CHAPTER 80: HELL AND BACK
JANUARY 1ST
As the morning sun rises on the blue planet we call Earth on the first day of its new year, its people stand in solidarity with one another over a great tragedy that has left a stain on their history on this planet. Putting aside their differences and petty squabbles, they come together for the funeral and memorial for a city and its people all answering to one name:
Hillwood.
The city was once a melting pot, full of many people of differing backgrounds, races, religions, ethnicities, and creeds, but the citizens of Hillwood still came together in unity for life in this bumbling and lively city. They may claim heritages and lineages as the Europeans, the Middle Easterns, the Hispanics, the Asians, and the Africans; but no one, not even themselves, could deny their true place of belonging:
They were all citizens of Hillwood.
With the return of a powerful madman by the name of the Freak, the melting pot began to boil and rage following a wake of death and destruction, and it began to come apart at the seams. It was finally broken apart and ripped at the seams with the underground detonation of a nuclear bomb, sending an earthquake throughout the city that brought it to its knees and left it separate from the country.
For over a month, it was broken and shattered with its many ingredients scattered and separated, but, with the help of one man, all the pieces had come back together once again. Deprived of their humanity, they once remained apart from themselves in gangs, each clinging to small differences of race and ideology to protect their loved ones, but they had been brought to rise above it all to join together with one reality that they all share and realize:
The city was their home, they were there to stay, and they would take it back for themselves.
Despite all the will and might they brought back to reclaim their city, it all came to naught with yet another bomb. Unlike the previous attempt brought by the use of a man with no other goals than mindless destruction to prove a point, this one was brought by a man simply looking to a simple solution to a complex problem in his political career.
The result was the complete erasure of a long-standing and beautiful city, and leaving in its place a desolate wasteland known as Lang Island. Hundreds of years of history, a culture that once was lived and experienced were now gone, and had no trace left on this Earth save for some of the memories shared by a few.
Those memories are brought to light and memoriam from a thousands coming out to mourn the loss of the city, giving one last light for Hillwood.
[Soundtrack Cue: Richard O'Brien - Super Heroes (from The Rocky Horror Picture Show)]
To ensure that no one would be forgotten from the destruction of Hillwood, a memorial wall was constructed on what was once a bridge to the city, listing on it the names of every man, woman and child that lived in Hillwood from its fall up to its destruction. Its listing spanned at least twice as long as the deaths of U.S. soldiers in World War 2, and eight times that of the Vietnam War.
Each casualty has a name, and that name once belonging to a person with thoughts, feelings, dreams, memories, hopes, and a future. Blasted away in the wake of a nuclear bomb, all that was left behind from their passing was a name, one among many in a sea of other names.
Along with each of these names was also a family; people connected by blood and sharing a bond closer than any could make with words and experiences with strangers. These families came to pay their last tributes to their loved ones, all coming to honor those they knew even after the separation of time.
Husbands and wives long since divorced came to give their last respects to those they once made a pact with, giving their love even when said pact no longer existed. Children now fully grown came to give a final goodbye to parents long since left behind, remembering those who raised them and made them who they were.
The worst who suffered were parents who saw their own children leave their homes to live lives of their own returned to still show their unconditional love, mothers and fathers coming to bury their sons and daughters. Out of all those who came to mourn, there were a few that held the most pain over their children.
The family of Eugene, Nathan Horowitz and his wife, showed the least composure among the most; their lives no longer touched by their son's happy-go-lucky attitude. Collapsing over their son's grave in each other's arms, their screams are among the loudest the cries.
The family of Sheena, her mother joined by her sister Shelley and her father joined by his brother Earl, showed a loss not only with the death of Sheena herself, but the destruction of Hillwood. Having lost the last lineage in their family along with the place they once called home, none can even bare to look at the desolate and empty Lang Island.
The family of Nadine, a white father and a black mother, returned to Hillwood to give their daughter the respects deserved. Remembering of her interest in insects and other such crawling creatures, they left behind on her grave her first bug-catching kit, along with the personal touch of their own tears.
The family of Harold, the religious and occasionally strict parents of Jerry and Marylin that tried to curb him from his delinquent habits, showed a silent but very strong sense of sorrow. Trying so hard to raise him to grow to be a good man, they can only hope that the rearing they gave had some effect on his life and kept him aware that the two still loved him regardless, even if said knowledge was short-lived.
The family of Stinky, bringing a group of his mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, uncle, aunt, and cousin, showed the largest turnout for one single individual. Even if their sheer numbers overshadowed that of anyone else's mourners, no one could deny that each member of the family felt the same pain inside.
The family of Sid, Ray and his wife, came to show their respects for their son. Patient as they were with his hang-ups and anxiety disorders, they were always proud of their son and tried their best to give him the strength to live his life, finding that life cut short by tragedy.
Honoring the people of Hillwood with a choice of appear that best reflected the city, many came to the memorial wearing green face paint over their eyes, after the one man who became the face of the city. In their hands were lit candles; their wax also a shade of green.
On a day meant to let go of the past and move forward, none here dare contemplate anything of the sort in their minds. Today, their one and only focus is to share the memory of Hillwood within themselves, and carry it forward into the future so it will never be forgotten.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
The reason behind the quick construction was the patronage of the uber-wealthy Vlad Masters, bringing about this memorial at a great expense of his own resources. It is not simply the wall of names that he has erected here that is what draws the attention to the people who gather in memorial today, but a statue behind him covered with a tarp, not yet revealing its appearance.
Stepping to a small podium set aside for the speakers of the event, he approached and made his own speech, having various news outlets cover him.
"My fellow Americans... Friends and acquaintances... There is no mistaking what we have gathered here for and what purpose we all share here. One of the beloved cities in our great country has been destroyed. I can go on and on about how the man who perpetrated the massacre of innocent citizens and how he should be impeached and tried, and go the way of George W. Bush by never being allowed in polite society again, but I had best leave that to the people working to make that happen in Congress now. That's not what we're here for today. What we're here for is to remember lives that were taken; lives that were stripped away from the outside world and thrown into a complete hell on Earth for the sake of simplicity and political motivations. For a month, they suffered disease, poverty, famine, and death, the conditions of a third-world country, in the same one that was meant to be the richest and most prosperous on the planet. Although rule of law had been long gone in this city, there was still the natural and righteous need to pursue justice, and there were a few that have fought to attain that justice: The Hillwood Heroes. When the Freak had returned to continue his acts of chaos and violence, never once did these brave men and women leave the battlefield; never leave behind their fellow human beings. Instead, they all gave the ultimate sacrifice to their city, fighting to their very deaths to see their home returned to its former glory. When the entire world turned its backs on them, they never turned their backs on the people of Hillwood. That's why, in addition to memorial for all the deaths of the people of Hillwood, I've had this statue made in their honor." Vlad said.
Two workers pulled away the tarp from the statue, revealing it to the crowd at last. Seeing the statue in its complete form, every mouth in the audience gave a gasp; all in adoration of the monument built to the heroes of the city of Hillwood, and gaining the sense of pride that the statue was meant to instill.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you... the Tomb of the Unsung Hero." Vlad said.
The statue, titled the Tomb of the Unsung Hero as Vlad named it, was a full recreation of the Hillwood Heroes themselves: Valiance, G-Funk, Lady Tetsu, Mauve Avenger, Flower Child, Insect Girl, Bad Boy, Dirt Man, and the Star of David. Depicted as all standing together as one group and showing themselves ready to battle, the statue honored their images and values well, immortalizing the heroes and what they stood for.
Moving to a plaque, Vlad read it aloud for the crowd to hear.
"'After the fall of Hillwood, masked vigilantes, mostly young men and women, made greater images of themselves to fight evil and inspire change in others to do the same. They fought here alone and gave up their lives so that this city shall not perish from the Earth'. And it will not perish from the Earth. That's why I'm starting working with Representative Olga Pataki to start the Hillwood Reclaimation Project and rebuilt Hillwood from the ground up, investing hundreds of millions of my personal income to see their home alive once again. When the project is complete, this statue will be moved to the center of the new city, reminding people both living in the new Hillwood and all around the world what the real meaning of a hero is, to understand and respect those who fight to protect their fellow human beings safe at night, and to stand as a symbol and reminder to represent those unsung heroes who may not be known to the world or think they make a difference, but can look upon this memorial and remember: One man can make a difference." Vlad said.
Following his speech, Vlad began receiving questions from the media, his first question regarding the Tomb of the Unsung Hero.
"Mr. Masters, the statue of the Hillwood Heroes is missing the addition of the Green Eye. He was the de facto leader of the team. Why was he not included on the statue?" A reporter asked.
"The Green Eye stood for more than just the Hillwood Heroes. He was a man of principles, beliefs, and conviction. Never did he compromise, never did he surrender, not even in the face of armageddon. He lives for ideals that transcend imagery, even though many here today chose to honor him with green paint on their eyes. Besides, I don't believe that the Green Eye is dead. Someone like him is never easy to kill, and never does he go away that easy. Dare I say, he might even be among us today." Vlad said.
Vlad's statement was very much accurate to the truth, but it was not entirely correct in its wording. The man best known as the Green Eye was indeed among the gathering in the memorial of Hillwood, but nowhere would he be found among the crowd or the majority of the service.
"Herbie Grossman... Goldie Grossman... William Grossman... Annie Grossman..." Arnold read.
Instead, his location was found among the wall of names listing all the lives lost in Hillwood, and his current occupation included taking to reading every name upon the list. His abilities of hyperlexia and quick thought processing would allow him a full memorization with but a quick skim, but he had no intention of cheapening the action he needed to take.
"Barry Ronaldson... Pamela Ronaldson... Marquis Ronaldson... Holly Ronaldson... Charles Ronaldson..." Arnold read.
His approach was instead to read slowly and carefully, speaking each name aloud as he moved along the list. Letting the syllables leave his lips, making the vibrations in his vocal chords to release the sound in the air, ensuring that he actually takes the time and energy out of his life to honor the dead.
"Chris Jeong-sam... Aaliyah Samiya... Billie Taylor... Joey Taylor..." Arnold read.
He takes the time to know that everyone who has lost their lives was once a human being, and all deserving of life, regardless of what choices that these people had made in their lives before. Their deaths, to him, are each a light taken from the world, with their blood on his hands.
"Willie Mangiare... Wolfgang Edwards... Lila Sawyer... Thaddeus Gammelthorpe..." Arnold read.
Alone in his reading, Arnold's solitude was soon broken up by the arrival of two more mourners in the mass funeral, coming to share their thoughts and concerns with him. Gerald and Phoebe were the two coming to check on him, with the former pushing the wheelchair of the latter.
"Miles Shortman... Stella Shortman..." Arnold read.
Taking notice of his intense focus on the list, Gerald approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to gain his attention from his task.
"Hey Arnold. What are you doing?" Gerald asked.
"Reading this list. Of everyone that died." Arnold said.
"And how long you planning on doin' that?"
"Until I've read every name on here. Until I know all the people that died. The people that died because of me."
Feeling sympathy for their friend's heavy guilt and self-blame, Gerald and Phoebe looked to each other in concern, knowing how low he had been brought.
"Arnold... You shouldn't talk like that. You did everything you could to save as many people as you could." Phoebe said.
"And how many people did I save? Zero. I didn't save anybody. They all died. And the only reason that they died is because I wouldn't do what everyone said I should do: Kill Curly." Arnold said.
"You know you weren't capable of doing that. You said every step of the way that you couldn't do it and held onto that belief until the end. You wanted to show you could show everyone a better way to live. You were right."
"No. Curly was right. He still won. I killed him. In the end, it didn't make any difference what I did. I had every opportunity to end him; back when he was in the hospital, when he had my powers, and when he destroyed Hillwood. If I'd have done it in the first place, I'd have saved everyone. If I'd have done it after he got my powers, I'd still have saved most people. Even if I'd done it after the Fall, I'd still have saved a handful of people. I didn't do any of that. He still died, and so did everyone else. So did my whole city."
"That's not true. What happened because of Curly and everyone that followed him. None of what happened is on your shoulders." Gerald said.
"You weren't saying the same thing when Phoebe was first put in that wheelchair."
The couple came to a pause after Arnold's statement, knowing that his point was a good one made against their case.
"I was in the wrong then. We've always had our fights and disagreements, but we always came back as friends out of it. How many times have I almost split with you because I couldn't see it your way? A bunch. But I always came back around. You still proved me wrong." Gerald said.
"So what?" Arnold asked.
"So we all make mistakes. It happens. We learn from it."
"Mistakes like that are forgiveable when you're a kid. You're young enough to where you can afford gaffes and make up later. But we're all adults now. And we have more responsibilities that others. I failed in my responsibilities, and it cost the same lives I was trying to protect. What's there to learn from that?"
Having no answer to give to Arnold's question, the two once again fell silent, trying to think of an answer to give.
"We still believe in you, Arnold. We still believe you can do the right thing." Phoebe said.
"What right thing? Hillwood is dead. My home is dead. There's nothing left to protect or even destroy. There's nothing left for me to do. There's nothing." Arnold said.
Knowing that neither would have any way of convincing Arnold out of his current mindset, the two decided to give him their leave.
Before doing so, however, Gerald stepped up to Arnold and raised his hand up in a closed fist and thumb up, prompting him to fulfill their special handshake. Rather than fulfill the handshake, Arnold looked down to Gerald's hand, then back to his face, not reacting to it at all.
Seeing Arnold's cold reaction, Gerald lowered his hand and turned away, wearing a frown on his face for his friend. Moving back to Phoebe in her wheelchair, he began pushing her, taking the two of them to their next destination, hoping that where they go next will be better than where they stand now.
Another one alone in mourning is Rhonda Lloyd, taking her own time to process her guilt over the destruction of Hillwood. Being but one catalyst in the tragedy, and perhaps the linchpin which set the events in motion, her own guilt is unique and equal only to that of Arnold's.
Her place of contemplation is the newly-constructed Tomb of the Unsung Hero, focusing on the friends whose lives were lost with the purpose of trying to stop the Freak and save Hillwood. Seeing the faces of her friends, covered in masks and costumes, immortalized in iron and steel for years, to see them again in this way is a haunting experience that she cannot describe.
Two faces in particular are her main focus: Harold and Nadine. With the former, she held a sadness given with disappointment; their fling of romance giving her just enough care to desire to see him live well. With the latter, she had shared a close and great friendship with, and one of the few people she missed in her time living out her afterlife.
Another of the faces, belonging to her father, gives her a different emotion altogether. She knows that the man who brought her back to life did so with nothing but the intention of erasing his own pain over her loss, but also knew that his intentions led to greater consequences for both herself and Hillwood.
Hearing footsteps come her way, she turns to see the same face look back at her, this time witnessing the real Buckley Lloyd standing before her.
"Rhonda." Buckley said.
The mood between the two felt cold, especially with the name delivered from Buckley in a deadpan manner. Rhonda's reponse was not too different.
"Dad." Rhonda said.
The two continued to stay silent towards one another, neither having anything immediate to say to each other regarding the destruction of Hillwood or any personal feelings towards one another. With the small degree of a parental bond that still remained between the two, they cannot bring themselves to speak out any angered sentiments, even though they did exist.
Soon, they were joined by a third party, gained with the gentle hand of Vlad Masters laying his hand on Rhonda's shoulder. Bringing himself into the affair, he became the new focus of Buckley Lloyd; two rich men with pasts of violence and personal gains now face-to-face again.
Only one had anything to say, and the other remained silent.
"Tell me, Mr. Lloyd. Was it worth it?" Vlad asked.
Ashamed of the actions that he took, Buckley lowered his head, closing his eyes to prevent any tears from falling. Gaining no response to his question, Vlad began walking away from him, escorting Rhonda along with him. As they departed, Rhonda could not help but sneak one final look at her father, looking at his face one last time.
Seeing him no longer able to hold back his tears, falling before the Tomb, Rhonda felt a sympathy in her heart for him begin to rise, but that sympathy was held back by her own anger and rage over his choices. Conflicted, she could only continue to look at him as she walked away.
Unable to look anymore, she turned away.
As Arnold continued to read through the list, another visitor came to read through the names as well, in search of a particular name special to her. Turning to see the visitor, Arnold recognized her as Patricia Smith, nicknamed the moniker 'Big Patty' after her large size and immense strength.
The name she searches for she finds quickly, guiding her finger over the name 'Harold Berman'. Seeing his name on the list of lost lives, she begins to cry.
Remembering the promise he made to Harold on his deathbed, Arnold approached the mourning Patty, coming to share with her the final moments of her lost love. Lightly tapping the gentle giant on her shoulder, Arnold caught her attention, watching her turn towards him.
"Can I help you?" Patty asked.
"Hi. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Arnold Shortman. We went to P.S. 118 together. We both knew Harold Berman." Arnold said.
"Oh... Hey Arnold. Good to see you again. I'm glad to see you got out of Hillwood."
"Thanks. My parents weren't so lucky. They were in Hillwood when I left, and... I came here after the bomb."
"I'm sorry. I came to pay respects, too. My family moved out of here years ago, but... Harold still lived here. He's gone, too."
Patty's friendly demeanor towards Arnold began to dissolve into sorrow, holding back tears for the person she lost.
"Can I tell you something?" Patty asked.
"Sure." Arnold said.
"I actually hadn't heard from him in months. Before the Fall, I mean. We were dating long-distance, talking over the phone a lot. He went on and on about how he felt like a bad person for his past, and he wasn't doing enough to make up for what he did. He told me he used to run drugs and other things. I told him over and over that I didn't care about that, but it just wasn't getting through to him. He just still felt like he wasn't good enough for me. Those were his words. Soon, I just stopped hearing from him completely. I thought he would've gotten out and I could see him one last time, but I never saw him again. Now I never will."
Patty once again returned to tears, unable to compose herself to a casual conversation any longer.
"I'm sorry. I know it's stupid, worrying about some guy that probably stopped caring by now... but I can't help myself. He was such a sweet person. I wanted to help him. I miss him." Patty said.
Watching Patty's reaction to Harold's death, Arnold thought of the best way to respond, trying to think of a way to keep his own promise to preserve the legacy of Harold. Needing to find a way that would honor him in a respectful way, his mind looked out for what to say...
...and, seeing his statue on the Tomb of the Unsung Hero, he found it.
"Can I tell you something, too?" Arnold asked.
"Okay." Patty said.
"Harold and I still kept in touch before the Fall. His best friends were definitely Sid and Stinky, but he considered me close, and I him. You know what was something he shared with me I couldn't believe?"
"What?"
"Harold was the Star of David."
Arnold pointed to his statue on the Tomb, leading Patty's attention to it. Her voice ran silent with the information given, looking back to Arnold in disbelief.
"Is that true?" Patty asked.
"He told me the whole story of how he got started. He was forced to do another job for 'Big' Gino, the main drug runner at the time, and he didn't want to. That was the same night the Green Eye appeared, and saved him from having to go back in. Ever since, he went on and on about how he was inspired by the Green Eye, and wanted to be a superhero himself. That's when he became the Star of David. He's saved a lot of lives throughout that time, and inspired a lot of people. He even told me that he saved the life of a baby boy and brought him home to his mom and dad. His only regrets were that he felt like he wasn't doing enough... and that he never got to talk to you again. He tore up dozens of letters trying to send one to you." Arnold said.
"H-Harold... Harold did that?"
Brought further to tears, Patty let out all her emotions without restraint, putting her face in her hands. Offering himself as a place of comfort, Arnold brought her in a hug, leading her to wrap her arms around him and let out her pain through cries both physical and verbal.
Letting out her emotions at last, she turned away from Arnold, heading to the Star of David's statue on the Tomb. Walking to it, she laid a kiss on its foot, giving one last show of affection to Harold in his absence. Satisfied with her feelings let out, she turned to Arnold one last time to thank him.
"Thank you for telling me that. Thank you for being a good friend to Harold. I'm proud of him. He was a hero." Patty said.
Giving a nod, Arnold followed with some degree of a smile, leaving Patty to continue mourning.
Walking softly among the lost and the grieved, Rhonda was accompanied by her new benefactor of Vlad, providing her a shoulder to rest on and escort her through. More than familiar with affairs of the afterlife, Vlad takes responsibility for the regained life, guiding it back along to the world of the living.
The escort eventually brought the two near Helga Pataki, who found her own place of contemplation with Gerald and Phoebe. Watching the group talk together, Rhonda watched them share what seemed like one peaceful moment among the crowd, with a friendship still held strong, like a diamond in the rough.
Watching each party share a hug, then go their separate ways, Rhonda approached to share her own words, leaving Vlad behind temporarily.
Confronting Helga carefully, Rhonda stayed silent, not knowing the right words to say to address what rested between them. Helga, conversely, had no such difficulty. True to her nature as a poet and writer, the words she needed to convey her feelings were more than available to her...
...but not so easy to speak.
"Arnold told me what you did to him." Helga said.
Rhonda's face showed shame from the point, but she did not let it deter her from what she needed to say.
"I know. It's something I have to live with, too. If it makes any difference, he was trying his best to think of you while it happened. He still loves you very much." Rhonda said.
Helga reacted to the news with a conflicted face, hiding many mixed emotions. Moving on to another topic, she addressed instead her new powers.
"You and him are the same. Being Spirit Masters, I mean. What's it like?" Helga asked.
"Like seeing everyone naked, torn to pieces, and transparent all at once. I see every little piece of them working together. I can see what other people feel, and feel it just like them. Like I'm the same person as them." Rhonda said.
"I've wanted to be with Arnold like that. To have what he has. To really be his equal. Even if it would torment me every day, I would've done it to share it with him. But it's something that I can never share with him. You have a bond with him that I can't have."
"I didn't ask to have it. I didn't want it."
"I know. I want to hate you for what you did to him... but I can't. Because I know you've had a lot happen to you, too, had a lot taken away from you."
"So did he. And I took a part of him, too."
Not liking where the conversation was heading, they once again moved to a different topic of conversation, trying to keep to pleasant ones.
"But he's not gone. He's just lost right now. You can help him." Rhonda said.
"How? He isn't even sure if he loves me anymore." Helga said.
"He'll always love you. That much I'm sure of."
"Get real. How exactly do you know that? From your stupid origami marriage predictor?"
"When you were first in a hospital bed with your heart shot, I was there with him when he was looking for news on you, when I offered mine. Once they said that you needed a new heart, he immediately offered his to you without thinking. He was willing to give his life to save yours. The moment I saw him react like that, and watch his eyes fade when they said his wouldn't take, I knew he was yours forever."
Hearing the news given to her, Helga gained some courage to speak to him again, finding her low demeanor brought back from the news. Looking to the wall of names, she saw him still sitting and reading through name after name, having a deep desire to go and reconcile at last.
Turning to Rhonda, she gave her one last word before moving to do so.
"Thank you." Helga said.
"For what?" Rhonda asked.
"For saving my life."
Turning back away, Helga stepped towards Arnold, preparing to reconcile at last from the events of Hellwood.
Moving down a grassy hill to the names, she watched Arnold rise up from the ground, having read out the last of the names on the list. With his business concluded, he turned and prepared to make his way elsewhere, only to find Helga standing before him, forcing him to address her.
The two stood apart from each other for a long moment before speaking, each having their own personal reasons to stay silent towards each other.
"Hey Arnold." Helga said.
Helga's greeting finally broke the silence, but it did little to get a reaction out of Arnold. Instead, he continued to stare at her, not speaking a single word.
"Hey Arnold? Are you okay?" Helga asked.
"My parents are dead. All my friends are dead. The home I tried to save and protect is dead. Even my enemies are dead. Do you really think I'm okay, Helga?" Arnold asked.
"No, I mean... Do you need help? Is there something I can do to help you? Can I make you feel better?"
Helga stepped closer and grabbed one of Arnold's hands, holding it in her own.
"C'mon, I know you're not okay. But I want to make you okay again, because I love you. You still love me. Don't you?" Helga asked.
Arnold maintained his cold attitude, still showing no affection towards Helga, even going so far as to retract his hand.
"I don't love you anymore." Arnold said.
Shocked to hear the words come from Arnold's mouth, Helga covered her own with a gasp, not able to process the words that came to her ears.
"What? You don't love me anymore? Why not?" Helga asked.
"We were never really in love." Arnold said.
"What do you mean?"
"The only reason you and I got together is because you had no other positive influences in your life except me, according to you. The only thing that even gave you any affection over me is when I held an umbrella over your head when we were toddlers. That's literally the only reason you've cared about me in the first place."
"We were both little kids then. We've had time to think further about our feelings and how we feel about each other. But like you said, you were the only positive thing that I had in my life at the time. You still were for the longest time. I always admired how nice you were to everyone. Even me at my worst. You never pushed me away, no matter how far I pushed you."
"Because I try to be nice to everyone. I try to give as much as I can. Friends are supposed to give to each other. But all you ever did was take."
"I didn't have any way to give back. You know how I was with my parents and how they were with me. I didn't know how to be kind like you. I came from a totally different world than you. But sometimes opposites can attract. Like I was attracted to you... and how you were attracted to me."
"Attraction isn't everything. Trust is another. I was always willing to trust you with everything in my life, but you weren't willing to trust me at all. You went to Seattle so you could get a pregnancy test and you didn't tell me about it, much less the results. And you didn't tell me about Baise-Moi, either."
"I didn't want you to feel disappointed in me. I wanted to give you a future, a legacy, but I felt so bad that I couldn't give you that. To tell you that I was barren. It would've been like admitting that I was broken."
"A barren womb doesn't mean you're broken. You know and I know that's not the kind of person I am. You knew I would've accepted it just fine, and you didn't even try to tell me. When I first confronted you on it after the phone call, you lied to my face. I thought that I taught you better than that."
"What do you mean, 'teaching'? What I am, some pet to you? Some student? Do you just expect me to learn everything about you and become you? Relationships aren't just one-sided, you know. It's about sharing with each other."
"I was sharing with you. I was also trying to help you. You said yourself that you had a bad childhood and not many people who cared for you. I was doing my best to help you and make you someone better. Like I believed you could be. I was doing everything I could to fix the damage that was done to you. But that wasn't enough for you. You still wanted danger and you wanted to cause problems. Everything was going so good for you that you needed to sabotage it all."
"I didn't want to sabotage it. I didn't want to ruin anything. I know I can be difficult. I'm just so scared of everything coming down. But you were always there to fix it back up again. You made everything okay again. You always fixed it."
"That was my mistake. I thought I was helping you this whole time, but, in reality, I haven't done anything but perpetuate this... farce of a relationship. You're not fit to be in a relationship. You're co-dependent."
"Then isn't that all the reason not to leave me? You know I need you. You know I can't survive without you."
Helga placed herself up to Arnold, hoping that he would warm up to her at last, but Arnold did no such thing; pushing her away.
"And you're selfish. The death of an entire city, all the people living in it, and all you can think about is keeping me to yourself." Arnold said.
"Don't I deserve it? It was my home, too, Arnold. I loved it, too. We all had the same friends. I loved your parents and they loved me. I lost just as much as you. We've still got this. We belong together." Helga said.
Yet still giving no affection towards Helga, Arnold coldly stared her down, delivering the final words that he would allow himself to say to her.
"Go fuck yourself." Arnold said.
Stepping away and leaving Helga, Arnold left behind a woman with a broken heart, standing in place silently to process what had just come to her ears. Standing in silence, her body remained idle, left mouth ajar and eyes watering to give many tears soon to come.
Moving towards a trash can, Arnold pulled out the costume of the Green Eye, holding it over the waste receptacle. He let it stay in his hands for a brief moment before dropping it in, taking the time to take one last look at it before finally ridding it from his life, the man the costume made disposed with it.
Releasing it, he dropped it in, leaving it hanging from the side. Stepping to an empty spot of the field, he opened his mind to contact the last family he had.
Luz. Take me home. Arnold said.
Arnold... Surely you cannot leave Helga like this. For all the times she has fought for you, all the love she has given to you, can you really throw it away so easi- Luz began to say.
I said... Take me home.
Very well.
Channeling his powers into Arnold, Luz granted him a temporary power of flight, letting him lift off the ground. The lift soon changed to that of a full flight, taking him off the field and sending flying away from the ruins of the city towards one that would open him with warmer arms: San Lorenzo.
No longer able to stand, Helga finally fell to the ground, grasping herself in a fetal position. Her chest felt as if it were being crushed by a tremendous weight; piercing and crippling her in the worst way she could possibly suffer. Taking in labored breaths just to keep herself alive, her exhales were those of loud screams, accompanied by cries of agony.
Her suffering lasted a long period, with none around to come to her aide. Had no one come to her aide, perhaps she would have perished then and there without witness.
But there was still one person who still showed care to her. Coming up from the hill was the older sister of Helga, Olga Pataki. Searching around for her sister after all services had ended, she finally found her sibling as she desired, but found her in a terrible state of pain.
Running down the hill to her side, Olga cradled Helga in her arms, gently rocking her to calm her down. Her efforts were as best as she could offer to her sister, but such measures only had so much effect on the girl. Still continuing to hold her and cradle her, Olga did not give up her.
Waiting in the memorial for what seemed like hours, and what could very well have been hours, Helga's cries eventually began to subside, though not fully stop. Wiping away the last of the tears, Olga put a light kiss on Helga's cheek, still showing her own comfort to heal her.
Rather than try to waste her time with any hollow statements to assure her all would be well, Olga simply said...
"Hey Helga. Let's go home." Olga said.
Olga helped Helga off the ground on her feet again, bringing her to walk on her own. Carrying her over to her car, she seated Helga and buckled her in, closing the door. Walking over to the driver's seat, she buckled herself in and started the car, beginning to drive away to her home for Helga to stay.
Not wanting to disturb her with music or other means of stimulation, Olga remained silent for the trip, letting Helga sit in silence.
Reaching into her pocket, Helga pulled out her prized possession of the locket containing Arnold's picture, still keeping it safe with her after many years. Inside was the same photograph of Arnold, but on the opposite side was a photograph of the two together, happy and in love.
Unable to bear looking at either picture, disgusted by the locket in her hands, she rolled down the window to the car, throwing it outside. It landed somewhere in the river outside the road, sinking to the bottom of the water, never to be seen again or to be found.
"Helga? What was that?" Olga asked.
"Nothing, Olga. Nothing at all." Helga said.
[Soundtrack Cue: Rage Against the Machine - Beautiful World; Plays Out]