Old Friends, New Problems
Waking up from what he deemed a suitable nap, Grinder was sitting in the red grass next to him, holding a bloody knife.
"A-Man, sit down. I hear you need to talk." The Jamaican looked up at his helmeted friend. "And take off the helmet, mate, no need to hide here."
Once he was seated, Grinder held the knife out to him. "Take it. And try and wipe it on the grass... tell me what happens."
He took the knife in hand, and did as instructed. The blood didn't come off, no matter how much he wiped it on the red grass.
"Its not going to come clean, mate. Try as hard as you want, that blade is stained because of you."
The handle and blade melted down, forming into a human heart. The heart beat, and every beat sent off a black aura, which melted into his hand, causing a burning sensation in his own chest. He took his helmet off, and the heart changed into a mirror, and the reflection was him, but faceless. The only thing there was the scar.
He threw the heart away from him, sending it flying into the red grass. It bounced a few times, and then sank below the red.
"Why'd you do that, mate, decided to be a heartless killer? A dead man walking and killing, all to try and feel alive once more? You just threw away what made you human. For what? Because you're afraid of what you became?" Grinders white eyes bore into him, before the ghost rose to his feet, and started down the hill to get the still beating heart. "Yes, you have a heart, but to you... it's dead. It died the moment you were shot by your best friend... You blame him for its death. And yet... you blame yourself for your own death. I have never seen you act like this."
"And I hope you never see me act like this again. What I do now with my life is my own business. You're gone Grinder, and I'm sorry that you are. I'm moving on with my life. So what if I have to kill those that I used to love. Brandon proved himself to be the enemy, even after I showed him I was alive."
"But you are not alive... you weren't alive to yourself, so what makes you think he will believe that you are alive if even you wont believe it? He trusted your judgment, and believed what you believed. Then.. you go back on your word, and join the enemy. I don't even want to remember knowing you any more, A-man. Rikki should be by soon." With all that said, the Jamaican left, vanishing into the mist at the bottom of the hill.
The heart beat slowly, turning black from the aura.
"Well, I'm guessing Grinder talked to ya, huh? You always did think too much after talks with him. Anyway, look up at me Alex."
Once he looked up, staring into Rikki's white eyes, he turned away, closing his eyes tightly. To see his old friend smile even in death hurt more than anything.
"I know what you are thinking. You wonder how I can still smile stupidly after knowing everything that you have done. Well... look around you, see who's company you now keep."
Agents, many holding their own heads, or trying to hold wounds closed, or resting next to their own legs. All were bloody, crimson soaked through their uniforms. They didn't have the white-eyed gaze of Rikki, but black eyes.
"I want to tell you something about the afterworld, Alex. I want to tell you how I'm white-eyed and still in perfect condition, whereas your victims are still mangled and in pain. Dr. X killed Grinder and myself, and he has no regret or remorse at killing us. He doesn't care. You have regret, you care about them, and therefore, they can and will haunt you. They cannot speak to you, because you will not listen."
" . . . . But what if I want to listen?"
"Then that is your choice." the older ghost sat next to him, looking up at the still green leafed tree above them on the hill. "There is still part of you that is trying to fight what you've become. What your parents taught you about being a good citizen, and then your own desires at being a hero. You are still a hero, and that tree is still there because you know that there are people out there who still believe that you are their hero."
"I'm no ones hero."
"Good thing is though... even if you say it, you don't believe it. But the blood is finding its way into the tree. Save the world Alex, you have more power than ever to do so. I know you fought to the last breath; you fought until you figured that the last thing left was death. He gave you back life, and instilled in your mind that you owed him for saving your life. You don't owe him. Now, go and kick his ass for the people whose lives he made you take out of guilt!"
The last word in the dream jolted him back to the real world with such fright; he leapt off the couch and landed on the floor. He looks at his hands out in front of him, and felt the embers ignite into flames. Now was the time, now he had to turn the tables.
' There are things that I still have to do before I move against them, like... Fidget.' He grabbed his helmet, and left his quarters at a slow pace, trying to act how he felt before. How many people could he fool?