Tears from eyes worn, cold and sad
Pick me up now
I need you so bad …
-Blink-182 (Down)
Pathos
"You know what we look like?" A short but flexible youth snapped at Zell, sitting in his usual position behind his desk, "Like a bunch of freakin' jokers. We've got virtually no territory, no men, no money, no nothing! This is all a fucking joke!"
"I don't see what the big panic is about, guys …" Zell began but was cut off by another one of his complaining men.
It was a tall, well-built Bruce Lee look-a-like this time who spoke up gruffly, "And this wonderful ally … Rinoa Heartilly … what the hell can she possibly do for us? She's too busy keeping her own ass off the stove that she's got no time for us. What we need is what Diabolos has. Trepe's got millions of opportunities to get this thing off the ground. We're just standing around like a bunch of mofos, looking at the seasons pass. What we need is a real ally, Dincht. Getting me?"
"You guys don't seem to understand that Deling city is a powder keg just looking for one tiny spark!" Zell countered aggressively, "Let the worst pass and then we jump into the ashes and claim whatever we want. I don't want to get involved. Allies or no allies, we're still short of territory, men, weapons, money, everything like mentioned before! And now isn't a good time to start brawling with others to get that! Stay out of the conflict. This is a 'go for the gold' we can't afford to participate in!"
"I think Zell's right." An older, calmer member spoke up quietly though with firm intentions, "We should just let this whole thing blow over. Chances are a gang isn't going to make it to the finish line. So whatever they lose, we grab without resistance. We'd be avoiding unnecessary sacrifices."
"See, that's your problem, Lee … you never really saw the big picture." The first man turned to the reasonable speaker, "You were never able to seize the full potential of this damn organization if the goddamn motto, 'patience is a virtue' was abolished. I'm not suggesting action out of recklessness, rather out of fucking boredom and humiliation of being part of this shitkicking group of jerk-offs."
There was a division in the room like none other before. For some, it was time for a revolution, for others, prosperity depended on the old ways. Tsang, who had crept into the dojo after having narrowly escaping what he thought was Trepe's set-up, heard all this from the hallway. He smirked to himself and shook his head. It would be so easy to win over a disarrayed council. Child's play. He pushed his way through the rice paper door and the twelve men in the room turned to him. Most wore looks of shock.
"I was beginning to miss you fellows." He smirked maliciously, hands in his pockets, "There really is no place like home."
"Tsang, you … were supposed to be transferred to the D-District prison." One man stuttered, wide-eyed.
"Yeah … I was." Another acrid snigger, "But, I bailed … managed to do it on my own though I do appreciate all the help my … 'family' supplied."
"You went on a freak-show killing spree, goddamnit, Tsang, you expected me to pay the bail? With what? Did you want me to donate a kidney to the black market to get you out of jail? For Christ's sake!" Zell's cheeks were flushing with rage, for what it mattered he had heard of Tsang's escape but never would he have thought the old 'friend' would resurface at the Wakasenshi dojo.
"I'll start pointing fingers whenever I want, Dincht." Tsang snarled back. A few seconds of silence passed and his snide demeanor returned, "Where's Selphie?"
"Away." Zell replied curtly, his hands balled to ready fists.
"Too bad." The hitman shrugged and turned towards the fellow members of the Wakasenshi, his old teammates, "I look at you guys and I think to myself, 'What a bunch of pathetic, whining dogs.' … are some of you even worth my effort? No. But a select few are. Hear the call of revolution, gentlemen. Mr. Dincht, our respected leader for years has been locking our potential and throwing away the key. Martial arts are a thing of the past. Human beings are such weak, frail things … our fists can not replace a lead bullet, our feet can not substitute for machine guns and these facts wouldn't matter if we were allowed to drink from that cup of damn technology! I feel like I'm still speaking to knights in clanky armor, to samurais with their katanas … we're backwards and Dincht has kept us this way."
No one spoke so Tsang went on, stringing his words together in the somber ways that poets do, "We deserve this war. We deserve this city. We deserve a leader that will allow us to fight for what is rightfully ours. Backstreets have been our home for far too long. The Wakasenshi need no allies. We need no one except ourselves and understand that you would see this … if only … if only he," And he pointed the finger of shame towards the blonde-haired martial artist, "allowed us to open our eyes and to unleash the power within ourselves. Deling is a city close to hell's heart. If you can't beat them, join them, gentlemen. Become the blood-thirsting bloodhounds that have helped Dincht keep us down!"
"This is a load of horse shit!" Zell pounded his fists on the table and roared out menacingly, "Don't try to sway my men with your bullshit about this Utopic crap! I'll agree with you, Wakasenshi has been kept down by the other gangs, and I have done my efforts to discourage the use of guns but power and money isn't what this group was originally about! What ever happened to our first cause?"
"Your men?" Tsang snapped viciously and turned towards the Wakasenshi members, "See what he refers to you as? Possessions! You are not your own men, you are his men! Should you stand for this? Should you-"
"Don't twist my motherfucking words!" Zell bellowed out and jumped from his chair in rage.
"And this … first cause?" Tsang continued, ignoring Zell's outburst, "You mean the empowerment of the poor? That is, in other words, the overthrowing of the rich and what have you done to justify that cause lately? Nothing."
The argument rattled on, louder and louder until a tiny head popped into the room, the rest of her body hidden behind the doorframe and the wall. Dincht's attention immediately turned towards her, "Go back to your room, Arianna."
"But you're being loud." The tiny girl whined, collecting a few sniggers from the other grown men.
"I said go." She had never seen this look in her brother's eyes before. Fury. Afraid, she backed out of the room and remained in a desolate corner of the hallway to listen intently to the escalating quarrel. More accusations were thrown about, more curse words, until finally, a resolution.
"I'm getting tired of this, aren't you?"
She heard the shuffling of feet, clicks of lead being loaded. Afraid, Arianna snuck into the closet nearby and shut the door, trying to block out the sudden screams, some crying for mercy. She pressed her hands on her ears as tears ran down her face, "What's happening?" She wouldn't look. Last time she snuck a peak at something, it was her father being torn apart by a thousand bullets and that still haunted her today.
After everything would fall silent, her brother would come to her. He would pick her up and carry her to her room again while whispering promises that everything would be okay. Soon … after the shrieks would die out. Soon.
The child fell asleep, curled into a fetal position and crying in a corner of the dark closet, to the ravaging cries of men being ripped apart in the next room. She beheld little thought to the violent twist of fate that would mean things would never really be 'okay' again.
HE HAD MANAGED to calm the tyrant that had arose at half past three in the morning. It had been a feat he would rather avoid facing in the future. The mere touch of his hand had fueled her frantic panic and it had even sparked a certain violent anger. But after collective minutes of seemingly fruitless attempts to sooth her, fatigue gripped her and she was too worn out to fight.
So Squall had cradled her in his arms as if she was a fragile child, a fallen angel with a broken wing. She had closed her eyes, tears caught in her long lashes and had whispered softly to him, "I can't take this anymore." He hadn't replied, only kissed her on the forehead and it seemed to cast her back into an uneasy sleep. Her breathing became rhythmic and regular again but he didn't let her go.
This was his fault, wasn't it? He had been the cause of those unrelenting nightmares that plagued her sleep. How many times had she woken up screaming like this? How many times had she comforted herself alone? Squall closed his eyes and sighed painfully. He understood her when she said sorry didn't mean much anymore.
What God to pray to? What do you say to the One who's pulling the strings? The One you've been pissing off for the past twenty-four years of your life? "Don't take her away from me yet, I want to try to make things better." Are your prayers even heard at this point? And what if they aren't? What if she's already gone so far from you that you'll never reach her no matter how fast you run to catch up?
This darkness was strange to him. It was twisted, warped, scary. He suddenly felt sick and very hot. A drop of sweat trickled from his hairline to his eyebrow and he pushed off the covers. No, Leonhart, don't you see? Now she'll be cold. Is there no winning? He pulled them back up and felt an immense heat wave that made him want to vomit. Squall quickly reached for the lamp on the nightstand and clicked it on.
You fool, she's barely been asleep five minutes and you've already woken her again, "I'm sorry, just … I'm not feeling well." She shouldn't have to care, you dolt, "Here." He flicked it off again but let her go and got out from the covers.
He heard her whisper, exasperated, weary, "What the hell are you doing?" Rinoa reached for his hand and held it, slightly inclining him to come back to her.
"I don't know, it's just been quite the eventful evening, night, morning, whatever." Squall did not reciprocate the holding of hands and instead let hers go. He picked up his t-shirt from the floor and pulled in on, unsure of what he was doing. Did he think he was going somewhere? Was he just going to leave her?
That's what she wanted to know, "What, are you just going to leave?" Rinoa's voice beheld a certain anger, and with reason.
"Yeah. No. I don't know."
"Well, can you figure it out?" Now it wasn't just a 'certain anger', it was frustration in its purest form. Her head went back to the pillow and not a single one of her weaknesses betrayed her as they had half and hour ago. Squall stared through the darkness, disbelievingly. She was amazing. How long had she spent carving those masks to her features, how long had she practiced acting with them so skillfully?
"This is my fault." Clever, Leonhart, very clever. Do you expect her to relieve your guilt by denying it?
"What's your fault?" Rinoa asked, almost as if she was mocking him. What's your fault, poor little baby, what's on your conscious? Did you do a boo-boo? What do you need to be forgiven? What little mistake have you just realized making?
"Just everything. Tell me, what're you blaming me for?" He sounded exhausted. Bite the bullet already.
"Who's blaming anyone?" She snapped nastily, "I didn't say anything, buddy, you're just looking for shit to throw at the fan."
"Who's looking for shit? If I'm looking for shit, you beat me to it." Squall retorted grabbing his jeans off the floor and, in perfect unison, stubbing his toe on the corner of her dresser, "Sh-fuck." He hissed contemptuously and heard her snickering, "What's so fucking funny?" Squall snarled, doing his best to keep the tears out of his eyes. When she didn't answer him, he stalked to the bed and demanded, "How the fuck do you do this? How can you be so fucking helpless when you've got … like … machine guns on each fucking arm?"
"Oh, been practicing metaphors, have you?" Rinoa retorted sarcastically, "Well, Squall, if you insist - I'm running out of ammo and my arms are getting tired but who the fuck told you I was so damn helpless in the first place? I never asked you anything. I never will. Walk out the door, Squall, and it won't be more of a splinter in my ass. We live, we die and shit happens. What's left in this city, baby? I'm sure everyday you wake up and feel a little less, until one day, you'll feel nothing at all. I'm getting there." Despite the acrid cynicism, she managed to keep a calm tone throughout her entire speech.
"You only say you don't feel anything because the only thing left to feel is fear."
"Maybe."
There are no flowers, no, not this time.
There will be no angels gracing the lines,
Just these stark words I find.
I'd show a smile but I'm too weak.
I'd share with you, could I only speak,
Just how much this hurts me …
Just how much this hurts me …
Just how much you …
The wind outside howled and for a moment, Rinoa thought she had heard the distinct, horrified scream of a child. Her entire body shivered and she found herself without will to intelligently fight the man that stood opposing her once more, "Just leave."
"No fucking way."
There was an uneasy silence, and then in an almost mocking tone, Rinoa asked, "On a scale from one to ten, how much do you want me to need you?"
"Twelve." Squall snapped, almost contemptuously. There, happy? What else? Want me to get on my hands and knees? Beg? Crawl? He scrunched down to his knees by her bedside and lay his head down on the edge of the mattress, "Fuck, Rinoa." He spoke through clenched teeth, "What do you want me to do? I'll do it. I swear. Just pretend you need me, pretend I have a fucking purpose. I don't know what to live for anymore, I know I'm a fuck-up but please. I want to make it up to you."
You don't need to make anything up to me. She thought dismally, remaining silent, This isn't only your fault. Intimate suicide is a joint effort. But Rinoa did not utter a word, instead allowed her hands to gently stroke his face and relish in the words she had wanted to hear for so many years.
IT HAD BEEN hours since the last fired bullet. This fact had been verified by instinct only and instinct seemed to immediately prove theories within children's minds. She hugged her knees and rocked her shaking body back and forth in the desolate closet, trying hard not to sob aloud. If she made too much noise, she might provoke restless ghosts that seemed to haunt the halls.
He had not come for her yet. The meeting had clearly been adjourned, why hadn't her big brother come to put her to bed, whispering stories of lands filled with endless fields of green, galloping stallions, knights, castles and her, the princess amidst the make-believe lands of Avalon. Where had he gone? Arianna couldn't really know, she didn't speak to God on a daily basis and had never been taught prayer. Unfortunately, only God knew where Zell was. God and Tsang.
Her breaths were wheezes now and she felt her lungs constricting. Covering her mouth with her hand, she coughed painfully. It was dusty in here. The searing hurt seemed to slash at her chest with each intake of air. Where's my big brother? Where's Zell? Mommy, daddy, anyone? No, there isn't a soul.
To ease her anxious pains, she shoved her wrist in her mouth and bit down hard. She used to do it when she was little. Much more little. It always managed to calm her down a little bit but where her brother had noticed the scars around her arms, hands and fingers, he had taken her to a doctor who had consulted a psychologist. Her brother had seemed so distressed that time, she had just stopped doing it altogether and instead had taken it out on her poor dolls.
Her breathing became rhythmic again, but her chest still hurt. Drops of iron seemed to be melting onto her tongue. Now Zell would be mad. She had made herself bleed again.
It was a bit ironic, how Zell really couldn't be mad at her for a few drops of blood since much more than a few drops of his blood had been shed that night.
SQUALL AWOKE IN the most original manner that morning, 'original' having a very antagonistic undertone. He woke part of one big ball of them. Their limbs intertwined, pillows in the oddest places, sheets handicapping him from movement and though he was sure it had been incredibly comfortable to begin with, the four hours that had hence passed had cut off the circulation to his arm and had made his leg go into a cramp. Squall strategically managed to shift out from the bed, grumbling with pain, convinced that Rinoa had benefited from the odd tangle more than he had since she was still sleeping like a baby, now wrapped in the comforter.
Cute, He sneered almost bitterly at her near comatose state, Just like old times. The woman sleeps in while the man wakes up bright and early to do the real work. He glanced at the clock. Seven eighteen. Taking into account the previous night, this was a pretty good time to be functional again. He heaved himself off the bed and limped with his numbed leg out of the room. Squall wondered if she got the paper. Probably. Opening the apartment door just a crack, his hypothesis was confirmed as a copy of the Daily Post and the Deling News sat nicely folded near her door. Hm, shit, neighbors. He remarked grumpily as a balding man smiled at him and waved from where he was picking up his own newspaper.
"Hullo there. Never seen you here before." The man smiled dopily. Squall almost cackled nastily, I know - it's in the male whore job resume … 'don't be spotted'. A convenience that's much to the liking of your wife. He had always enjoyed playing the 'make-stuff-up-about-folks' game, having had an unmatchable imagination since he was really young. He's a notary. Met his wife in university, probably wears v-neck sweaters and beige pressed-pants and enjoys a good game of Galbadian football … never had any children - he looks totally unfertile anyway. Apparently, can't mind his own business - likes to secretly observe younger women's lives … that would explain why he knows I haven't been here. Squall grimaced, almost believing the thought, Like he has a chance with Rinoa anyway. That deserved a frown, Like I ought to have a chance with Rinoa anyway.
Wait. He's expecting a response. That did nothing to stir the silence. Having exhausted his patience, he turned back into his own apartment. Squall assumed he was going to be shutting the door behind him but instead, the man hollered out, probably to his wife, "Hunny-bun, I think the mysterious little lady does have a boyfriend after all." Squall cringed at the words. Here he was, half outside Rinoa's apartment, wearing only a pair of boxers, being labeled by this impertinent weirdo without a life.
The woman actually came out to have a look, she was more flamboyant than her hubby with her obviously dyed reddish hair, "Oh, isn't that wonderful?" She smiled at Squall at the same time as he gaped back disbelievingly, "She's such a pretty girl, we were wondering if a handsome boy would turn up sooner or later - we've been so curious." And blatant, apparently.
"Yeah." Was the one and only word that was allowed to come out of his mouth until unkind thoughts dissipated a little bit, "Yeah." Squall repeated, perhaps for good measure. Seconds later, with the older couple still staring at him, he finally blurted out something along the lines of, "Yeah - I left the pot on the coffee machine - I better go." And quickly shut the door behind him, newspapers in hand.
Positive that Rinoa was still sleeping, he happily announced to her unconscious figure in the bed that her neighbors were a bunch of crazy weebles and that she should consider moving and placing a complaint to the police for stalker-ish behavior. She whined, turned, mumbled and showed no further signs of life.
In case some other random neighbor coming to knock at Rinoa's door, Squall picked up his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. He then proceeded to pulling on his jeans and socks. Taking a spare pillow that Rinoa wasn't surgically attached to, he lifted it above his head and threw it at her dead-looking body. She moaned and he distinctly heard a curse word slip by. Surprise, surprise.
"Wake up, Rin, if only for a few minutes." His smirk turned into a genuine smile. She was beautiful even when she had just woken up, "I said wake up, damn it!" Squall growled, now feeling playful and hit her with the pillow once more.
"No talk. Sleep." She howled out a desperate whine and grabbed his t-shirt, urging him to just shut up and come back to bed.
"I'm going back to my apartment to take my shower and brush my teeth and shave and change my clothes and feed my annoying household pet. Then I will proceed to skinning that pet and making you a wonderful pair of slippers. I'll be back in two hours maximum. It will take that long because I don't know how to sow."
Rinoa looked up at him with tiny eyes, blinked and replied scathingly, "You're so retarded, go away!" She then turned on her side and hugged the pillow that had been used as a weapon against her.
Snidely chuckling to himself, Squall ran his hand through his hair and strut out of the room. He hadn't felt this lighthearted in a while. Yes, well, in jail, you're more worried about dropping the soap to feel lighthearted. He argued to himself, unsure if that was supposed to be a joke or a wise reflection.
Probably a wise reflection. He felt like a smartass today.
Author's Pointless Rambles: The title of the chapter, 'Pathos', actually means suffering in Latin. Awww yeah, Sam's a literary mastermind now. I learnt it in biology … a disease-causing bacteria is called a pathogen and the big, bulky textbook told me what it was derived from … I'm such a nerd, it's barely even funny. Anyway, I thought I could get away without an update this week, being down and weird and all ... guess I was wrong, heh, I lose. Nothing particularly important about this chapter except that it's ... not my best.
Anyway, this is a shortish rant for this week, you must all be so sad that I've got nothing else to say. Well, I've got TWO things to say. 1. REVIEW, please? Or else, I won't post anymore. I post so people read, right? If no one reads, I just might as well not post and just keep the writing to myself. and 2. JOIN the FF8 FANFICTION FORUM NOW! Join it and post ... and be a happy forum-ee.http ff8fanfiction . proboards37 . com Minus the spaces in between the periods. Links don't go well with chapters, ah well ... JOIN! There are benifits to your memberships like sneak peaks at chapter 25 and so forth of Devil's Playground and maybe other authors' acclaimed fics that you may enjoy so join now! If you're an author and would like to post previews to your fics and perhaps attract the attention of other readers, join NOW and post your sneak peaks under the section entitled 'Fanfiction'. Now review:
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