Tangerine Dream - Sudden Revelation

Vube Desert

Dusk

...

— Heh he he he he...

Puff, puff... Damn. I woke up suddenly after I heard that laugh. Gravity started to pull my wounded arm, in the same way it pulled me when I was over the edge, until I felt from that dune, to be kept lying there. That laugh... It belonged to Prescott, as I could barely see, due to his face being covered by a boot, belonging to that same man who stabbed this arm.

— What's so funny to you to keep laughing like that – that man, thing, I don't know… that somber figure above asked Prescott, who just kept laughing, as if he had no other words to say. But I was too careless to admit such a possibility. In fact, Prescott seemed to share many thoughts, which would later become words, rightfully chosen by his to be uttered, at the right time.

Argh... I wish I could be able to do something, instead of just being a witness of their enduring conflict.

— Funny, isn't it? – He asked, already sentient of what he was about to say, or so I could hear from that confident voice. – Of all the assassins, scums of this world, did the Alexandrians just needed to create you? Now I get it. I got the joke that's you. Hehehehehe…

— What's so funny? You stand before death and laugh at… you, humans, fascinate me. But I'm not surprised at all… it's not my intention to be surprised!

— I know. You don't even have a purpose on your own. You were made by others, ordered by others, stripped away from an identity to another… I don't know who's the psycho here, if you or me. – Prescott said, following a hysterical laugh. I have no words to describe it, I don't know what's going on. – It must be very tough to be an assassin hired to kill, don't you think? Those Alexandrians, the damned Alexandrians… Mostly they despise us, you know. They have many reasons to despise us, as much as we do against them, but to be fair, I am not a single Burmecian, my champ. In fact, I'm a half-child of Cleyra; that's why I had been so peaceful with your demeanor until now, but did you forgot already that I'm also a child of Burmecia...

It was then that I noticed, beyond Prescott's words, that one of his feet, wth my toes, successfully was able to hold on his own dagger, to which Prescott stabbed the foot of that assassin, or so Prescott called that man by such name. He had other names to refer to him as well, or so his concern told me.

After stabbing the foot of that 'man'... it looks like a doll but possessed by an evil spirit, that's my best way of describing it. He shouted 'Black Mage', 'Kill', 'Death' as he fell on the sand. He must be insane, though not as much as Prescott.

My fellow comrade proceeded to jump onto the Black Mage, as both rolled up in the sand, until Prescott had put his own hands around the neck of Zephyr, that wicked bastard who stabbed my arm. Seeing the way Prescott hits him again and again with his very fists makes me want to do the same, but somehow I'm too numb to do anything. If that's good or not, I have no idea.

I once thought Prescott was a calm person, that he would never press with such force the neck of someone, to... suffocate Zephyr? What the hell are you doing!? I didn't expect this. Sure, I would expect Prescott to do something else than stab that man's leg, but suffocating that man to a certain death is something...

— Stop... you... weak... weakling! Weak-ling! – Zephyr pleaded, but those were shallow pleads, and more bottomless threats of his to Prescott, who didn't bothered to stop. Barely, that assassin said a thing, yet I could hear his sentences.

— Oh, so you have lungs or what? Have you developed a sense of pain? Isn't that good? Why would I care to stop, Zephyr? – Prescott said, with a maddening look in the eyes as I came closer. – Okay… Those last moments of yours... Can you see them? it's time to settle the one thing you've been searching all along at once. You exist only to kill, right? But life is more than that. It's more than just living for the sake of dying, a thing you'll never understand. Sure, you were forced to exist in this pitiful body of yours, with these distorted ideals… what about I end your suffering? Not that I want to do a favor to you or anything, it's just that I feel it's the best of options.

— Prescott… enough. – I tried to say something, but I could not. My arm hurts, my clothes are bleeding and Prescott… he's a maniac.

— …This hatred of yours, this anger you feel heating beneath your skin... it's painful, isn't it? Or, is it rather scarier? You should be, like anyone else. Fear is the key. We all feel fear, it's part of our nature, the nature of all beings, plants and animals. This fear is universal, it can't be expressed by words, it can't be understood by a single manner. You... you, off all beings, can feel fear, and you can't admit it, can you? It's not right, isn't it?

— I... don't follow... your orders... you filthy rat… – Zephyr's eyes were losing the vivid yellow tone of before. They turn gray, almost colorless.

— And who do you follow, those who pay you and only them?

— That's enough, Prescott! – I shouted, but no one heard me.

— I...can't feel fear... I-I am... fearless... I... am... the fear… – Suddenly, I feel sorry for Zephyr. It ain't his fault he was made this way.

— Yes, you're right. You ARE the fear. You had been made to be such. But, is that who you truly are? Who has been the one who told you to be such? Was it your creator, the one who gave you the name Zephyr? A reason to kill doesn't exist by yourself. – Prescott… he does not care. He does not listen and he's willing to… dear God. Please, Bahamut, do something…

— ...Nghh… Hnnnng… – I can't believe this. He's being choked until it's demise. Zephyr's breath and screams almost sound human, that's frightening.

— And what do you win when your dirty job is done? A recognition of their part? Does that even matter to you?

— Hnnnng…

— Heh. After all this talk, all you can do is 'grunt'? Had you realized the loss of your own words against mine's? Or have you never talked to anyone? Did the Alexandrian commanders talk to you face to face, or they just ordered you to do a favor for them? They brought you birth, told you a single order planted deep inside your peanut brain and… and… Why can't you be recognized beyond this murder machine? Fact is, your will, this 'resolve' to agree on others is failing with you. In just a single generation, you'll be forgotten, vanished into the void you allowed to be taken in.

For a moment, it felt like Prescott was not talking to Zephyr anymore, but himself.

— …D...d-dirty rODent... wHen I Am DOnE with yOu... yoUr nAme w-will be al-l-l arOunD t-th-the world... to s-s-Ay nOthiNg of your eArs, SnOut, TaiL... and LIVER!...

Those were the last words uttered by Zephyr, before I heard a ''CRACK!'

It was almost like as if he had bones, but he didn't. It did not.

With his own hands, Prescott broke that neck, as much as he broke that Black Mage apart. After he had done such thing, Prescott Highwind finally lifted up, standing on his both feet on same ground he laid for a while, and the same couldn't be said for that assassin, whom the fellow Burmecian looked in despise, and somehow, same despise had overcome the image of himself as well.

— Can't you understand? This world we live in may be a trash heap, or a pile of shit that stinks for those with noses. But now, consider this as your surgery table, and you... you should call me by Surgeon instead.

I look at Prescott and I must admit, I'm scared. He stared at me as if I was one of his kids, and he too feels scared. What happened to us? Our hands, our legs, our body… they turned it into weapons. We have been used as tools. Weapons. Why?... Why us?

— …I am a child of Cleyra. I am a man of Peace. How?... how and why… Why did I do this? – Prescott cried, without hiding the tears falling down his face. Sorrowful tears that were insignificant to the huge, sandy desert landscape we are at. – I made him feel things, Bart. Far beyond his programmation. In the end, he won. Zephyr won. Now, I have to ask… Do I exist… only to kill?

...