HELLO EVERYBODY! I'm really sorry for the long delay but… actually I'll get to that later. I want to sincerely thank the following people who have been absolutely wonderful, reviewing over the last month. Here goes my thanks to: Gyltig, Randonfire, koipbuiop, phantom1299, Iron Carnotaur, Im Blu, TheGreatAthlon5, DeathDrayanD, Malorn FairyTail, MarbleSky, a guest reader, Clytuis, AresTheUnderlander, BlackWolfUnder, THExPOTxHEAD, TH3 EL3TR1C, another guest reader, Moeez, somerandom, HumanicHedgeHog, another two guest readers, NoahTheOverlander, The Writer of all Mistakes, another guest reader and Bigboyyeah55.
So I've been overseas with the family and I've been sick for a while, which is part of the reason why this chapter has taken so long to be churned out. But another reason is that I don't love writing the way I used to… I've found other more fulfilling things to do in life and that means I want to spend more time enjoying that side of my life too. I'll still be writing because I still intend to finish this story, but I implore all my readers to be patient and to continue to review this story. There's still so much more to come which I want to share with you all!
This chapter is a little boring, but it's necessary and it sets up the chaos for the next chapter. Ready?
This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.
Chapter 25: Going Home
Gregor fidgeted about in the backseat, literally twiddling his thumbs as the car sped down the highway. His eyes grew mistier and mistier as familiar sights along the roadside emerged, pulling him back to a time when hate hadn't controlled him the way it did when he left home. Sure, he had been through harrowing bouts of depression and soul-crushing misery, but there was no hatred embedded in his soul.
He never considered the white farmhouse his home. New York was always going to be the place where the picture of his life was the most vivid and which evoked bittersweet nostalgia.
But that world was gone, and the only physical home in the Overland he was now left with was the one in Virginia. Despite how much pain he had endured living there, he had also experienced a lot of joy. Futile joy, as things eventually panned out, but joy nonetheless.
A little scene stood out above all the rest- it was ages ago, but Gregor could still recall the sight like it happened the day before. He was sitting at the dining table with Lizzie and Boots… It was a morning, the warm, buoyant rays of light filtering through and lying on the tiled floor like sweet honey.
Pancakes, pancakes for breakfast. The first flavour to unfold on his tongue was sugary maple syrup, quickly followed by the delicate, buttery flavor of the pancake itself. Pure bliss. His mother knew how to fry a slice of heaven.
Sunday. Mass had ended. Prayers had been whispered in the hope of better things to come. Having ridden on a wave of religious fervour, Gregor arrived back home feeling tranquil and at peace with his own emotions and regrets. A rare occasion, an occasion to be celebrated with pancakes. Unorthodox way of coping, but Gregor had gone through hell back in New York. He deserved pancakes.
It had been years but he still tasted the sorrow and anguish of having lost people he had grown to care about and love. It was beyond bitter, it tasted… No words to describe it, unfortunately. The taste palette could only detect that much bitterness. But his heart would throb for years and ache every moment he was awake. Sleep was the reprieve he sought at the end of every day. He was constantly emotionally exhausted.
Then came this Sunday morning. His sisters challenged him to a game of naming as many animals as possible, to which he reluctantly agreed. Fun was not to be gorged on- it was to be sampled, delicately tasted every once in a blue moon. Indulging in it would only lead to regret when it suddenly vanished along with hope.
But that morning, as he took a mouthful of pancakes, he took a mouthful of fun as well. His sisters giggled as Lizzie spewed out the names of animals, rattling off each name like a bullet flying out of the nozzle of a machine gun. It was a comprehensive and ruthless victory of her, and it left both Boots and Gregor winded in a bout of laughter.
Gregor glanced up at his parents, who were laughing softly as well. Gregor's father had his arm wrapped around his mother. At that moment, nothing else mattered. Gregor reveled in the unadulterated happiness that consumed the room, radiating sheer delight and ecstasy because for once, for once…
They were all happy.
It was the only time throughout his stay in Virginia when he actually smiled genuinely. Other times it was a well-constructed facade, having practised in front of the mirror enough times to just about cover up the torment of demons from his past. But here, under the smiling sun, Gregor was finally happy.
Then, the journey of his past slowly pivoted towards a darker, more haunted region of his memory.
As if on cue, the sun timidly bowed out of vision as grey clouds rolled in to dull the day. Tears welled up in Gregor's eyes while rain welled up in the clouds as well. Raw pain seized his heart as he suddenly felt so vulnerable, feeling the emotional scars of inflicted not just by his mother's words, but by his own as well.
A slew of profanities tore her down bit by bit, hammering her to breaking point, and in response she had launched hell-inspired fury at him, cursing his journey to New York. In a painful twist of fate, her curse ended up working out- Gregor ended up losing his own way in life when in New York, and he needed Calvin to pull him out of the doldrums.
As tears began to rain down from heaven, Gregor fought to keep his tears stored inside. Crying was a weakness, not something to be put on display. Sobbing on the inside was acceptable, but letting other people see how torn apart you were was always a decision going to come back and hit you where you least expected it to.
He loved his mother. Even after all the words she had used to batter his emotional state to a pulp, he still loved her with all his heart. But they could never really show their love for each other because they had such a radical difference in opinions and beliefs. If other people were embroiled in a genocide, she would stay far away from it as if they were the plague. All that mattered to her was that her family was safe.
But Gregor hated the idea of inaction, especially when others were suffering. As long as he possessed the power to save someone else's life, he had to do it. Because negligence was, to him, almost as bad as committing the crime itself. People in power had the responsibility to use it for the disenfranchised, to protect those who needed love and hope in moments of despair. Gregor had been through that despair… He knew how it felt. And that was why he could never just remain on the sidelines, unlike his mother.
Of course there was that major episode when he refused to fight at all, but barring that existential crisis he faced, he always sought to stretch out a hand to those in need. It was just part of his nature to seek out something greater than himself and to serve it when it began to ail and fall apart.
He had grown attached to the people as well, while his mother continued to view them as foreigners, people who were… different. People whom she couldn't trust with her son's life, despite all they had done to protect him. Had they used him? Yes, but so had his mother. Everybody was just someone else's pawn or tool in the whole scheme of life, after all.
"Are you alright, sir?" Mr Bennett asked, momentarily taking a glance at Gregor through the rearview mirror of the Porsche.
"I'm fine," Gregor grunted as the pouring rain intensified its pace, crashing down with rhythmic tension. "Did… Did Calvin tell you anything else?"
"No, sir," Mr Bennett replied, and Gregor felt for the old man when he heard the fear and anxiety entwined in his voice. "Master Calvin hasn't spoken to me since he left New York. I fear… I fear…"
He trailed off, and Gregor didn't need his rager vision to see Mr Bennett's muscles tensing up as he gripped the wheel even tighter.
"Don't fear," Gregor said, imbuing confidence and strength into his voice even though he was devoid of both. "Calvin is resourceful and smart. I doubt he'll be in any shit."
"Mr Carter should be with him," Mr Bennett added, determined optimism in his tone. "They might be able to make it together."
"Wait, he is?" Gregor said incredulously. "Calvin told me the old man was in jail."
"He was," Mr Bennett confirmed. "I went to the prison facility to tell him about Calvin, so he broke out of jail a couple of hours later to go and help the boy out. I wanted to do it the legal way, but he insisted that the paperwork would take too long. I haven't had the time to check the news yet, because I rushed down as soon as I could to find you, but I do suppose the police have launched a manhunt for him."
Mr Carter was not someone to be underestimated- Calvin had made that abundantly clear when describing him. Ruthless and deadly, he was proficient with swords, daggers, rifles, pistols, hand-to-hand combat… Name an item, and he'd probably used it as a weapon before. Gregor never got the opportunity to know him personally, but by now he was pretty convinced that Mr Carter could match up against a rager on a good day.
Gregor gazed down at his hastily assembled armour and wondered if it would be enough. Following Mr Bennett's frantic declaration that Gregor's family was back in trouble, he immediately rushed back to Regalia to gather his stuff and prepare himself to follow Mr Bennett up. The caretaker had made his way back to the mansion first to get the car ready.
When panic in its unadulterated intensity struck you, your mind ended up in complete pandemonium. Gregor found himself smashing stuff in his room back in Regalia as he tried to sort out his thoughts and actions. Incoherent images stormed forward, panic seizing him as the world seemed to fall apart, piece by piece. He had lost so many people before, people he loved with all his heart and people he would give up his own life for.
But not his family.
Luxa tried to calm him down, but the friction in their relationship was still getting in the way. He dismissed her as politely as he could, on the verge of a monumental eruption of Vesuvian anger any second.
They had his family.
As fearful as he was for their lives, the most powerful emotion in the world consumed him, drawing him back to a dark place he never wanted to return to. All that hope he had built up over the last few days had come under strain once more, having witnessed the death of a man he had come to respect and love.
And then there was the issue of the gnawers, being discriminated against and brutally hunted down, driving them to insanity and giving them the reason to join the cult. The Regalian people, fed up and disillusioned of a united Underland, had chosen to spit in the face of hard-earned peace. Few days in Gregor's life had been consumed by so much bitter division and vitriolic attacks.
And now, they had his family.
Deus vult?
Sometimes, Gregor wondered whether there really was a man up in the sky, delivering punishment, ensuring justice and delivering judgement. Because if there really was a God, then why was he introducing so much pain and despair into Gregor's life?
What had he done to deserve this?
God must have heard him in his silence, as the skies cried and sobbed even more, raindrops crashing down on this hallowed earth furiously. Thunder inhaled and roared even more menacingly, while lightning split the graphite skies with blinding ferocity.
Eventually, his thoughts settled down as he resumed his journey down the memory lane of the last few hours. Having slashed his room to pieces with his blade and turned Luxa away, he made his way over to the armoury to get his black armour.
Miravet had repaired some of the damage Ripred had inflicted, and had even been able to supply him with a backup mask to replace the one which had been badly dented and scratched by the old rat. The cloak was gone, but that was of little consequence to Gregor. He wasn't going to need the cloak to give the mercenaries a horror show.
And despite all the promises he had made to become a better person when fighting in battle, he wasn't going to let up on the mercenaries. He had even tried to avoid killing some of the extremist rats when possible, but this was different. They had taken it to a personal level by going for his family.
He was going to break them for doing that.
His finger decided to have a will of its own, and it began to trace the edges of his armour, almost like it lusted for the aura which was radiated from the very darkness it emitted. Gregor's gaze settled on his mask, which had its own seat next to him, quietly begging for him to put it on.
It was a fierce temptation he had learned to live with- the temptation of succumbing to his primal, bestial tendencies and to ravage enemies ruthlessly, slaughtering all his adversaries without the slightest flinch or hint of conscience. Despite all the kindness and generosity he valued in the world, there was always a darker side, egging him on to lose control and to accept the monstrosity he was born to be.
The armour represented that monstrosity… It was the face of demonic horror that Gregor deliberately portrayed to frighten his enemies. There was an indescribable desire to become the armour itself, and in his most confused moments Gregor became lost in a blur between two different personas.
Even now, when he thought he had locked away that bitter, violent side of him for life, still he longed for…
More.
Troubled by his thoughts as they became increasingly disjointed and jarring, he closed his eyes, leaning back and tumbling into a completely different reality…
Gregor opened his eyes and found himself bathing in sunlight. A mild breeze drifted by, causing his hair to flutter up with the seeming excitement of a recently metamorphosed butterfly, before gently resting back in its original place. He could see green grass stretching on for miles, a picturesque view of nature's great feat.
This was a masterpiece, a Van Gogh, maybe a Salvador Dali… Those were the only artists he knew, to be completely honest. Those were the two painters Lizzie kept mentioning on those sunny Virginia days, when illustrations seemed to crawl out of the frame and into real life. It was a priceless painting of nature's spectacle, the artist being God in one of his blissful moods.
But like all paintings, it was set in an imaginary world. A world Gregor could never be a part of, because he had been made a skeptic by the postmodern era. A world where social constructs were irrelevant and skepticism was all but absent.
But for now, he could revel in it. Just for a couple of hours, he could be happy.
A dark shadow loomed forward, sheltering him from the inviting rays of the sun. A large body plopped itself down right next to him and joined him in staring blankly at the emerald plains.
"May I join you?" the Bane asked with uncharacteristic politeness, seemingly exercising admirable restraint from his biting sarcasm.
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Gregor sighed.
"Rude," the gargantuan white rat responded indignantly. "I thought you'd be a little more friendly, especially since this is the last time I'll talk to you."
"It is?" Gregor asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I had no control over when you make appearances in my dreams"
"You're a lucid dreamer, you idiot," the Bane replied. "Of course you have control. All it takes is a little belief, and believe me you'll have that in spades once I'm done with our little chat."
"So," Gregor said, "you have advice for me?"
"I do," the Bane answered while picking his teeth with his right claw. "It's quite intuitive, but I wanted to remind you about it before you banish me from your consciousness."
"Which is?" Gregor asked.
The Bane turned his head to look at Gregor, revealing his hideous teeth with an unsettling grin. "The fight is always worth it."
"Huh?" Gregor blurted out. "And you mean… what exactly?"
"This is the reason I keep appearing in your dreams, you moron," the Bane rolled his eyes. "If you had even the semblance of a proper brain, you wouldn't need me to process your thoughts."
The Bane did have a point, even though Gregor would never admit it out loud.
"I mean," the Bane went on, "that no matter what kind of shit you face, you should never stop believing in good. There might come a time when the whole world and every system seems to be designed against you, but that should never be a reason why you stop fighting the good fight. You clear?"
"Yea," Gregor mumbled. "I guess so, but… But why say this now?"
"Because," the Bane replied, less irritatedly this time, "I have a feeling that times of despair are just around the corner. You lost York a couple of hours ago, and now he's been cast to the back of your mind because your family's in trouble. Not many people can endure this without questioning the world around them."
"Yea," Gregor said melancholically, "I can't… I can't do this. It's a never-ending battle we're never going to win."
"Exactly," the Bane said sympathetically. "By right you shouldn't even be fighting for the Underland or Regalia… But you are. You know what- it's like in the stories you read as a kid. The heroes always had a shit time, and it always seemed like the gods above seemed to favour the evil that these heroes fought. And in those moments, those heroes could have given up if they wanted to."
"And why didn't they?" Gregor asked out loud, feeling like the bright green around him had darkened slightly.
"That's a great question," the Bane continued, "why didn't they? Why did they keep on fighting when the all the odds seemed stacked against them? How could they fight when human greed and lust seemed to trump every ounce of morality they held dear? Let me tell you why, Warrior. They did it because if they didn't, then all hope would be lost."
"Why is hope worth fighting for?" Gregor responded.
"Because," the Bane answered, "hope is what we live for. You live in the hope that tomorrow will be a better day, or the hope that you'll see someone you love, or the hope that you'll succeed. Without hope, there is no goodness or love in the world. That's why your heroes kept fighting on, Warrior, no matter how much they suffered. And I think you should do the same."
Gregor's heart swelled with emotion, and a single tear quietly rolled down his cheek. It wasn't a tear of grief or pain or misery… It was a tear because he felt so, so touched by what the Bane had said. For the first time in months, he felt like he had an identity again. He finally felt like he had a purpose in the world and the greater scheme of things.
"Thank you," he said to his archnemesis. "I wish this wouldn't be the last time, but if it is, I just wanna say… I just wanna thank you for everything. You've taught me so much."
The Bane replied with another toothy grin, "It wasn't me, you know. It was all you. You just needed to find yourself after all these years."
The Bane suddenly stiffened and barked, "Sir!"
"What?"
"Sir!" Mr Bennett called out. Gregor's eyes struggled to focus as he opened his heavy eyelids, but his ears were sharp enough to pick up on a voice on the radio saying,
"-name is Michael Harris, a prisoner from the Clinton Correctional Facility who escaped just two days ago and was seen travelling with a young man. Mr Harris also goes by the name Melvin Carter, and was given a life sentence three years ago for multiple charges of first-degree murder, having been guilty of "murder for hire" over the last two decades Mr Harris pleaded guilty during the trial."
"My God," Gregor breathed, but it was still far from over.
"The body was found with two knife wounds, one in the abdomen and one in the heart. The victim also suffered from multiple broken ribs and we just heard a couple of minutes ago that he was probably paralysed when he was killed. Police are saying that the kill was committed by a professional, someone who clearly had a background in military training."
Gregor bowed his head and said nothing. He didn't want to see the emotions on Mr Bennett's face.
"We're now hearing that this could be related to a gunfight heard in Virginia earlier today, when police were seen engaging in a gunfight with assailants near a white farmhouse. Eye witnesses are few, as members of the public were made to leave the area. There is some footage of the incident circulating online right now, but as of this moment there has been no definitive outcome or report of the fight, and the Virginia Police Department has still not released a statement regarding the fight, which is highly unusual considering the scale of this event."
Gregor looked up immediately in alarm. Was his family… already… dead?
"There have been no casualties from that incident, at least up till now, unless we're counting Mr Harris, whose connection to the fight is still dubious as of this moment. His body was found four miles away from the scene of the incident, preventing us from making a confirmation any time soon."
Gregor felt slightly more relieved, but his short, quick breaths did not let up. Every second that crawled by meant that his family was an inch closer to death. But how about…
How about Calvin?
"I let them down," Mr Bennett said to Gregor, shaking his head. It was hard to ignore the falling tears that came out intermittently. "I should have found you faster, I should have…"
"No, you did what you could," Gregor said firmly, trying to reassure both Mr Bennett and, if he was being frank, himself. "Calvin needs you to stay strong and focus now."
"I don't even know if Master Calvin is still alive," Mr Bennett choked out.
The old caretaker's statement took Gregor aback. What if Calvin was already dead?
No, he couldn't believe that. Calvin needed him to stay strong and keep on fighting, and so did his family. It was going to take Calvin's cold corpse to convince him that his old friend was truly dead.
"You heard the report," Gregor grunted back to Mr Bennett. "No other casualties apart from Mr Carter. Calvin's found a way to survive, I know it."
"You know it?" Mr Bennett asked.
"I believe it," Gregor replied, "and so should you. If there's a kid on this earth who can survive a gunfight, it's him."
"He's not immortal," Mr Bennett said hesitantly.
"He doesn't have to be," Gregor replied calmly. "He just has to be smart, and we both know he's smart enough."
Mr Bennett's response was cut short by an unexpected road barrier manned by a few policemen. Their stern frowns matched the moody skies well, reflecting deep-seated concern for the situation at hand. Gregor had no doubt what this roadblock was all about.
"We're gonna have to find another way through," Gregor remarked. "And we can't be spotted, cos' I'm still wearing my armour."
"Hmm," Mr Bennett muttered something unintelligible to himself, "perhaps… perhaps…"
"Mr Bennett," Gregor called out as they neared the roadblock, "you can't let them see me in this armour, or they'll frickin detain me!"
"Understood," Mr Bennett mumbled softly. The man seemed reluctant to change direction, but he eventually steered the vehicle around and turned back.
"How else can we get back?" Gregor asked, undeniably frustrated by the sudden hindrance.
"There's an airfield nearby," Mr Bennett murmured, "maybe that can be of use? I don't know if I can fly one of those, though… Ah, I think I know what to do."
Mr Bennett suddenly swerved the car to the right violently, sending them off the main road. Gregor's stomach lurched as they began to roll downhill, jerking fiercely as the tyres fought their way through the jagged rocks. Mr Bennett, wearing a face of sheer concentration, just gritted his teeth as he steadied the car down the hill.
The car suddenly accelerated forward, invoking a scream from Gregor. "MR BENNETT!" he yelled. "WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Hold on," Mr Bennett said, wiping the river of sweat which had accumulated above his brow. "I've got a plan."
The car roared down the hill, the uneven surface punishing the suspension and tyres. Gregor just closed his eyes and prayed for the best… Anything could happen.
But with an almighty groan and a shrill shriek, the car came to a halt beside a narrow river. Gregor opened his eyes and let loose a huge sigh of relief. This was hardly therapeutic in combatting his fear of heights, but at least he had survived yet another experience of falling, even if it was in a car.
"We're… close," Mr Bennett panted, "We'll be there soon. It's just along this river."
"How… do you know this?" Gregor asked.
"GPS, and the fact that Mr Carter's body was found in the river," Mr Bennett said solemnly. "This river is almost sure to lead us to the farmhouse."
"Good thinking," Gregor said, in both surprise and approval. "But we better move fast, before people start walking down this path. I'm sure a couple of people saw you turn off the main road."
"Good point," Mr Bennett agreed as he revved up the engine. "We have to hurry."
The car crawled down the river bank, moaning away from the damaging experience. But Mr Bennett drove forward with angry determination, clearly not in a mood to take no from the car.
Meanwhile, Gregor's eyes began to wander around, taking in the familiar faded green of the trees around him. The small forest beside him seemed to age since the last time he saw it when driving out of Virginia… It was like it had become as jaded and cynical as he was, no longer proud of the beauty it possessed but ashamed of the secrets that lived in it.
Gregor thought he saw the shadow of a fox resting in the bushes, but another quick glance yielded inconclusive results. The fox would have been small, though, unlike the monstrosities that roamed the Underland.
A fog seemed to hang about the air, adding a shroud of mystery to a place embroiled in mystery. Gripped with fear for his family and emotional on his return to a place he had spent six long years in, he quietly sang, "Take me home… Country roads."
That one line was enough to cause Mr Bennett to glance back at him, but he didn't say anything else. Honestly, singing was the only thing which could lift Gregor's hopes now, when the fate of his world hung in the balance. The emotions felt so raw, so real, that Gregor found tears welling up in his eyes.
But his emotionally powerful return home was suddenly interrupted when Mr Bennett stopped the car. "We're here," he said simply.
Gregor peered out of the window and found himself staring at a familiar white farmhouse, but this time it wasn't from the main road. They were concealed by a number of trees, but any one of Snake's sharpest mercenaries could spot them from a mile away. Gregor was going to have to act, and it was going to have to be fast.
"Stay in the car," he told Mr Bennett. "You've helped me as best you can. If I don't make it out of here alive… Tell Luxa and tell Ripred… Tell them…"
"Tell them you're sorry?" Mr Bennett guessed.
"Yea," Gregor said grimly. "And to Calvin as well, please."
"I will," Mr Bennett said. "Good luck, Gregor. Stay safe."
"Fly you high," Gregor replied bluntly.
He clambered out of the car and strode towards the white farmhouse slowly. He slowly felt the rager sensation flood his body, but this time, instead of exercising mental restraint he had become accustomed to, he let it flow throughout his veins, seizing his muscles and controlling almost everything.
They had messed with his family, and that was unforgivable.
No mercy this time.
Fate had toyed with him and provoked the beast in him, so he was going to unleash it. He was going to become the demon he had always feared he would become.
His sight changed rapidly, focusing on silhouettes near the window. His ears began to pick up noises coming from the ground floor while his grip on his sword tightened. He fit his mask on properly and pulled his dagger out with his left hand.
He spotted a number of police cars on the road which were in flames. Dead police officers were strewn all over the place, making for an ugly sight. These guys were good- they had taken out an entire police force.
But he was better.
He calmly walked through the main door and found himself face-to-face with a mercenary right away. The mercenary seemed to stumble back in surprise, but Gregor wasn't going to give him the time to recover.
He threw his dagger into the mercenary's shoulder and then allowed the rager in him to dictate his movements. He gracefully ducked low and swung his blade hard, nearly cleaving off the man's right leg completely. With a howl of pain, he buckled to his knees, but Gregor wasn't done. He struck the mercenary's forehead with the hilt of his sword, and then used his free hand to break the mercenary's right wrist.
He ignored the screams of pain and yanked out his dagger. He then plunged it into the mercenary's solar plexus, resulting in the man choking out blood and screaming even louder.
Good. Now his friends knew who they were dealing with. Gregor tossed his sword to one side and stood up, towering over the man like a god from hell.
"Please!" the mercenary yelled. "I'll do anything for you! I'll work for you!"
Gregor shook his head and placed his right foot on the mercenary's throat. "No," he said simply.
And then he pressed down with his foot.
This chapter shows a reversal to the dark and angry Gregor that was quite prominent earlier in my trilogy. But don't worry, he won't stay like this forever. His brutality is only fueled by the possible loss of his family, so… Yea. He's pissed.
Hope the writing was good enough for y'all. Favourites and follows are encouraged, but please remember to review too!
Question: Would you like to see a Christmas special this Christmas Eve? Let me know!
