yes, you're right, I do remember you punching me. And it hurt me like HELL inside. I felt like I was nothing!" his face turned away, but she reached out and cupped it, forcing him to look at her. She had to let this out while her voice remained steady "But I remember other things, too, more important things! I remember a young man smiling at me when others in SCD still treated me either like a Shadowlaw agent or, worse, as a doll. I remember someone who treated me like I human being when I wasn't even sure of it myself. I...I remember a soothing, caring voice when I came back from that Shadowlaw lab." she sniffled "I r-r-remember...I remember a man who was there, when I woke up terrified, a man who just cared, who didn't think less of me, who helped me get better! I loved that man!" she closed her eyes, her throat dry, her eyes full of tears. "That man was you, Jeremy!"
She let her head fall down and let the flood of emotions file out. She was glad she had said this. It had hurt, it had been so very hard, but she had wanted to say this for so long. She didn't see Jer's expression in the end, but she felt him tremble, then take hold of her hands with fingers that normally were deft and quick, but were right now weak, shaking and hesitant. She opened her eyes to see that he, too, was crying.
"I..."
He stopped as a sob tore through him. He stilled it with all of his will, and finally managed to speak again.
"When I learned that Bison had taken you again, I...I didn't know what to d-do. All I could think about was that the bastard had taken you, and I was nowhere near to help you, all of that because of a stupid wounded pride! I should have been there for you!"
She gave his hands a squeeze. "Bison would have killed you, if you'd been there. And then I'd actually have WANTED to be a doll again, because life would have been damn unbearable."
He shook his head "Still, I only though that...that I'd failed you. I'd let you go without a fight, without hope. I wanted to kill the bastard right then, but I hated myself far more." he his face crumbled completely then. The proud, strong warrior let go of his last inhibitions, revealing a very young man who had felt far too much in his life. "When I saw what they'd done..it was...i-i-if he ever lays a finger on you again, I'll kill Bison. I-I-I don't c-care how strong he is, I-I-I'll find a way...t-t-to..."
That's when she heard this heartfelt vow, this tearful confession, that something snapped within Cammy White. The love she had felt until now surged through her, making her forget her past pains, her past sorrows. Nervously, with gentleness, she disengaged her hands, brought his face closer, and kissed him, pressing her lips against his. There was a fixed moment when there was no response, but then he gave a shuddering sigh, and kissed her back, his own arms encircling her waist and giving her a loving hug that she returned as best she could, feeling the warmth coming from him even throught her coat. Finally they broke the kiss, but their embrace remained.
Jeremy looked at her with caring grey eyes that shone with unshed tears. "Cammy, don't...don't leave me again."
She tightened her hug a little. "I'll try not to...my love."
How strange these two words felt. She'd never spoken them before, to any man. No one had ever made that close, that intimate a bond with her before. Yes, these words were strange.
But they were so very fitting. For tonight she felt fully human again for the first time.
Tonight, she had found back her soul.
* * * * * * * * * *
Five minutes later...
The man was making his way out of the area where the two new lovers were. He was completely disgusted. He'd heard just about everyword, and had gagged at some of the sentences. What foolish, sentimental nonsense! What a weakling the man - his own cousin, no? - had become. And that woman! No better. What rubbish and ridicule. Love! Fah! Illusiory nonsense that may fool such people, but not him. For he knew The Truth.
And The Truth was all.
Love. It didn't stop the betrayals. Only violence did. Love was peace, and peace was an illusion. But there was some good to it, no? If Jeremy believed in what he was feeling, he might leave himself open. And that would give him the chance he needed. No longer would he play by the faded rules that had bound him three years ago.
A lifetime ago.
He smiled a cold smile. "Relish what remains of your reprieve, Betrayer." he said icily "The time will soon come for True Justice." Oh yes. It would happen. Not yet, not yet.
But soon.
Oh, yes, soon.
_______________________________________________________________
Hello! Hope you'll like this chap! Its sappy, I know, but I just had to put that part in! So, Cammy and Jeremy are finally lovers! What do you say about it? Please give me feedback, guys, I'd love to know your opinion!
Next chapter: A new war. A deepening relationship and a new one! Stay tuned, its gonna be a blast! ^_^
Jeremy
By Jeremy
Chapter 18
October 2, 1997
"This isn't going to be pleasant."
"She brought this upon herself, and more than deserves it."
"I'm not doubting that, lad. Just stating a fact."
"A truthful one. But this was the rule here, and I'll follow my old friend's rules here."
This exchange, given in a rather nervous but determined tone, took place between Giorgio Castillo, Acting Commander of SCD, James Wolfman, Commander of MI6 and Mark Culhen, Communication and Electronics Specialist. Of the three, Mark was the least thrilled about what was about to happen. Not surprising: first, because since he had arrested her, he would be most directly responsible for what she would go through, and secondly, both Wolfman and Castillo were angry on a far more personal level than he was. He did not blame either. He just wished that he was quite elsewhere. Jeremy had refused, but that was a taken: he was ever at Cammy's side, helping her recuperate from her wounds.
They made their way to the holding cells below SCD HQ. Here nothing was amiss, nothing denoted the terrible battle that had gone on and cost so much for this compound. They made their way to one particular cell, where three guards worked as sentries. Giorgio gave a short nod, then asked if the traitor had outfitted herself.
"No, sir." explained the oldest soldier "She's been refusing to wear it, supposedly because it's not, and I quote here 'not a nice colour.'"
This did NOT please Giorgio who, since the raid on the Shadowlaw Base and Julia's severe wounding in the battle in England, had an hair-trigger temper about the traitor. He gestured to the three soldiers.
"Go in there, all three of you and have her put it on! FORCE her if you have to, I care not. And tell her that she'd be better off not bringing me in there! Now go."
The three men saluted, one worked on the numeric sequence that allowed the door to open, and all three went in. The door hissed shut behing them, and the three men waited. They waited a long time, more than ten nerve-wracking minutes, and Giorgio was just deciding to carry out his previous threat, when the door hissed open again, and the three men that had gone. Between to of them came the traitor that had crippled SCD.
Nemmi Shiwasa, who had helped, by her manipulations and hacking talents, the recapture of Cammy White by Shadowlaw and the bloody Headquarters Battle, Was standing between the guards as if this was a normal day, despite her manacled wrists, the flow of blood that oozed from her lips - obviously she had put up quite a fight, and the costume she was wearing. An ugly costume it was, to be sure. A brownish green, skin-tight, it covered her whole body except her head. The suit was criss-crossed by dark-blue filaments that ended in electric and electronic stumps. Mark, who had helped design the thing, no quite well what it could do. And althought he had no pity for the bitch - he lost friends too, in the attack - but he didn't like it.
She gave a bloody smirk to Giorgio. "Why, Acting Commander. What a promotion Giorgio. But I thought Simmons was to be Brisby appointed successor." she then let off a laugh. Mark saw his friend's eyes harden, but nothing more. He waved them all to follow and they did, even Wolfman, who in fact had the superior rank. They all did, the guards pushing Nemmi along. The scot saw her face, read litle fear, and guessed she knew nothing about what she would soon face. If she did, she would be struggling mightily.
They came to a room, one that was kept well but hadn't been used in over six years, barely three months after Mark had joined SCD. A time Mark had wished never to repeat.
The group entered. The room was small, filled with computers lining two walls and a restraining chair. This chair had many electric and electronic cables attached to it, and there was a strange helmet arraged in the same fashion as the suit the traitor was wearing. Two SCD technicians were operating the computers as they entered, and turned to face the new arrivals.
Giorgio was in no mood to waste time with formalities. "Is the program ready to play."
"Yes, sir. All will be redirected throught the helmet and the suit."
"W-what the hell is this?" asked Nemmi. Mark supposed she wanted to appear a mixture of angry and disgusted, but there was a fear to her that fooled no one.
"You'll find out." stated Wolfman with a neutral expression. "Strap her in."
The soldiers did their best to do just that, but now Nemmi had a certain idea of what they could do with such a device. She didn't like what she imagined, obviously, for she put up a good fight, using her superior Elite training and coupled with desperate energy, and causing the the three men to have much trouble. Finally Giorgio waded in, followed by a reluctant Mark. The two Elite pushed the soldiers aside, and, after a while, managed to sit her down. Giorgio held her down with the strength and determination of a veteran soldier, while Mark strapped each foot, and then each hand. After they did so, the technicians started connecting the cables to the stumps on the suit. She stopped struggling as she did so, staring at the three officers in a mixture of helpless rage and utter terror. Mark barely managed to keep his expression neutral, while Castillo and Wolfman were utterlu unflappable. The spanish came forward, formally.
"Nemmi Shiwasa, you have been found guilty of treason that caused the death or crippling of key SCD personel. What say you?"
"You have been found guilty of illegal sequestering and illegal trial measures." she spat back. "What say YOU?"
Giorgio nodded, as if he knew the answer he'd be given - and who was to say? Maybe he did - and gestured to the soldiers. They came forward and put the brownish helmet on, connecting cables. As it was, only her mouth was visible in the end.
"Any last words?" he asked.
"Yeah." she said, trying to control her fear "SCD sucks. You all suck!" she fairly screeched.
He nodded absently, as if agreeing. "Start the S.I.D Program." The technicians pushed a button.
They could see little of Nemmi's face, only her mouth. For a moment it retained its air of desperate defiance, then she gasped, tried to recover. It was clear a great strain was taking root within her. She tried to hide it by biting her lips, hard, until blood started flowing from them, but finally couldn't hold back a whimper. Her body jerked. The whimper became more pronounced. Still they all watched, all as impassive as they could get themselves to be. The whimpers stayed on for a minute or two, and then it started.
"Nhh...no...no, not that...no...no! NO! PLEASE, NOT THAT! STOP PLEASE! DOOON'T! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! AHAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
Mark couldn't help but hang his head a little. If Jeremy had been here, he probably would have been shocked and repulsed by what they were doing. Just as well he was going on vacation to Italy with Cammy. They didn't need another voice on their conscience right now. They were elite soldiers, but this had nothing to do with battle. Wolfman, beside him, listened to the incresingly hysterical pleas and scream, and stuntered to him.
"Brisby called it 'The Shame and Need of SCD, and I can understand why now! But, I must admit I'm not really sure of what it does."
Mark sighed. He did not wish to explain. But Wolfman had given an order, and he deserved to know. "The system is an bioelectronic device, worked out by our best engineers utilising ground work made by doctors and scientists that worked on brain waves. The computers transmits a frightening or abusive situation, passing them on after the other, until the subcouncious responds to one. Then the computers utilise their programs to augment the intensity of the experience, making it worse and worse."
Wolfman nodded, only his eyes showed a pity when he looked at the suffering Nemmi. "The suit itself?"
"Designed to give the body the sight, smell, hearing and physical impression of the situation. The person is there, as far as she knows. There's no escape." he paused, swallowed hard "All the while we ask questions durinmg the event - yes-no questions, which gives us much data on the organisation the traitor worked for for example. Eventually the mind can't take it anymore. It breaks down into insanity, than incohent horror. And then...it shuts itself off. When it does, the computers give out an electric charge that stops the heart. Its the perfect way to kill - no trace, no proof, no nothing."
Nemmi's screams increased in intensity, and Giorgio finally turned to them as well. He had overheard, of course. "Yes. Although we follow the law for most matters, we ARE almost as bad as Shadowlaw when it comes to traitors." he gave a wry, sickened smile "Maybe that's why we fight them - we have at least something in common: we don't forgive." he stopped, listened to the screams for a second. "Come. This will go on for a while. Lets go back to somewhere I won't feel like a complete monster." he turned to leave. Everyone followed.
As he left, Mark heard Nemmi scream out in her delirium, a sentence that would haunt him every time he would think about the incident.
"NOOOWAHHHHH! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MEEEE?"
Why, indeed? Beyond the reasons they officially gave, what could it be, except simple, wicked, WARPED vengeance.
* * * * * * * * * *
One month later...
"I can see him, looking at me, his eyes showing scorn and cruelty, his whole face a smirking facade. I...I try to give him back that glare, pound for pound. But I can't, not really. I'm scared, I'm scared and he sees that, he feels it. So he laughs at me, as if I'd just told him a great dirty joke. I mean nothing to him, nothing at all. He tells me he's glad to have found me again, but its said in the tone of someone finding a useful toy again. I feel pitiful, small, but I tell myself I'd rather die than show it, even though my hands are shackled upward, my wrist burning, my shoulders straining, even though there'd be nothing I could do against him, even if I was free. And he knows it, knows what I'm trying to hold on to."
"His smirk grows bigger, and the hate I feel just goes along with it. It burns me, I spit at him, curse him, and he all takes it all in stride. I'm starting to feel his presence, inside my head, mocking me. I feel like screaming, but choke it out. I don't want to give in to him, not now, not ever again! And then he reached out with that big hand of his and stroke my cheek. I couldn't bear it, I felt like dying, and I reacted. I used my chained hands to push myself upward and jammed my feet in his genitals. It hit, really did. And it hurt him. I felt a mad flash of triumph, a sense of exultation at the fact that I'd hurt him, for once! But it was short-lived. He...he looked back at me with an deformed, furious face, and hit me in the face. I felt numb, it was like being hit by a pole or such. I felt a coppery taste in my mouth. Then another punch, in my stomach, making me want to puke, and then another, and another. I try not to scream but the pain's so much too much, I can't take it. I finally cry out, and still he hits me. This goes on for I don't know how long, and then he stops. I think maybe he's had enough for this time, but I'm wrong. He's had enough of beating me up. But not enough of ME."
"I...he started tearing off my clothes. I tried to resist it, sure, but tied up, what could I do. My strength was out, I hurt everywhere! I cursed him openly, but it only brought me another fist in the gut. Then he started touching me, roughly, everywhere. No gentleness, no comapssion, no nothing. This was just to humiliate me, to break me, and I felt a new pain, inside me, because he was raping me and I knew, I knew and I couldn't do a thing about it! And then I felt him slide inside with strength. It hurt! It hurt! And his voice spoke in my head, taunting, triumphant, filled with cruelty! And I couldn't help it, I begged, BEGGED him to stop, please, I couldn't take it, but he wouldn't...he..."
"Wake up, dear."
Cammy opened her eyes, slightly dizzy, left with a bitter taste in her mouth but not much else, and stared at Rose, who was gently looking back, her eyes filled with sadness. She took it that she had seen much the same things as with the other psychic mind-reads, and her heart sank at the realisation.
It was Jeremy who had nearly begged her to see the wise, mysterious woman again, and try out the psychic help. She was still against it at that time, but she had had so many nightmares about what had happened with Bison and his band that she started to consider it, and, finally, had accepted to devote the vacation Giorgio had just about forced upon them to dealing with the mental scars she carried. They had tracked down Rose to her private residence, only three miles outside the city of Venice, and it had taken only a little talk for the lavender-haired woman to accept to attempt a therapy. So far it had helped in the fact that the nightmares were coming more rarely, but nothing else yet. She still felt that fear at the back of her mind.
"What happened, Rose?" she inquired.
A soft sigh. "What usually happens in such cases: your subcouncious mind is filled with your experience with Bison, ever present - his work, of course."
"We've been at this for two weeks! How can I rid myself of this nightmare?!?"
Rose considered. "I would normally say that time would heal all things, but Bison arranged for this sentence to be hollow. The psychic imprint is strong, and would need a psychic attack - A dangerous procedure, and I wish not to risk it yet, and never without your consent."
Cammy nodded. "I got it. I'll think about it. Look at the time! Sorry to do this, but Jer said he'd wait for me for breakfast, and he's a pain when he waits too long."
Rose smiled. "Then go, dear. We'll see each other soon, to try again, or at least talk about what we could do."
The braided SCD woman grabbed her coat, only slightly wincing as her still-fragile body violently protested against the sudden movement. Still she went out of the nice, well-built house hurriedly, when she stopped and smacked her forehead. Jeremy had asked her to ask Rose about which shop in Venice baked the best cinammon pies - his personal poison. Although she would have shrugged this off normally, she just had to imagine Jer's slight disappointed look to turn on her heel and reenter the house. She opened the door soundlessly, and was about to politely call out, when she heard a male voice speaking. A voice she knew.
"...to help, huh?"
Jer's voice! What was he doing here? She'd just been there, how could he have entered the place without she noticing? Unless...unless he'd been here all along. She strained her ears and listened closely. Rose was speaking.
"I know that well, Jeremy. But there is nothing else I can do for her. Not the way I am doing it, certainly. And the other ways are blocked until she asks for them. The main help, young man, will have to come from you."
That seemed to fluster the man, although Cammy couldn't see him from her position. "I...I don't see what I could do. I've heard what Bison did - seen its results myself - from her own mouth, and from what I heard, there's little I can do. The problem's psychic-"
"The problem," cut in Rose, a triffle impatiently, "Is in her mind. To conteract it, you need something of equal weight as a base. And that, dear youth, you have."
"And that is?"
"Your love for her."
Cammy froze for a moment, not believing her ears. What was Rose thinking?!? Was she trying to unnerve the man or something? She frankly couldn't believe her ears. She expected to hear embarassment or, worse, a denial. However, neither came, and the young woman was surprised to hear the man sigh in resignation.
"People really can't lie to you, huh, madam Rose?" he said softly, his voice introspective. "Yes, I love her. There's no one I love more in this world. But how do I know she has the same feelings?"
"Simple observation of facts. Ever since...the incident and her recovery, she has been with you as much as she could. Her mood, usually wary, bordering on depressive, becomes lively and filled with quiet joy when she even mentions you. Believe me, child, you mean much to her. You should tell her. It might help her."
"Or push her away." his voice trembled slightly "And if...if that happened, it would kill me. So I can't speak out. Not yet."
Cammy slowly closed the door, the request about a bakery utterly forgotten. Her mind was having a field day dishing out emotions at her. She was angry, because of the man's spying. She was distraught by the fact they talked about her behind her back. But these were the minor emotions, those that held very little place right now. Two emotions had center seat, and she mentally danced back and forth between the two.
The first was shame. She had heard Jeremy's evident lack of certainty about her feelings towards him, and she knew why it was so. Always, when she was with him, she'd never show much joy, and never any real affection. She was nice with him, as nice as she could bring herself to be right now. But how to explain that each time she saw him, she felt a warm, fuzzy thing inside her. That when he had gently stroked her hair during the first, horrible few days that followed her liberation, that she had felt safe, and that the nightmares always receded. She loved him, she was quite certain of that.
She just couldn't bring herself to really show it. Hence the shame.
And the other feeling. It had come to her very clearly, had made her head feel light for a few moments. When he had admitted his love, she had started to feel it. But it was one sentence that made it felt fully.
'There's no one I love more in this world.' He had said it with so much sincerity, so much affection in his voice. It could only be the truth. Thinking about it, a tear rolled down her cheek, and she allowed herself a tentative smile. Yes, she recognised that emotion, even though she and it had been so out of touch until he arrived in her life.
Joy. That was it. Pure, unadulterated JOY.
Suddenly, she felt it was time to set things right. Very soon. Somehow. She'd just need a place, an occasion...
...and a whole lot of guts.
* * * * * * * * * *
Thirty minutes later...
"...so there I was, stuck between Allied tanks and Axis infantry, those bastards bombing the fields and making so much noise I though I'd go deaf! Did you know what I did then, son?"
Jeremy barely stiffled a yawn. "No, sir? What did you do?" he asked, although he'd been told the story fifty times already before.
"I went getting my ol' man, told him about the war at our door, of course! We fled before the two bands of thugs history so proudly calls 'armies' could come to blow." he shook a scrawny finger. "Remember that son: the best way to win a war is not doin' any to begin with. Remember that!"
Although the young man nodded as if he been given some holy edict, inwardly he sighed in boredom. This wasn't the first time he'd come to Venice while working for SCD, and each this old man - Linus Esfratta - caught him and mired him in stories of the devastation that World War Two had caused to Italy. The problem was the old guy always seemed to forget which story he had told, and went on repeating it. It was the second time he'd told that one just now, and he was getting tired.
He still felt that telling Rose about his feelings was a bit premature, but he had felt it was better this way. He knew lying to a psychic was impossible, anyway. Actually, it had felt good, telling it to somebody who understood, at least in part. He only wondered how he could ever tell Cammy herself and how she'd take it. He felt there was something they shared, but was it love for both?
And Rose herself, what an enigma that woman was! Ever since Julia had introduced him to her a few months after he joined the SCD, she had been extremely willing to help him in particular, even more than Julia, who was a real friend. Today, just before going through the shortcuts that would take him to the room Cammy and he shared before she arrived to find him gone, he'd ask why out of curiosity. And she'd smiled that oh-so irritating smile of hers and given him a picture as an answer. Out of irritation and questionning, he fished it out of his pockets and examined it, momentarily forgetting the man next to him.
The picture was that of a woman holding a baby in her arms, smiling a cheerful smile at the camera, the baby itself pointing at whoever was taking the picture. The woman had black hair, pulled in a ponytail, was shapely and definitely held a sort of elegance hampered only by the slightly clumsy way she held the babe. Too tight, as if not to drop him. Not her child, certainly. The child itself was dressed in a blue cotton suit with white...little...horses...wait a minute, weren't there a photograph of himself dressed in a smiliar suit.
"Well, if it isn't miss Rose. You know her, son?" said Esfratta, making Jer jump. He'd forgotten the old man was still there. He blinked, looked at the man, then at the photograph, and had the sudden wish to smash his head into a wall for such blindness. It was true. The woman WAS Rose herself. He'd been thrown off by the hair colour, the hairstyler, and mostly by the immensely cheery face she wore, instead of the kind, reserved mien he knew. But...but then, if it was her, was it HIM? Probably, judging it was supposed to answer his question. But beyond the fact that she'd seen him as baby, what could it all mean? He didn't have a ready answer, and it irked him. Ever he had disliked unsolved mysteries.
"Jer? Jer! Earth to Jeremy Storm, come in!" said a female voice.
He snapped out of his puzzled, stunned reverie to face have a finger snap right in his face. Not expecting it, the grey-eyed man stumbled backward, his arms flailing the air for a moment in fashion that most have made him look like an utter fool, and fell on his behind unceremoniously and painfully. He cursed for a moment, then looked upward to see Cammy standing there, in a heavy coat, her arm extended and a rather sheepish look on her face. Next to her, old Esfratta was shaking his head, as if saying 'kids these days.' He was probably right, too.
"Err...sorry." she said, with an embarrassed half-smile "Didn't know you'd react like that."
He groaned in answer, and got up to his feet. The old man chuckled as he dusted his back rapidly.
"You young folk, always jumping at shadows. Well, I'm off. Time to give these old bones a rest."
They bid him good day - Jeremy had difficulty keeping the relief off his voice - and they left toward their hotel, walikng through italian-speaking passerbies. He found himself under the scrutiny of just aboutr every young italian women they passed, and he squirmed under some of the gazes. He sometimes felt they thought him a delicioud piece of candy and, like hungry people are won't to do when hungry, tear unto him. Very frightening image that. He pushed it out of his imagination rapidly, only to find Cammy under the same scrutiny from the male population. She was dealing with it better, however, as she didn't even looked back. Not that she would. Not right now, not after all that had happened to her. He tried to break off this sudden foul mood.
"Hum, well. How was it, at Rose's place? Any progress?" he inquired, although he knew already from Rose herself. So he was a little disturbed when she gave him a strange, disquieting look and a slow nod.
"I came to understand a few important things there." she stated cryptically.
He raised his eyebrows. No explosion. No rant. No despair. There was nothing in her voice that was usual when she came back from one of these sessions. And Rose had told her there'd been no real changes. What could those important things be? He tried to be casual about it, but found himself unable to resist asking.
"Hum, what important things?"
And then she smiled. A shy smile, an uncertain one, but he was but shocked and overjoyed to see it. It had been so rare, these past few weeks, to see her smile, at anything. This act was enough to have him dance on a cloud for the rest of the day, at least! It was a miracle he didn't give off a goofy grin in answer, but glad too; it would have ruined the mood.
"You already know about them." she answered softly.
O-kay, now he REALLY felt confused. Since when did he make any remarquable discovery, anything that seemed important? Well, whatever it was, it musn't have been something that had struck him. Or maybe he wasn't thinking the right way? Arg, nevermind! He thrusted the confusion away as best he could, enjoying her relative good mood. She seemed to await no answer, so he gave none. They walked silently for a while.
Then she stopped, her face giving the impression she was taking some kind of important decision. Left with the choice of stopping or continuing alone, he stopped as well, feeling like some lamb and not caring.
"Do you..." she coughed, stopped.
"Yes?" he prodded gently.
"Do you want to...go out tonight?"
His breath caught for a moment, and he choked, nearly strangling himself. When he could see properly - not to mention speak - he looked back at her, found her staring at him in what could be a mixture of apprehension and amusement. Feeling much like a fool, he flushed in embarassment and found his voice quickly.
"G-g-g-go out? As in...t-t-the two o-of us?" he stammered.
"Yes." her voice no longer seemed hesitant. Her decision seemed made. "Do you want to?"
Did he WANT to?!? Did trees grow? Did the sun rise every morning? He felt like laughing, like crying, like doing something flashy or otherwise ridiculous. But he did nothing of that. He only smiled happily, and nodded. Her own face seemed to flush with emotions he couldn't define right then, and she resumed walking. "Rose told me of a very good place. Let's try it, okay?"
"Sure!"
"Oh, by the way...weren't you going to do breakfast this morning?"
He had completely forgotten that. But he answered readily enough. "I was thinking about pancakes, is that okay?"
She went stiff for amoment, her face taking a vaguely alarmed expression. "Pancakes?" she asked in near-horror.
"Ah well, yes. Why?"
"The last time you tried pancakes, you nearly blew up our room. Or have you forgotten?" she asked ironically.
"Oh. Hehe." he scratched the back of his head, nervously "Err....w-well...eggs...eggs I can do."
"As long as you don't put the eggshells along with the eggs."
He raised his eyebrows in mock indignation. "I'll have you know I make the best scrambled eggs there are! To DARE think I'd stoop so low as to..."
He stopped with a squaking sound when her hand gently took his. He returned the gesture, but was too dumfounded to do more than stare. This was a clear-cut novelty. What was happening to her today?
"Eggs are fine." she said, giving his hand a slight squeeze.
And not for the last time this day, Jeremy Storm nodded, dumbfounded but happy. Surreally happy.
He couldn't wait until tonight.
* * * * * * * * * *
That evening...
Rage.
That's what he felt. But not one which burned, or seared the soul. It was one that left one cold and hollow, left one wanting for more. It was an emotion few men would want to live with for too long. No more than a day, never a month. For this was something that offered nothing at all to its holder.
He had been feeling the cold rage for three years, and he loved it, for it defined his being, his purpose and his goals with utter clarity. Some of his goals were noble, he knew it for certain. Some were less so, he was just as certain. They were necessary, however. And that was why he had waited. And was still waiting. He'd heard them talking today. They should be coming out of that building anytime now. Or about. Soon, certainly. Doesn't matter, he'd wait until they showed up. He wanted to look at them more closely. Understand the situation.
He was right. They came out, actually - if hesitantly - holding hands. He emitted a low growl when he saw the man. There was no need for recollection - he had that face engraved into his entire being. This man who should have understood. This man who was led astray and turned away from The Truth.
This man who had nearly killed him with no good reason on his side.
He resisted the urge to attack him, knowing how futile that would be. Never had he been the equal of the guy, even three years ago. And his prey's strength had increased greatly, if the telltale evidence in his movements were any indication. And that girl, that braided girl who walked beside him, wearing wariness but also an almost disgusting happiness, seemed nearly as strong. No, fighting was not an option. Not yet. Not until he had a plan. Today he would just follow. So he did.
It was a relatively frisky evening, but unlike some of the Italian and other foreign passerbies and bystanders, the cold did not bother him. In three years, it had become like an old friend...
He resisted the urge to scream as the two stopped on the way of their destination, pointing this or that way, making comments. The happiness that was underlying each gesture, the damn, slippery, illusiory, crass contentement. Fools, BOTH of them. Happiness was an illusion in this world, couldn't they see that?!? Poor, stupid lost lambs they were. But he calmed down. Watch. Today he would watch.
They finally stopped at a quain little restaurant. They looked at the place - two-storied, white-bricked, cheerful looking - and entered. He had no wish to follow-up. That jerk would recognise him, probably try to kill him again. He wanted to be the one doing the killing. He already had a plant for the other two traitors who had ruined his crusade and his life. But that one was the hardest, and the one he wanted to hurt the most.
A man aproached him from the side, and he flicked an eye towards him. Filthy, in clothes that were patched and had seen better days. Unshaved face, hollow eyes. Someone who had been betrayed by society, like so many other people. He thrust a very weathered hat in his direction, showinf a little bit of money within.
"La carità, por favor, signore." he said humbly.
Charity. Yes he could do that one thing here. He fished in his pockets, got some change out and dumped it into the hat. He continued on without acknowledging the man anymore, feeling the iciness inside of him let up a little. It wouldn't last long, he knew, but at least he could enjoy it a little bit. He went to the nearest café and bought himself some coffee, looking at the nearby patrons without seeming too as he reflected on what he should do. He took out a sheet of paper, looked at it grimly. It had only three names inscribed on it.
Alex Strongarm, Nathan McIntyre, Jeremy Storm
During the past three years, the memories of his past life had faded as the cold, righteous rage took hold of him more and more. But these three people, he had never forgotten. Even when he doubted his own name, he had never forgotten them. These three had brought ruin to whom he had been, by conniving against him, by refusing to see The Truth. He had been betrayed, yes, betrayed by these three.
He would make them pay. And then he could restart his Holy Crusade.
He had already thought about Alex's case. He had examined the man quietly, and had found him too powerful to attack directly, as well. But that mattered little. He had found another way to get to this one. He smiled. A very fitting way, and one that would ultimately fit his purpose for the future. He could hardly wait to act it out.
McIntyre...strangely, he felt the man had already been punished by someone else for something he'd done. A subtle thing, but it was there, under the surface, bidding its time, ready to tear at the man's soul. He was damned and did not even know it yet. A fitting end, he felt. No, nothing against him. He was going to do enough to himself eventually.
But this last one, this Jeremy, he was the most important, the one he had to hurt the deepest. He just hadn't found a way to do so yet
How long did he stare at these pictures? He couldn't realistically say. A while, surely, for by the time he looked away from it, his targets were exiting the restaurant and the patrons in the café were starting to squirm, giving him quick, alarmed looks. They meant nothing. He ignored him. He paid for what he'd taken and left hurriedly. Fortunately, they were walking leisuredly, and he saw Jeremy rub his stomach once or twice. As he watched this, a memory stirred from the nether where he had confined them.
"Oh, man. Every time I eat Italian, my tummy hurts."
"Moron. You should just take something else."
"No way! The taste more than makes up for it!"
The memory fled before he could grasp it, leving behind only a warm and begone wave of happiness that was no longer his. He had cut himself from that. All that mattered now was The Truth. And the Crusade.
They suddenly stopped and started to speak. The area was deserted. Having no wishes to be detected, the man swiftly slunk into the shadows and strained his ears to listen, hoping the conversation would prove informative, or at least entertaining.
* * * * * * * * * *
At the same time...
Cammy looked from her indigestion-fighting partner to the street around them. Although her scan was quick and a bit careless, she saw no one. Good, she was nervous enough as it was. She did not want to make a number before a crowd of strangers. Still. she felt she would have done it, to spare them both. She cleared her throat. No effect. The man was probably cursing himself for liking pastas so much right now. So she took the direct approach.
"Jer?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
She licked her lips, coughed. This was the hard part, the conversation she just didn't want to screw off. But no words came to bring the topic, no good reason seemed to present itself. So she opted for the only thing that might take her into this safely enough.
"I...I heard your conversation with Rose. I'd been back to ask her something and overheard." she blurted.
He stiffened, his face paling and showing definite anxiety. His stomach problems most probably forgotten, he gave her an hesitant grin and turned away, walking away a few steps, taking deep breaths. Cammy bit her lip, knowing the battle was on right this moment.
"Was it true?" she asked. "What you said?"
Still he gave no answer, but looked elsewhere, anywhere but at her. But she had to make things clear, she owed him this.
"Do you really...r-really love me like you said?" she asked again, trying to bring the quaver of her voice off.
Another fit of rigidity. The man put an hand on his face and exhaled, seemingly at a loss. She wished to say more, to force something from him, but decided against it. He had to answer something if she was to continue with this unstable discussion. She tried not to show nervousness as he collected himself. He finally turned to her again, trying to keep his face expressionless. He needn't have bothered, for the anguish was ever-present.
"I...everything I said...its..." he choked "Its all true." he paused, his lips quivering "I-if you don't agree, if y-you don't feel that way - why should you, after all, I punched you once, r-r-remember? I'm so sorry about that - anyway, I'll...I'll understand." That was nothing but a blaring lie, but knowing him, she knew it must have cost him everything to tell that last sentence. She looked at him, shocked for a moment, and then a strange thing happened. Anger, joy and sorrow combined and she stepped forward and slapped him lightly.
"Y-you stupid..." she said, holding back the tears, "What the hell do you think I am? You think I CARE about that lousy punch? Yes, you're right, I do remember you punching me. And it hurt me like HELL inside. I felt like I was nothing!" his face turned away, but she reached out and cupped it, forcing him to look at her. She had to let this out while her voice remained steady "But I remember other things, too, more important things! I remember a young man smiling at me when others in SCD still treated me either like a Shadowlaw agent or, worse, as a doll. I remember someone who treated me like I human being when I wasn't even sure of it myself. I...I remember a soothing, caring voice when I came back from that Shadowlaw lab." she sniffled "I r-r-remember...I remember a man who was there, when I woke up terrified, a man who just cared, who didn't think less of me, who helped me get better! I loved that man!" she closed her eyes, her throat dry, her eyes full of tears. "That man was you, Jeremy!"
She let her head fall down and let the flood of emotions file out. She was glad she had said this. It had hurt, it had been so very hard, but she had wanted to say this for so long. She didn't see Jer's expression in the end, but she felt him tremble, then take hold of her hands with fingers that normally were deft and quick, but were right now weak, shaking and hesitant. She opened her eyes to see that he, too, was crying.
"I..."
He stopped as a sob tore through him. He stilled it with all of his will, and finally managed to speak again.
"When I learned that Bison had taken you again, I...I didn't know what to d-do. All I could think about was that the bastard had taken you, and I was nowhere near to help you, all of that because of a stupid wounded pride! I should have been there for you!"
She gave his hands a squeeze. "Bison would have killed you, if you'd been there. And then I'd actually have WANTED to be a doll again, because life would have been damn unbearable."
He shook his head "Still, I only though that...that I'd failed you. I'd let you go without a fight, without hope. I wanted to kill the bastard right then, but I hated myself far more." he his face crumbled completely then. The proud, strong warrior let go of his last inhibitions, revealing a very young man who had felt far too much in his life. "When I saw what they'd done..it was...i-i-if he ever lays a finger on you again, I'll kill Bison. I-I-I don't c-care how strong he is, I-I-I'll find a way...t-t-to..."
That's when she heard this heartfelt vow, this tearful confession, that something snapped within Cammy White. The love she had felt until now surged through her, making her forget her past pains, her past sorrows. Nervously, with gentleness, she disengaged her hands, brought his face closer, and kissed him, pressing her lips against his. There was a fixed moment when there was no response, but then he gave a shuddering sigh, and kissed her back, his own arms encircling her waist and giving her a loving hug that she returned as best she could, feeling the warmth coming from him even throught her coat. Finally they broke the kiss, but their embrace remained.
Jeremy looked at her with caring grey eyes that shone with unshed tears. "Cammy, don't...don't leave me again."
She tightened her hug a little. "I'll try not to...my love."
How strange these two words felt. She'd never spoken them before, to any man. No one had ever made that close, that intimate a bond with her before. Yes, these words were strange.
But they were so very fitting. For tonight she felt fully human again for the first time.
Tonight, she had found back her soul.
* * * * * * * * * *
Five minutes later...
The man was making his way out of the area where the two new lovers were. He was completely disgusted. He'd heard just about everyword, and had gagged at some of the sentences. What foolish, sentimental nonsense! What a weakling the man - his own cousin, no? - had become. And that woman! No better. What rubbish and ridicule. Love! Fah! Illusiory nonsense that may fool such people, but not him. For he knew The Truth.
And The Truth was all.
Love. It didn't stop the betrayals. Only violence did. Love was peace, and peace was an illusion. But there was some good to it, no? If Jeremy believed in what he was feeling, he might leave himself open. And that would give him the chance he needed. No longer would he play by the faded rules that had bound him three years ago.
A lifetime ago.
He smiled a cold smile. "Relish what remains of your reprieve, Betrayer." he said icily "The time will soon come for True Justice." Oh yes. It would happen. Not yet, not yet.
But soon.
Oh, yes, soon.
_______________________________________________________________
Hello! Hope you'll like this chap! Its sappy, I know, but I just had to put that part in! So, Cammy and Jeremy are finally lovers! What do you say about it? Please give me feedback, guys, I'd love to know your opinion!
Next chapter: A new war. A deepening relationship and a new one! Stay tuned, its gonna be a blast! ^_^
Jeremy
