Chapter 28
The Soft Master trudges on with his story, and he continues to prevent me from moving him away from the door or hurting him with very little apparent effort.
"You slipped some kind of locating device on him. He found it but brought it along when he came to see me to give me the latest developments, expecting that if he hung around away from his base long enough, you'd show up to talk. He told me he thought Cobra had erased your memories to manipulate you, and he felt they would have had no reason to do that if you were working for them willingly. He saw it as a confirmation of the impression he had when you escaped custody. I felt you were most likely playing mind games with him."
I know I shouldn't care what he says, but his accusing ME of playing mind games, when I'm having so much trouble resisting his attempts to flip my own mind, completely enrages me. I scream at him and ignoring the fact it didn't work earlier, completely abandon my guard and attack him furiously.
He swipes my legs. I fall on my hands and try to kick him back. He grabs my ankle, swings me around and throws me into a wall. I bounce back on my feet and adopt a defensive stance, mentally calling myself an idiot: I'm making the exact same mistakes I was warning Billy against just yesterday.
I need to calm down and think this through. Getting angry is getting me nowhere; I need to go back to my strategy to tire him out. That would be easier if I wasn't both hungry and tired myself. He starts talking again, looking perfectly calm. His pulse is a bit higher than it was earlier, and his breathing is a bit shallow, but all in all, he's nowhere near done yet. I'm fairly fresh too, physically, but mentally, I'm running out of time.
The implanted memories are multiplying as we fight and as he talks, and thanks to his talking about things I remember, what I've been fearing for three years is happening: I'm having trouble sorting my true recollections from the fake ones sent by the Order.
I'm thankfully not yet at the point that I believe any of the more fanciful tales the Order has been spinning, but I honestly can't tell whether any of the flashes I'm getting about my childhood are real or not. I know I didn't remember anything when I first woke up, but I'm no longer comfortably certain they're not real memories surfacing. I want to be certain, because logically, I can't risk falling for the Order's tricks, but my head can't quite convince my heart anymore.
And he's still talking.
"I had to laugh at him when he came back a little while later. He had run into you, and insisted you tried to get away from the civilians by yourself. He told me how you ended up fighting on top of a moving commuter train, and how you seemed genuinely convinced some kind of World Order had killed your whole clan, and how you had concluded that his being alive and fighting for GI Joe had to mean he was brainwashed. He finished by telling me he made you jump after him between two wagons just before you found yourself splattered against the entrance of a tunnel. That's the part that made me laugh – I pointed out to him that you would have recognized the sound of the air going through the tunnel and that, therefore, you knew perfectly well it was coming and how close it was."
My eyes widen a bit. I suppose my uncle WOULD realize that, but if he's not actually related to me, or even if he is but with all his real memories erased, how could he realize I'd have heard the tunnel coming when Snake Eyes had no idea? It takes me a second to finally guess that Snake Eyes did realize it and was playing me as much as I was playing him.
I gulp and unsheathe my short sword. This is becoming ridiculous… he's still a long way from being too tired to resist my attempts at dislodging him or killing him, and I'm literally losing my mind a bit more with every word he says.
"He turned the joke on me and argued that your testing him and then calling a truce and letting him run away was another sign that you weren't as bad as I thought. He managed to convince me to investigate into the matter with an open mind, although I still thought I'd only end up confirming you were beyond redemption and just playing some kind of cruel game with him."
Just like when he first implied that my brother no longer thought me a traitor and a murderer, I feel a mixture of relief and gratitude wash over me at the thought the Soft Master is actually opening his mind too.
The feeling is the last sign I needed to confirm that I am doomed: I can't fend off this assault against my mind. I should never have waited this long before turning myself back in to Mindbender, I should have put Billy on a plane to Australia or somewhere equally removed from the sight of both Cobra and GI Joe and went straight back to the fortress…
Instead of trying to help him reunite with his father, instead of trying to fix everything… all I've accomplished is condemn us both. I won't be able to rescue him now, I won't avenge my family, I won't free Snake Eyes. My options have been reduced to becoming a slave as well, to finally give the Order what they've been after and spend the rest of my life doing their bidding, or to make myself unavailable to them permanently. Option one means the Order ends up with all of us at their disposal, option two means they have at least one less ninja serving them.
The man is still talking, but I'm finally able to ignore him. I trust my sword towards my own throat.
It never reaches. Next thing I know, the weapon is out of my hand and I'm pinned under him. I scream and desperately try to shove him off, to no avail. He's got me immobilized.
"As I was saying," he continues, "your brother was already convinced you were under Cobra's mind control and that led him to conclude you had only ever served them reluctantly. When you helped him against one of your fellow Cobra, you cemented his resolve to get you back to your own self and find out why you had EVER been with Cobra. He expected to find out Cobra could deliver to you the person who would have framed you for the murder of my brother. He gave you a note he had prepared, but you ripped it to shreds before reading it all and he ended up having to seize the first opening you gave him to incapacitate you. He feared if he let you walk away in better shape than he was himself, your next encounter with GI Joe could lead to a lot of casualties. His radio cut in at this point to tell him you had killed a group of rookies, but you took advantage of his momentary distraction to escape. Your brother was now facing a dilemma: he thought you were a victim, but he couldn't let you be a danger to his team mates."
I automatically think that my brother's first loyalty had always been with the American Army, not with the clan, as evidenced by his intention to leave and his refusal to earn wages – I suddenly know that refusal was due to the fact that he couldn't, as a soldier, be a mercenary for hire. Worse yet, I 'remember' never having figured this out before. I immediately label it all as false, but the fact it came to mind so easily, so naturally, terrifies me.
I scream and concentrate every ounce of will and strength I have into pushing him off me. He stays put with no more apparent effort than if I were a child. I'm completely powerless.
"I must thank you again for this opportunity, Commander," Mindbender says.
My heart starts hammering. I do NOT like the sound of this. I try to force myself to calm down, but without even being able to control my breathing, it's no easy task. It becomes altogether impossible as he continues.
"The results you want will require wiping his memory practically clear, and then rebuilding. Such a complete change will make it easy to tell how well the treatments are working. And if what you told me about his powers of retention is true…" the doctor trails off, sounding blissful.
I try moving again. I concentrate every ounce of will and strength I have in an effort to just clench my fist. As far as I can tell, nothing happens.
This can't be happening.
My eyes widen. It's not true, it can't be… Cobra RESCUED me. The Order…
"Please, Tommy," the Soft Master says, interrupting my train of thoughts. His voice is soft, almost cajoling. "Think back. I know you remember, I know that's why you're so afraid right now."
"No…" I moan weakly. "You're handing me over to them... how can you…?"
I groan as I remember too late he's not who my memories make him out to be and doesn't actually have any reason NOT to do this to me. Just as I realize as much, another memory washes over me. I see myself and both my uncles in an office, arguing. I'm upset because they made me work for a mass murderer, the head of a terrorist organization called Cobra.
My eyes narrow, as much at myself for being unable to control my own mind as at him for taking advantage of it. If only he wasn't also preventing me from controlling my body and killing myself… My eyes widen again as it suddenly dawns on me that the technique I know as the Sleeping Phoenix can put me back in control if I simply overdo it. He's got me pinned down so well that I can't move my limbs, but he can't prevent me from slowing down my pulse just a bit too much.
I immediately close my eyes to concentrate and to enter into the trance. He starts pinching and hitting my pressure points as he talks, and between the pain and my growing panic, I never get anywhere near the amount of concentration I need. Through it all, he continues to talk.
"Your brother has been trying to jog your memory ever since. A few weeks ago, he found out from you that his efforts were working better than he knew, but also that you thought these memories were false and that you had apparently been getting rid of them methodically. On that day, you explained to him that you had finally decided the only way to free him was to kill him. You actually tried, but you lost your nerve when you drew blood. This is what finally convinced me: that scenario made no sense unless you really were under mind control, and more importantly, it established what should have been obvious all along: you're incapable of hurting one of us."
I whimper. Again, I feel practically elated at the thought of someone figuring out I was innocent, a feeling spurred by the Order's fictions.
"You didn't kill the Hard Master. I'm sure of it. I should have known right from the start…" he trails off briefly. "Knowing that, my guess is the same as your brother's: Cobra knew who did and sold you the information in exchange for so many years of services, payment to be made at the end of the contract. But when you found out, they brainwashed you to prevent you from killing whoever it was and quite possibly the Commander, too. So, Tommy, who did it?"
The question sends my heart into overdrive because the answer presents itself automatically, and as much as I try, I can't make myself not believe it. It's not even a memory, it's just something I suddenly know, and I know it with just as much certainty as I know the sky is blue.
"Zartan," I breathe.
My vision blurs and after a moment, I realize the screams I'm hearing are from me.
I expect my mind to suddenly go blank, or to suddenly forget everything I know about the Order. Now that my mind has been cracked open, I expect it will basically collapse quickly and neatly. The selfish part of me horribly reflects that at least, things will be easier and I'll be happier being a brainless slave.
Instead of a quick collapse, however, what I feel is closer to a slow trickle that gradually intensifies into a torrent. Memories, facts and feelings all force their way into my brains and my convictions only change slowly.
By the time I'm finally convinced that no organization, no matter how powerful and inventive, could make all this up and download it straight to my brains; by the time I realize that everything I thought the Order tried to do, Cobra did and then some; by the time I finally stop fighting the memories as an intrusion and realize I'm actually healing, I find my screams have subsided into whimpers and I'm huddled in a shaking ball, feeling, above anything else, completely exhausted.
I lift my head – the motion makes it hurt enough to make me nauseous - and look up wearily. I'm still remembering random things, and although it's no longer frightening or even confusing, it's distracting and I think it's making my headache worse.
The Soft Master is sitting a few feet from me, looking at me. I look right back down because I can't deal with him right now. I don't know what to say, I don't even know what to feel. I want to punch him and hug him all at once.
"Smart young apprentice, you've found," he says.
Settling into a safe subject… I suppose that works. I nod but I can't think of anything to say in reply.
"He was wandering the neighbourhood, hoping to run into Snake Eyes or to find why Snake Eyes might be here every now and then, when he spotted the bottom third of my tattoo. He walked right up to me and asked me if my name was Arashikage."
I try to think of something to answer, but nothing comes. My thoughts are on the night he sentenced me to death, and on the fact I've probably earned the sentence fifty times over since.
"I brought him inside and we had a little chat. I called Snake Eyes when I found out who he was, and convinced them to let me confront you." He pauses for a moment. "Talk, Tommy. Don't make me talk about the weather, next."
"I…" I start, then stop again. It's not that there's nothing on my mind, but I don't know where to start.
"There's a dream I kept having," I finally mutter. "In it, my brother brought me to you, and you injected me with some kind of truth serum, and eventually believed I was innocent."
"I don't think you would have been able to change my mind," he states. "Your brother let you go because he was convinced bringing you in would only guarantee you a painful death. I wish I could say he was wrong, but honestly… he probably wasn't."
"I don't know what I'll do after I've killed Zartan and the Commander. I've considered turning myself in to you and letting you kill me without telling you I had been framed, just to speed things up."
The thought of killing the two of them triggers the memory of trying, right after finding out Zartan was my uncle's murderer. I shudder as I remember the pain and how it was nothing in comparison to what happened when I came to, completely paralyzed and powerless.
My eyes suddenly widen in realization. The chip. The chip is still in my head, they probably know I'm back to myself. I spring to my feet.
The Soft Master looks at me quizzically as I peel my ears for anything coming towards us. I feel the blood drain from my face when I notice a whole bunch of Cobra helicopters headed this way. I curse loudly about hissing men who won't give up.
"Tommy?" the Soft Master asks. "What is it?"
"Cobra is coming, they know I remember, and they know where I am. They were probably able to locate the chip when it transmitted its warning." I do a quick count. "Fifteen helicopters, ten one-seaters, five two-seaters. We're not going to be able to fight them off," I say, starting to panic as I suddenly realize the extent of the problem.
"Follow me. We need to get them away from this neighbourhood," he says, shooting out of the trapdoor before I can stop him.
"Never mind the neighbourhood!" I shout, following. "We can't beat them and they can find us wherever we go!"
I catch up to him and grab his shoulders to spin him around.
"I'm sorry," I say urgently, trying to get out everything I need to say in as few seconds as possible. "I'm sorry for everything. I should have saved him, I heard the arrow and just shook my head because I thought it was that stupid whistling again. I should have stayed with him when he was dying instead of running off after the murderer. I'm sorry for pretty much everything since then. I can't let them catch me again, I can't…"
"Tomisaburo… shut up already," he interrupts me. "I am NOT letting you kill yourself. For crying out loud, I stopped you twice already, I can do it a few more times. We're going to get as much in the open as we can so they don't start blowing things up to get at us, fight them off, and then go to the Pit."
"We can't beat them!" I cry out. "I'm exhausted, and I can tell YOU're tired too! We can't defeat 15 armed helicopters AND whatever reinforcements they're going to call if we somehow manage to give them the least bit of trouble!"
He scowls at me, forcibly reminding me of the Hard Master and making me realize he hasn't smiled much since I got back to the tower.
"You have a better idea that does NOT involve your dying?" As he talks, he grabs my arm and starts running again, forcing me to follow. He's going extremely slowly by our usual standards, yet I still find myself struggling to follow.
"I'm better off dead than in the hands of Cobra again!" I protest.
The helicopters are approaching fast, and desperation forces me into full disclosure.
"UNCLE, PLEASE!" I scream at him. "I don't' want to be responsible for YOUR death, too!"
He only slows down for the space of two steps before shaking his head and accelerating again. I try to pry his hand off mine but I don't dare dig in my heels and slow him down even more. We manage to get to ground level before the helicopters catch up to us, and between our screaming and the Cobra helicopters approaching, most of the civilians get the hint and clear out the area in record time.
We position ourselves back to back instinctively, but the helicopters do the obvious and start shooting us, forcing us apart to avoid the shots. I take out my bow and shoot at the pilot of the nearest one, putting as much strength as I can into the shot, which isn't saying much right now. Thankfully, my arrow still reaches and embeds itself in his throat. He crumbles lifelessly and, no longer being controlled, the one-seater starts flying erratically. The others manage to avoid it and shoot its engine, causing it to plummet towards the ground.
Meanwhile, I've attached an explosive to my next arrow and I shoot it at the engine of a two-seaters. The helicopter blows up quite nicely and what's left of it goes down in a hail of fire.
I listen for the Soft Master and my eyes widen: I can't hear him. I look around frantically, desperately telling myself that he's fine and that I can't hear him simply because the helicopters are making too much noise. I finally spot him and blink before I grin: he's just swung inside a one-seater, kicking the pilot out. I have no idea how he got so high and I don't have the luxury to try and figure it out. I dodge some more missiles from the helicopters and shoot towards another one-seater pilot. I can't put enough strength in my shot and my arrow bounces limply on his armor. I curse out loud – my arms have no strength left and I can't think of another attack strategy. I dive sideways to avoid the next round of fire directed at me and I start looking around for a way to get higher without exposing myself as an easy target.
I find none, but I hear one of the one-seaters coming shakily at me. I take my sword out, ready to slice the pilot in half as a reward for his stupidity – diving right for me when he's obviously not even a good pilot, honestly! - but I sheath it right back when I realize the clumsy pilot is the Soft Master, trying to give me the ride up I needed. I jump on, hanging on to the side of the cockpit.
"How did you…?" I start.
He snorts. "You really ARE tired; too tired to think, obviously. I climbed up one of the buildings. Now shoot." He adds, throwing me a rope.
I use the rope to tie myself up to the handle I was gripping and take out my bow again, attaching as before an explosive to my arrow.
"And where did you learn to fly?" I ask, shooting at one of the helicopters and blowing up its engine.
"I knew I was getting tangled with Cobra and GI Joe, and I knew they use a lot of flying vehicles, so I had Snake Eyes sneak me into a few simulators over the past few months, just in case it might come in handy."
I take down one more helicopter before Cobra finally manages to hit us. The engine goes up in flames and we're both forced to jump for it before it explodes – I'm a second slower than the Soft Master because I have to cut the rope I'm tied with, so I see him land and although he rolls, he stays down.
I roll too and grunt in pain. That was too high, too fast: I broke one of my arms and I think my back is injured, too. I get up and use my good arm to help the Soft Master up: he leans on me, avoiding his left leg – I can guess it's broken.
As soon as he's up, he turns my head around towards him and launches into the hypnotic sequence necessary to put us both in the Arashikage mindset – I swallow and follow suit. With nobody around to get us back to sanity, he wouldn't be doing this if he expected to survive the battle; he's decided we were going to do as much damage as possible before going down. The parallel between this and what I've spent over three years believing to be my only real memory is unnerving, but I stop caring almost as soon as the thought forms: the mindset is taking hold and pushing every thought, every sensation away, except for the single objective that will become the only thing to matter to me until I die or the trance is broken. The pain from my injuries dim with each syllable we utter, and by the time I realize that I'm only assisting and won't get a say in what he defines the objective to be, I don't care at all.
I nod when he tells me that the objective is for me to survive the fight and then get out of the mindset. I realize I wouldn't be happy about this if I had all my senses, but even the knowledge that I'd normally object makes no impression on my resolve. I have my mission, I WILL fulfill it.
Our best chance of survival is to take down all the enemies, so that's the first thing we try to do. We face the helicopters again and we both scale the closest buildings to climb up to them and kick the pilots out before they have the slightest chance to react. I don't feel tired at all anymore – in fact, I've never felt better. I'm still aware of my injuries, but only in the sense that I know I can't rely on my broken arm as much as usual and that I need to avoid twisting my back if I can help it. Similarly, the Soft Master scaled the wall using mostly his arms and his right leg, only using his broken left leg for the occasional balancing.
We turn our newly acquired helicopters against the others and we're honestly doing well, being down to only two opponents, when reinforcements show up. I can hear fighter jets approaching, missiles start shooting from the ground, and a glance reveals Zartan and about twenty dreadnocks and various cobra agents have arrived. At the same time, the chip in my head activates.
I don't actually feel the pain beyond being aware that it's there, but it's affecting my senses – I'm blinded by imaginary light, my ears are filled with a low humming sound that blocks most everything else, and I'm dizzy, making what little I can see of the World spin madly.
I still somehow manage to dodge the ground-air missiles and the Soft Master does as well, presumably with more ease than me despite his inferior flying skills. However, the last two enemy helicopters manage to damage our own enough that we have to crash land and suddenly, we're on the ground, without working vehicles, with fighter jets seconds away from being in range to shoot us, dreadnocks aiming at us and grinning like maniacs, and helicopters still firing at us. And I can't see or hear properly, and standing up is a challenge.
We charge for the dreadnocks. I'm keeping my eyes fixed on them and letting my legs run automatically without attempting to guess where the ground actually is, intent on stealing their ground-to-air missile launchers. They're obviously shocked when they see us coming towards them rather than running away, but they recover quickly enough to aim their hand weapons at us.
I again let my body do the work and ignore the fact I don't really know which way is down, and successfully dodge everything they throw at us. I don't know whether the Soft Master will make it: between his size and his broken leg reducing his mobility, he's an easier target than I am. My survival chances are much lower without my only ally, but at the same time, I can't risk trying to assist him. The objective is for me to survive, not him.
I'm on top of the dreadnocks and I've slit one's throat already when I ear a missile launching from one of the small ground-to-air launcher tower. I'm surrounded with nowhere to dive, and knowing that the dreadnocks closest to me will most likely be killed when the missile impacts me and explodes is very small comfort. I briefly consider using one of the bikers as a shield, but I can't grab one and throw him towards the missile fast enough for the explosion to occur more than a step away from me: I still wouldn't survive it.
I try jumping, already knowing I can't get high enough in time to avoid it but hoping to survive a lower body injury. I can't fail my mission, I HAVE to survive.
The Missile doesn't reach me. Seemingly out of nowhere, the Soft Master jumps in front of me and pushes me as far back as I can go. The missile impacts him and explodes, taking him with it and violently pushing me into the dreadnocks behind me, who are thrown backwards as well. Thanks to the mindset, I only feel the slightest regret at my uncle's death, and mostly because it reduces my chances of succeeding in my mission. I do, however, faintly realize that once I'm out of the mindset, I'm likely to lose it completely – he died trying to save me, and therefore, because of me. The knowledge, right now, has about as much emotional weight as my knowing what colour underwear I'm wearing.
I scramble back up, singed but mostly unharmed, and take advantage of the dreadnocks' confusion to take out four more of them. I don't reach the missile launcher before the fighter jets get in range, however.
I hate laser weapons. Thanks to light being faster than sound, I feel the searing pain in my lower back before I hear the gun firing and suddenly, I can't feel or control my legs anymore. I take out my bow while I'm falling and aim at the sky, but the fighter jets are still well out of my reach. A new shot burns a deep hole through my right shoulder and my arm stops responding properly.
"Surrender, Storm Shadow. You can't win this battle," Zartan's voice calls out.
He's right and we both know it. I can't fight back against fighter jets that my arrows can't reach when neither my eyes nor my ears are working properly, my balance is off and none of my limbs are anywhere near fully functional. Even if I somehow managed to get close to the missile launcher, the fighter jet could simply blow it up to take me out.
More importantly, the objective was to survive, not to win, and I'm much more likely to succeed in that if I surrender then if I try to continue fighting in my current state. This makes my next move an obvious choice.
"I surrender," I say, depositing my bow and arrow and lifting my hands above my head.
Zartan's eyes widen in shock. I can't say I blame him - if it were my choice, I WOULD rather die than fall under Cobra's hands again. The choice, however, is not mine: I have to survive this fight, I have to fulfill the mission given to me.
Zartan looks at me for a second, trying to read my intentions, and throws a tranquilizer dart at me. I catch it with my left arm, aggravating my fracture.
"Stab yourself in the neck with this, and I'll accept your surrender," Zartan states.
I don't hesitate – once my surrender is accepted, I know I won't be killed: the Commander will want me in his service again to at the very least continue to counter my brother. Therefore, this one gesture completes my mission.
I stab myself in the side of my neck with the tranquilizer dart, causing the liquid inside to release into my bloodstream. The first part of my mission being completed, the mindset dissolves to satisfy the second objective I was given.
The impersonal information that my head is on fire automatically becomes genuine pain. At the same time, the knowledge I will become Cobra's puppet again rips my heart to pieces and the fact that the Soft Master died trying to save me vaporizes what's left. I hear myself scream just before all the sounds around me fade into nothingness.
Author's Notes:
I'm sorry. I'm SO sorry.
(hides)