A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) / Chapter originally written on 06.19.2004. Re-polished on 01.12.2006 for the arowrites dot net archives.
Review-replies can be found now on arowrites dot net.
Formatting repaired on 04.13.2010 -- thanks, ffnet, for eating all my scene-dividers sometime in the last four years!
05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. Please just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.
---- ----: -x- :---- ----
Requiem for the Dream
( entry 06: snake's skin )
James was once again doing battle.
And with a most stubborn and resistant foe, far more armed--and armored--than he. A crafty, sneaky foe that few who had not indeed faced it themselves... would ever think of as one.
Yes, it was the portable stove.
It was his seventh of the day, the shift having just started only an hour ago, and so far he had been lucky. All the parts had been correct, nothing had been broken further up the line, and the holes had almost lined up. Probably out of fear from yesterday's inspection, so far everyone up the line had done their jobs correctly.
Until now.
In typical grill fashion, it was now back to patience, luck, and a -lot- of fumbling with the bolts. James ground his teeth, nearly wrapped around the construct as he was--with one leg propping the back panel up from falling out, he was only balanced on one foot. Both hands were occupied with trying to align the slots--the long and fully-threaded bolt was stuck behind one of his ears.
/ Cursed things... / he thought/ if I never see another after this job... it will be far too soon! /
Clang, CRASH! Replied the grill, as the back plate fell inward--away from his leg's support--and impacted loudly with the bottom.
/ Moons damn you! / James suddenly became aware that he was shaking a fist at an inanimate object--face reddened with barely-contained frustration. A month ago he wouldn't have believed that a flat bit of metal could annoy him so... but he certainly knew now!
"Hey, James--man--take it easy." Ben commented from a few places down the line, "You look like you're about to start beating it up with your bare hands!"
"It's an idea!" James shot back, glaring impotently at the chunk of steel even as he lifted it back into place and started over in his efforts.
"Yeah, well, I don't think it would be worth it in the long run." a pause, then--in a devious tone... "...or perhaps it would..."
"Don't tempt me." James said, forcing calmness into his tone, and managing at the same time to shoot one bolt home. He quickly tightened the nut on the other end before the blasted thing could back out of its own accord and go skittering across the floor out of reach. It happened quite often anyway, unless one was quick to keep it from its sinister plans.
"Can't blame a guy for trying, it would be entertaining to watch--to say the least." the younger worker replied with a smirk, going back to his work.
"...Mmhmm."
But their talk was cut off abruptly, when the main door of the factory burst open.
Neither looked up at first, as the blond officer with his group of subordinates strode through the door and stopped, searching for someone along the lines. But when they finally had to look, breaking the unspoken rule to never pay any more attention to newcomers than needed...
Ben, who had not even been at the factory the previous day, reacted with surprising horror. He dropped his tools from nerveless fingers--gasping--and stared at the blond in raw shock.
James, too, stopped working--Ben's reaction sending a trickle of pure dread down his spine even as the officer locked his gaze on the younger worker and then pointed with one gloved hand.
"Execute him, he is of The Sands." said the blond, coldly, and his men rushed to obey. Ben backed away from the assembly line--his gaze never leaving the blond's cold stare. His face was as pale as a corpse's--as though gazing upon a ghost, and his hands shook as he stared.
Around them, the other workers stopped their jobs and watched as well, reminding James suddenly of the bar. The trickle of dread turned into a small stream.
"Why!" Ben finally screamed, eyes impossibly wide. James, looking on as one transfixed, felt as though the world were moving slower than it really should. As though sprinting through deep water...
"You are a traitor--a rebel--a piece of filth to be eradicated." the cold officer said bluntly, not moving from where he stood. He didn't seem to be viewing this as anything more interesting than filling out paperwork--what was a rebel's life to him?
"But why... why -you-?" Ben choked out as the soldiers slowly closed in. James still could only watch as the officer smiled slowly--a humorless... almost a bored expression...
"The military," he said slowly, deliberately, "pays quite well."
Ben's desperate, pleading stare shifted to James.
And James realized at that moment that the younger man was not even fearing for his life. He simply did not want to know what he had just discovered. Did not want to know with a vehemence that surpassed even the fear of dying... but not the shock of complete and utter betrayal.
Then, in a blink of an eye--a sword buried itself in Ben's back, protruding through his stomach before slowly sliding back out. He fell forward, towards James, and only managed to sputter one last word before another sword was thrust mercifully through his neck... ending his life quicker than most.
"W-Wren..."
/ "You remind me a lot of Wren. So much that's it's almost like he's come back, every time I look at you."
"I know that you are one of The Sands. --is that... why? You wished to follow where you felt your brother might have gone?"
"I--um--uh... ...you really -are- just like him! Moons..."
"You are clumsily trying to change the subject. Unsuccessfully, I might add."
"Well, yeah. I guess that's probably why I joined. ...But it's not why I stayed..." /
"Kill that one, too." the cold voice snapped James out of his sudden memory of yesterday, and he found that he was the one in question. Ben's blood pooled on the stone floor--the cooling body was ignored entirely. But he knew that it would change when the officer, when -Wren-, was not looking...
The former bounty hunter had seen a lot of horrors in his life, had committed even more, and he wouldn't later be able to explain what had made this different. Why this affected him so badly... but he would suspect, always, that it was because things were supposed to have -changed-.
James bent reflexively, and retched.
/ "This city is stifling. I think it would choke me, if I lived here too long."
"Yeah. ...But it's the closest to freedom you can find on this wretched world anymore." /
And he finally knew whether to scream or laugh...
He did both. He screamed, and the soldiers retreated several steps, looking to their officer in puzzlement as James' scream changed. The worker laughed so hard and loud that it immediately hurt his throat... and yet still... he kept laughing, and screaming.
He couldn't help it, couldn't have stopped it even if he'd tried... so he just let himself go until his voice had gone beyond hoarse. And even then, when he forced it down... something in him still wanted to laugh even more, and something else in him still just wanted to scream. It was as though all the air he had ever breathed in over his lifetime suddenly wanted to tear out of him.
Insanity? It was possible. Pure hysteria? More likely. Or, perhaps, it was just something long overdue in releasing, even as Esperanza's invisible roots firmly wrapped themselves around his bones and began to seek the marrow.
He was silent for a very long moments... still bent, straining to regain some control and catch his breath...
"You won't kill me," he finally croaked out of his abused vocal chords, straightening slowly, before the soldiers could regain their scattered wits and attack. "Because I know everything about The Sands--" his voice held the hint of a mad giggle even now, and he fought it down before continuing...
"...and I'm even willing to talk."
The officer's expression shifted--just slightly--and James was not at all surprised to see greed flicker there. No, after what he'd just witnessed about the officer... he wouldn't have been surprised by anything at this point.
"But only--" he continued--holding up a hand as he skillfully regained his composure, albeit with much difficulty. "But only to one man."
None of The Sands ever talked, even under plain torture, having learned how to black out at will, and clearly it was assumed that James was one of them. A valid assumption, with his claimed and ultimately un-verifiable knowledge. And even if they would take him to have the information forced from him, the only one that could manage it took orders directly from...
"And who is it that you will talk to?" Wren asked coldly, for everything about this man but his greed was coldness--harsh like Glacia.
"I will give my information only to..." he paused, thinking of his words and savoring the irony before uttering them, "...the leader of this wretched world."
And James' own cold parody of a smile played across his lips.
...even if all he wanted to do was laugh until he died.
The journey to Soltis was an uneventful one, from the bowels of a military transport ship. James was seated on a narrow bench against the hull, crates of supplies of all sorts surrounded him and his guards--for he wasn't left alone for the entire time. Four soldiers sat with him, one on either side and two on the bench across... and they looked about as unhappy to be here as he felt.
Though in James' case, it wasn't that he minded where they were going--but that he despised where they had come from. And the guards? They were more than a little uneasy about traveling to the capital, having to go near the man that controlled all.
Unlike the officer, who apparently felt it was a wonderful opportunity for promotion. James felt the laugh catch at his breathing--and he concentrated for several long moments on choking the hysteria back down. A small giggle. Why? Why indeed... why was a question he would be hearing a lot of.
...The guards looked even less at ease.
Finally, after two days of travel, they arrived. The ship glided into the harbor and was quickly tied to the shimmering white dock--gangplanks spanned the distance between ship and land... and the cargo was immediately started in on unloading. Everything was to be efficient in the new order--which was why no one was shuttled anywhere else without at least a second reason behind it. Such as a supply run.
James waited until the two guards in front of him stood before doing the same, and followed them up the stairs and across the deck, well aware of the other two guards trailing close behind. Amusingly, he wasn't sure if they were more afraid of -him- bolting, or of one of their own breaking for an escape.
Across the gangplank they walked, James' steps far more sure and unfaltering than the guards' as they began to head for the tower. Wren walked past them without a glance, hurrying along to pass securities and request an audience with his leader.
"You seem awfully calm." one of the guards behind him remarked as they finally reached the base of the tower, beneath the five stories of addition so far up. Pads had been set up here, but not the sort from the original Soltis. These were the kinds that Rixis boasted, so that one had to actually travel -on- them rather than through.
It gave one ample time to be shot down, if one was an unwelcome guest.
James craned his neck, looking up at the perfectly round rings of additional building as the pad--just big enough for all five to stand on--rose smoothly up towards the construct.
"You seem awfully nervous, considering that -I- am the prisoner." he finally said back, once the pad had docked on the inside of the bottom ring between tower and addition. James didn't seem to be impressed or surprised, however, much to the guards' discomfiture, because if their prisoner didn't gawk then they couldn't very well do so either.
"Here to see Lord Galcian?" an armored man asked them as they stepped off the pad.
"Yes sir, we're here with--"
"I know who you're here with." the man cut the guard off, before turning and snapping, "This way." over his shoulder. He led them up to the top floor--all efficiency--and then gestured them into one of the halls.
"This is Plergoth Hall. You'll wait in here until Lord Galcian says you can enter." the armored man said, gruffly, before turning and walking off to attend to his other duties. The guards shared a glance with one another, before leading James further down the hall.
Apparently they were just in time.
"Lord Galcian, I bring you a man from Esperanza who claims to have full details on The Sands..." James heard Wren's voice say from within the chamber, though he could not see inside, "he insisted that he would tell only you." the officer finished apologetically after a long, uncomfortable pause.
They, meanwhile, stood just on the other side of the door. The guards were looking even more nervous than before...
"Send him in." came the voice through the door, and much to the guards' surprise and dismay--their prisoner pushed past them and entered the room before they could stop him. James approached the dias even as they rushed inside behind him, and he knelt with his head bowed low, fist to shoulder in respect and flawless protocol.
Lord Galcian stared at the young man with the smallest hit of... amusement? glittering in his dark eyes. It was as though he was sharing a joke with the worker, with his crude factory-issue overalls and messy black hair.
Wren moved to say something, thought better of it, and stepped back again... jaw snapping shut.
"Well," Lord Galcian said after a long and thoughtful moment, "I see you've turned your hair black--stained with ink?"
"Yes, my Lord." James replied, not yet elaborating. His un-gloved left hand was in agony--no longer used to the dull pulsing from the creature high above. Only a month had gone by, but it was enough. The young man grit his teeth, but remained exactly as he was. The guards further tensed--not at all sure what was going on, and Wren seemed simply shocked that the two acted so...
"And no one found you out?" Lord Galcian continued after another long moment, "I -am- impressed, you are trickier than even I expected." he said, darkly amused, before returning to the business at hand.
"Now--stand and report; what did you find?"
The young man obediently stood up and began to tell his story, shedding as he did so the name of James like a snake's skin and settling into the mode of reporting. He would try to remain as detached as possible from 'James' while he spoke.
Ramirez, after all, had quite the disturbing tale to get through objectively.
-- --: -x- :-- --
Skies of Arcadia Legends belongs to someone else.
All here that is not found in the canon... is mine.
Never steal if you value your spleen.