"You know you never deserved her, you bastard." The wretched, dark voice seemed to bubble up the cobblestone stairway. It only gave him a moment's pause before he resumed the same pace, tapping his cane on the steps with disturbing rhythm. The chuckle followed soon after, so laced with venom and hatred that even he flinched.
A screen was thrust beneath his face, his signature scribbled hastily across it's face before the cell door cringed and whined open. The bone-thin face beyond caught fragments of light filtering in through a hole in the ceiling; surely this hell's only means of light short of dim crystals. The cane finally slid to a resting place bare inches from the cell's opening.
The two regarded each other silently; so different it seemed nothing could be similar between them. Nothing, perhaps, but base desire. Their methods and tactics, however, made all the difference. His enemy sneered through the bars, yellowed teeth a testament of his time spent within the dungeons of the palace.
"Prisoner 0001, aka the Doom Phantom, as requested sire." A faceless guard replaced the profile on the short screen with health stats, options to view recent activities. They were ignored. Coldly, dark eyes burned into this creature with every ounce of hatred that could be felt. Because of him, one day this glowing crystal world would lay in ruin, all that he loved would be lost and forgotten as the spirit of Earth was slowly eaten away by pestilence, parasite, and death.
"Oh, no need to be so formal, my king," the bony face grinned up at him, eyes like shards of broken glass. "We know each other on much more personal terms, don't we?"
It was the same game every time; still he could not force the visits to end. Year after year, he would come, would stare this man in the face and hope, perhaps behind all availability of hope, that he had somehow died. The order could always be given, yet the consequences had been very clearly defined before Pluto sacrificed herself in the line of duty.
To alter a single major decision could send this world skittering away into a void of unknown variables, and that of itself was almost enough to hold him at bay. He liked knowing what lay ahead, even when it meant pain and death and destruction for the people supposedly under his charge. It was the only responsible thing he could adhere to; the idea that help would come from the past…
"Say it, king. Say my name. Out loud, now, so we all know what I am."
Often times, he would wonder what had drawn the Doom phantom to his baby daughter. Knowing many years in advance that this was the case had left him curious, angry, perhaps resentful that one so young should have to endure such a harsh experience. Black Lady was, or would be, just another facet to her complex being, just as her mother held facets like a diamond.
The command was ignored as he turned finally to the readouts, flipping through with little interest and less desire. It was all about looking that face head on, knowing the one thing that would destroy him in the end. Her light, as it had always been, as it always would be, so brilliant and shining that even a shadow from centuries into the past could destroy this darkness. Only she could do it, and yet he had kept her in the dark about this monster in his closet.
Every year, he wondered if he should tell her the real identity of their rebel leader. Every year, he would agonize about the implications while this raving madman would froth and scream and rage from a mile beneath their feet.
Every year.
The man sighed, set his cane against the ground again and leaned on it for a moment of thought. The creature behind bars was cackling, howling and fumbling around his tiny cell like a caged marionette on strings. The protrusions and misshapen proportions were a testament of his workings before, even during the creation of Crystal Tokyo. It was yet another reminder why, and how, this world had come into being.
She must never know.
The past was turbulent, and the dispersion of Chaos should have gone beautifully into the files of the Senshi along with Mistress Nine, Nehelenia, and Beryl. Unfortunately, it was not to be. There was no telling when or how such a thing could have occurred, why it had to be him, of all people…
He shook his head, turned, and began the long trek up the stairs. His prisoner was frothing now, nearly lost to hysterics as the second gate was closed and barred again. He would remain here for another year, maybe two, before they could pinpoint the shadow orbit of Nemesis; before they could send this unholy creature deep into the void.
Perhaps the real solution would be the hunt and destruction of the Black Moon Clan before they could make contact with the rogue planet. Perhaps then they could sustain peace farther into the future…
Or, have a civil war break out among the plebeians. A wry smile tugged his mouth at the thought.
Maybe it was this momentary break in his somber demeanor, but for the first time ever, he turned back to view the sorry jumble of hair and twisted limbs.
"I'm sorry, Umino-san." Endymion whispered quietly, for once his tired eyes lost in melancholy.
Perhaps the real answer would have been to save Naru.
.
.
…..
BAM! Didn't see that one coming, did you? HA! Also, we haven't had internet, but we do now! So I've been writing. And editing. I think I'm on draft 90 of SoulBound, so…yeah…sorry.
MORE TO COME!