Noise.
Irritating noise. Egregious noise.
Unbearable noise. Unbearable noise.
Louder. And louder. It grew.
He couldn't stand it. He couldn't fucking stand it.
He wanted silence. Silence from it all. It was intolerable. Utterly intolerable.
Please. Pleeeassse. Just some silence, just some FUCKING SILENCE would be it!
Louder, louder, LOUDER, LOUDER!
STOP! FUCKING STOOOOOOOP! LEAVE ME! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A-a-a-a-a-a_AA_A_A_AA-aA_-_A_A-A_!
-"-AAAAAAAAAAAH-! Huh! Huh?! Huh! Huh! Huh... Huh..."
A white-tiled floor. Shadows. His own feet and hands. Pants. That shitty fucking Pony Express uniform.
"Hey there, Jimmy. You awake?"
Whose voice was that, Jimmy thought frantically. Still, the concern in that voice somewhat reassured him instinctively. He lowered his guard, trying to comprehend the state of his reality; why he was alive.
"Y-Yeah," He responded shakily. "I'm awake."
His gaze rose, and-
WHAM!
Jimmy felt the air completely leave his body as a massive fist slammed into his gut, unpleasantly forcing him to full consciousness as he rolled over the tiled floor and slammed against the back of the room. He coughed and heaved, utterly dazed and terrified on awakening.
"GOOD! I'VE BEEN WAITING!"
As he regained his breathe and recovered from the punch, Jimmy felt overwhelming terror at the raw malice and pleasure behind the voice. He tried to look up again, frightened by what his eyes glimpsed.
A seven-foot-tall male, adorned with a black & gold naval uniform glittering with medals, accolades and badges of honor. A half-cape frittered down his right arm, reaching his waist. A decorated sword holster was attached to his left hip, a gun holster attached to his right. A vantablack beret sat aloft his head, contrasting the surrounding bright environment to such a degree that it looked as if a void were resting above him. The behemoth was heavily scarred on every visible part of his skin, each one telling its own story of violence and conflict.
But the most terrifying aspect was his face. Decades of war, combat, strife, survival, death and destruction were wreathed over his features as if it were a living, gruesome painting. Eyes filled with wrathful condemnation and feral pleasure; a wide smile disguising an earnest malice.
Jimmy's instincts kicked into survival mode. He immediately looked around for a nearby weapon to defend himself, when suddenly the behemoth reached behind him and unsheathed a massive combat knife, throwing it to the floor in front of Jimmy.
Clink-clink-clink!
"Take your best shot." The behemoth challenged Jimmy with a wolfish grin. Jimmy was incredibly discouraged by the bold action, but wasn't going to throw away this opportunity. He reached down and snatched the knife from the floor, keeping his eyes on the behemoth the entire time.
If he tried hard enough, even if his opponent was intimidating, he could possibly slice one of his arteries and last long enough for him to bleed out. Still, before he resorted to this random fight for his life...
"Wh-What is happening?" He questioned the behemoth. "I-I thought I died! Why am I alive again? Who the fuck are you, and why are you-"
"Shut up." The behemoth barked at him. "You get no answers until you fight."
Jimmy sweat anxiously, tightening his grip on the knife.
Fuck it! He thought to psyche himself up. Fuck it! Fuck it! FUCK IT! FUCK IT!
The behemoth grinned in savage delight, raising an arm to beckon him further.
"BRING IT."
| | | (Music: "Piscina", by Ugovhb) | | |
With engulfing desperation, he screamed at the top of his lungs and charged the behemoth with all the adrenaline and fury he could muster. In response, the behemoth simply sidestepped the incoming stab attack and clotheslined Jimmy with his arm.
SMACK!
Jimmy was floored onto his back, knocked out of his senses. His watering eyes could barely make out the cackling behemoth, who walked over to the other side of the room and turned to face him.
"Try again."
Hearing the taunt drove Jimmy into a blind rage. In a frenzy, he grabbed ahold of the combat knife until his knuckles turned white, and charged the behemoth, this time waiting until he was in range to start slicing at him with striking attacks before retreating out of range, repeating this process.
His confidence wavered rapidly as he watched the towering captain gracefully tilt, turn, duck and dodge every slice and stab as if he had foresight. Jimmy tried to feint an attack, bringing his arm up to fake an overhead attack before quickly retracting his arm to try an underhanded stab.
"Clever."
Jimmy was shocked as the behemoth's hand moved with lightning-speed to grab his wrist, stopping the stab inches from his chest. He then felt himself lifted off his feet and-
CRACK! SLAM!
WHOOMPF!
Jimmy was helplessly ragdolled around the room by his wrist, slamming and smacking against the floor and surrounding walls, bruising and battering his face, body, and legs unrelentingly, before finally being tossed to the other side of the room in a twitching, pain-filled state.
"You're a clever man, and a fighter at heart. Why did you commit those atrocities? You could have had a promising career in the military." The behemoth's voice echoed through the room. "Instead, you indulged in the worst parts of your humanity, you craven cunt. You consciously did this, knowing it was a mortal sin you committed."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Jimmy screamed, utterly enraged at the clear display of humiliation. "I'm gonna fucking dice you up!"
The behemoth stared at him, his mouth held in a semi-permanent sneer.
"Make good on it, pig."
"Gladly." Jimmy hissed, grabbing a nearby chair and flinging it at the behemoth, who raised his arm to block the incoming projectile. At the same time, Jimmy sprinted up and delivered an overhead slice. He was shocked when the knife connected with cloth, cutting through the Captain's uniform and gashing his arm, slicing through a few layers of flesh. Jimmy felt shivers of terror course through his body when the Captain chuckled lightly, surveying the wound as if it were a momentary novelty.
"Woe is me." The Captain uttered with superior sarcasm. "You need to move in closer when you strike."
He shifted his weight forward, forcing Jimmy off-lean and staggering backward, then headbutted his face to send him crashing to the ground. Jimmy instinctively rolled backward, covering his nose as blood streamed from his nostrils. He growled, training his eyes on the behemoth.
"What's your name?" Jimmy rasped, shakily regaining his footing. The Captain's eyes darted around with unnatural quickness, unsettling the already-shaken narcissist.
"Hawkes." The Captain eventually responded, with a cold and loathsome tone.
"What a fancy name." Jimmy mocked, "I bet you've never taken that silver spoon outta your ass, bitch."
"So you're an idiot, as well as a control freak. What a lovely combination."
Jimmy bit his lip so furiously it bled with equal intensity. He wanted to eviscerate this giant cunt from head to toe. He was going to do it.
Clack-clack-clacacacacaccackkkk.
Jimmy was somewhat surprised as he saw Hawkes throw a baton towards him, clattering on the floor.
"Assumed you would want more than one weapon," Hawkes replied with a trollish smirk. "Since you seem a bit inept."
DEAD. MEAT.
(Music: "CLIQUE CLIQUE BANG", by )
Jimmy gripped the baton in his other hand, standing up and baring his teeth at Hawkes like a cornered animal. His palms, face, and entire body were sweating in instinctive fear and anticipation. Seeing the proclaimed Captain of this vessel so casually hand over both his melee weapons, leaving only his holstered sword, was undoubtedly unnerving; and judging off the way he had just fought, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that his close combat capabilities were overwhelming.
Jimmy needed to find his weaknesses and stab at them, find the exploits and expose them. No matter how strong or quick the opponent, there were always arteries, veins, and essential organs that could end a life if they were stabbed or sliced.
He dashed forward, feinting a full swing at Hawkes' legs. Hawkes' lack of movement unsteadied Jimmy, though he followed through on his plan and pulled back his weapons, swinging them in the opposite direction. Hawkes stepped forward and let his torso and thigh take the brunt of the damage from the handle of the weapons, palming Jimmy's face and shoving him tumbling backward into the wall again.
Jimmy was undeterred, slashing his weapons upward in retaliation, shocked with glee as he noticed the baton beat back Hawkes' approaching fist. His knife slipped past his defense, barely missing the artery in his armpit, which would have been a fatal hit. Jimmy felt a shiver of abject horror run through his spine as he came face to face with Hawkes, only inches away, grinning at him the entire time.
"You want death?" Jimmy hissed at him.
"I hope this hurts."
It was an obvious taunt, but the implications of how Hawkes knew that were far more egregious and nauseating.
It was the note he left on the Tulpar's cockpit. Right on top of the control panel. How... HOW DID THAT EVEN GET RECOVERED?!
Jimmy's narcissism was an unrelenting instigator, outraged by the discovery of that singular note, daunted by the fact it had survived such a crash when Curly had turned out maimed and limbless; what kind of comedic, cruel twist of fate was it, that the single note he'd left had survived the crash yet mutilated Curly...
Such mockery. Jimmy could not stand to see his past, his friend, insulted by this fucking nobody. This was a threat to his existence.
"DIE!" He screamed, launching the baton at Hawkes and sprinting forward to plunge the knife into his gut.
CLANG!
The baton was deflected by Hawkes' arm, followed by an immediate blow to Jimmy's face, sending him flying across the room, knife knocked out of his hands. He did not give up. Reaching for the baton, he charged forward again and jabbed the edge of the baton towards Hawkes, watching him dodge the jab and swung rightwards, managing to smack Hawkes in the ribs. Jimmy was deterred as Hawkes didn't so much as emit an audible grunt, instead wrapping his arm around the baton and jerking backward, pulling Jimmy off-kilter yet again.
CRACK!
Jimmy's face was headbutted by the top of Hawkes' head, sending him careening backwards as he shouted and cursed in pain, instinctively clutching at his nose, which was bleeding like a fountain at this stage.
KILL HIM! Jimmy thought to himself, feeding the ever-growing pit of rage that was swallowing his mind. He snatched the knife from the floor, dual wielding once more, and slowly moved forward, studying Hawkes' movements, waiting for a chance to strike out then dart out of range. Hawkes noticed this shift in behavior and smirked in amusement.
"Progress at last. I'll oblige."
Hawkes then reached for his sword, unsheathing it from the holster and leveling it at a now-frightened Jimmy. The sword was over seven feet long, akin to a greatsword; straight, blackened steel with a gold-etched fuller, a two-hand grip wielded with one massive hand as if it were a rapier. Hawkes noticed Jimmy back up instinctively and sneered derisively.
"I won't kill you, unfortunately." He replied coldly. "I want to see the extent of your grit. So fight me."
Jimmy psyched himself up, trying to overcome the great fear of taking on an armed, experienced opponent. He ran forward, bringing his baton up as if he were going to swing, and instead launching it spinning towards Hawkes' face. Hawkes batted away the flying baton like a fly, catching Jimmy's knife point and parrying it to the side with his sword. Jimmy, who was thrown off-balance, planted his left food backward and delivered a strong kick to Hawkes' midriff, causing Hawkes to stumble backward for a mere second; one that Jimmy took ample opportunity from.
He sliced at Hawkes' arms, leaving several light and moderate lacerations up and down his forearms. Hawkes grinned, waiting until Jimmy sliced at him once more. As the blade came flying upwards at his chin, Hawkes used the flat end of his blade and smacked Jimmy's wrist, knocking the knife out of his hands and clattering to the floor, while Jimmy yelped in pain and clutched at his wrist.
"Careless!" Hawkes chided him wrathfully.
Smack! Smack-smack! SMACK!
Hawkes continued using the flat end of the blade to smack at Jimmy's arms, legs and face, leaving Jimmy shouting and crying out in pain as the blade's flat surface slammed painfully against his skin, leaving red welts and bruises all along his body.
Trying to escape the beating, Jimmy dodged backward, stumbling to the ground and regaining his footing as he scurried to pick up the combat knife and baton from the ground yet again. He turned around, exhausted, in serious pain and mentally traumatized on top of what he was already dealing with. The only thing that fueled his continual retries against this near-unbeatable monster was his overwhelming egoism; the need to feel in control of the situation, no matter where, when, or how.
This was the opposite of that feeling, and he couldn't bear to stand it for a second longer.
His mind simply refused to back down in the face of overwhelming adversity, no matter the obstacle.
"BLEED AND DIE!" Jimmy roared at him, tightly gripping his weapons with renewed determination; even if it were only a few bruises and lacerations, Jimmy had still successfully managed to get some hits on Hawkes. All he needed was one lucky swipe at an artery or one lucky stab at a vital organ, and he would win.
Once more, he charged forth, waiting until Hawkes was in range to swing his weapons. The baton had the longer reach of the two, and so Jimmy used it to try and bat away Hawkes' sword, swatting at his blade as it returned again and again, keeping leveled at his face the entire time. It completely enraged Jimmy that Hawkes wasn't so much as even trying to stab or slice at him, merely keeping the sword leveled and taunting him with the fencer pose.
No matter he swatted at the sword, however, it would continue to reset to its original position, unwavering and tireless. Jimmy thought of what else to do, looking around the room for anything to use against Hawkes. He spotted a bottle of hand sanitizer and rushed for it, uncapping the sanitizer. As Hawkes watched him in amusement, Jimmy turned around and dashed the open bottle's contents in Hawkes' direction, watching with glee as the flammable liquid spilled all over Hawkes. Hawkes looked down, then back up at Jimmy in slight dismay.
"...Okay?"
Jimmy quickly and suddenly realized he had no way to light up the flammable liquid. He smacked himself in the head, cursing his shortsightedness; he had been so wrapped up in executing the last-second plan that he'd completely overlooked the crucial factor that would have even made this possible.
The two of them were left awkwardly staring at each other for a few moments, Hawkes thoroughly un-amused by now being drenched in hand sanitizer. In that moment, Jimmy had a moment of clarity and decided to take advantage of it.
"Why are you attacking me?" Jimmy asked desperately of Hawkes. "Why... How the hell did I come back to life? Or... or... is this some kind of hell? Is this punishment?"
Hawkes eyed him curiously, trying to stifle his immediate desire to break every bone in Jimmy's body.
"So you are aware of what you did. The crimes you sank to." Hawkes accused Jimmy, who fired back defensively.
"SO FUCKIN' WHAT?! Haven't I paid enough? I took responsibility in the end, didn't I?!"
"WHAT RESPONSIBILITY?!" Hawkes screamed at him, losing composure over the sheer cowardice of the human scum in front of him. "YOU KILLED YOUR WHOLE FUCKING CREW, RAPED ONE OF THEM, MAIMED THE CAPTAIN BEYOND RECOGNITION, AND SHOT ANOTHER TO DEATH! WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY, AT ANY POINT IN TIME?"
Jimmy screamed in guttural rage as a response, his mind refusing to reflect on those memories which were no less horrid to him than any of the others. He leveled his knife, rushing forward and swiping wildly. Hawkes sheathed his sword in half a second, losing his cool and charging at Jimmy.
SHICK!
SLAM!
The knife plunged into Hawkes' side, and Jimmy was promptly tackled with the force of a brown bear, his world turned upside down as he slammed into the ground, knocked into a haze once the seven-foot behemoth floored him.
(Music: "All In My Head [Saint Punk Remix]", by grandson)
"I've been thinking of how I should reintroduce you to the world," Hawkes uttered, noxious fumes of pure, unfettered loathing pouring from his maw as he clutched Jimmy's collar; mixed with the great stench of alcohol, which only terrified Jimmy further- the last thing any rational human wanted was to be interrogated by an angry drunk.
"And considering your track record, I thought it should be as violent as it was in your final moments."
Hawkes cocked back his cannon of an arm, readying a punch; Jimmy instinctively covered his face with his arms and cried out.
"DON'T-"
CRACK!
Hawkes' fist smashed into the tiling next to Jimmy's head, sending spindling webs of cracks through the floor and imparting the desired effect of demonstrating his ogreish might upon Jimmy; whose face was already paling stark white from the terror-inducing act. Hawkes leaned in to snarl and hiss at the terrified mess.
"I know what you are. Narcissist, top to bottom, inside and out. Control is your drive, your passion. Do you feel in control here? Knowing I can decapitate you with one hand? Will you admit that you are a piece of shit, who couldn't keep control of even his own life?"
Smack!
Overwhelmed with indignance and feral rage, Jimmy slammed his forehead against Hawkes' face, sending him stumbling backward a few steps. Jimmy wasted no time, clutching at the dropped baton nearby and jabbing at Hawkes' ribs, shocked with overwhelming pleasure as it successfully connected and caused Hawkes to momentarily stagger, clutching at his chest in pain.
YES! YESS!
Jimmy, filled with murderous intent and abject malice, raised the baton over his head, swinging with all his might down onto the back of Hawkes' head.
Whoosh.
Jimmy's face contorted in sheer confusion as Hawkes simply sidestepped the swing, leaving Jimmy to awkwardly stumble forward as the force of the swing left him off-kilter.
"You're so easy to deceive."
"GH-K!"
Hawkes slammed his open hand onto Jimmy's throat, digging his fingers into his esophagus and raising his writhing body up into the air, a look of dreadful contempt written across his face.
"The worst part of this story," He uttered with scorn. "Is that you violated one of your own crewmates. I couldn't care for whatever reasoning you may have, as I'll soon find out from the video footage. That's... fucking... wrong."
Scathingly, he brought Jimmy's reddening face up to his own, staring him down with bating bloodlust.
"I've seen your type at every level of society on Canaris and plenty of other worlds. Galas, slums, palaces, back alleys, political offices, criminal underbellies. Murders, robberies, hit jobs, mass orgies, military coups, betrayals, revenge... everything under the sun and more. I've had to put myself in the shoes of all kinds of people, to solve crimes or find weaknesses, or help someone on a path to redemption."
He tossed Jimmy to the ground like a trash bag, watching in glee as he slammed against the floor and coughed like a cancer patient, groaning in pain when he wasn't gasping for air. Hawkes leaned down for a heart-to-heart as Jimmy struggled to regain consciousness.
"Even if I hate most crimes, I can see from certain points of view, and I actively try to figure out why people do what they do. 'Hate the sin, not the sinner', and shit like that. Some crimes, however, like random killing sprees or manipulating people into killing themselves; selling women and children into sexual slavery, engaging in the forced organ donor market. Those are uniquely evil. And in my opinion, those are instances where I would hate both. Both must be punished horribly."
He stood up, imposing himself over Jimmy's quivering body to make it apparent that he was at Hawkes' total mercy. Hawkes gripped the knife in his side and yanked it out clean, reaching into his back satchel and pulling out an auto-mend patch, slapping it on the wound and gritting his teeth in slight pain as it stitched and cauterized the wound with nanites.
"I've seen the worst. The worst. And there's one crime, one injustice I hate more than most. I want you to understand how much of a piece of shit you are. You consciously, knowingly, used force to violate someone who was traveling in remote deepspace with you for years. You impregnated her without a fucking care. And from what I've reasoned, to avoid consequences when the ship returned to port, you crashed the fucking ship when your Captain trusted you as his 2nd in command. And you pinned the blame on HIM?!"
Jimmy screamed in terror as Hawkes gripped his leg and immediately swung him towards the other side of the room. He cried out in exacerbated suffering as his body struck the wall with force, tumbling onto the floor in a battered mess and coughing up blood. His internal organs were strained by the continual impacts against the walls and floors.
(Music: "FEAR ME", by Lykia)
He couldn't even get a second to cope with the pain, as Hawkes appeared over him near-instantaneously, towering with an irate expression, like a boot about to squash an insect.
"Fuck taking responsibility. You had eight months to do that. All you can get now is a taste of the consequences."
SLAM-SLAM-CRACK-SLAM-CRACK-SMACK-SMASH!
Hawkes wielded Jimmy like a ragdoll, sweeping his body around the interrogation room with little care for his injuries, taking sadistic pleasure in seeing Jimmy's body break, over and over again, across the surfaces he crashed against. Hawkes swung slowly enough that it wouldn't sever Jimmy's leg nor turn him into bloody gore from the force of the swing.
SMASH-CRACK-SLAM-CRACK!
Bones fractured- flesh bruised and swelled up- limbs were strained, dislocated, turned purple and black from the repeated brutality. Jimmy's cries and screams of pain and agony continued, then faded into grunts and guttural moans of terror, and finally a silent, hurting whimper.
Hawkes tossed him to the floor, watching as Jimmy twitched and curled up painfully. The sight of such a horrible display disturbed Hawkes somewhat- it had been months since he last tortured and brutalized someone, and the desensitized mental aspect had deteriorated slightly.
NOT- ENOUGH-
But the RAGE was far more compelling than any sympathy to be had.
Hawkes stormed up to Jimmy's quivering body, plucking an injector from his coat pocket and stabbing it into Jimmy's thigh. Nanobots were injected into his body, moving throughout to fix, repair and suture any wounds they could find. Within minutes, Jimmy's body had been purged of the several cuts, gashes, bruises, fractures and other injuries that had plagued him only minutes ago.
With regained consciousness, Jimmy's eyes refocused on Hawkes, renewed with abject horror and clawing terror in his mind. This was torture.
He attempted to sprint for the door, screaming bloody murder, only to feel the back of his collar pulled backward, causing him to stumble. In a desperate fit to defend himself, Jimmy rotated on his heel, bringing his fist up to deliver a haymaker-
CRACK!
-Only to be met with a fist approaching his chest, slamming into it and sending him careening across the room, once more crashing into the wall and crying out from the impact. He shakily got up to his feet, and the most terrifying sight approached him rapidly- Hawkes, fist raised and head ducked, preparing himself for a fistfight. By this point, Jimmy had lost his stomach for pain, and tried to sprint for the door, only to feel a set of knuckles crack his cheek and send him spinning towards the floor.
He caught himself on one foot, wheeling himself back around to throw another punch- and again feeling another battering ram punch, this time to his stomach, he gagged and heaved in an attempt to puke, gripping his stomach in discomfort and pain.
The punches did not stop.
SMACK! SMACK! CRACK! SMACK!
Blow, after blow, after blow- to the body, the face, the head, the legs and arms; nothing was left unaffected after the barrage of furious punches. By the end of it, Jimmy simply crumpled to the ground, left in nearly the exact same state as before the injector.
(Music: "Arsonist's Lullabye", by Hozier)
Hawkes dusted off his bloodied gloves with satisfaction, peering down with contempt at the utterly devastated near-corpse of Jimmy. Unresponsive yet alive. Barely. Heaving a great sigh, Hawkes took a seat on the floor, a few feet away from Jimmy, and simply peered at him. Thinking.
...
...
...
The longer he thought, the more he reminisced. His past actions, his past behavior, his past morals and value systems. He reminisced on his upbringing, his youth and development, his accolades and downfalls, his best and worst moments.
And the whole time, he had gazed intensely at the broken body of Jimmy, trying to make comparisons where he could. He revisited the most dreadful memories of his past; the ones that he'd locked away in the last 2 months to avoid dealing with the moral implications and suicide-inducing guilt that came with such memories.
Hawkes had given orders to his crew, to blow up a civilian cargo freighter because a terrorist cell had infiltrated it and rigged the ship with explosives, planning to launch it into a nearby orbital citadel. Boarding had been impossible due to electrified airlocks. All 208 civilian workers on the ship were obliterated.
Hawkes had ended the Siege of Korres by baiting the attackers away with their captive families held hostage. When they called his bluff, he had them executed on the spot to outrage the attackers into lifting the siege and chasing him.
During a land war, while cornered during the Battle of Yamilcar, Hawkes directed a civilian refugee contingency that was following them to proceed down a different road to get in contact with humanitarian agents. It was a diversion; they'd been sent straight towards the marching enemy, to cover up for Hawkes and his battalion to retreat towards friendly territory and avoid annihilation. All the refugees were mistaken for undercover soldiers, shot on sight.
As recently as a year ago, Hawkes had ordered some of his crew to sneak into the houses of a dozen reporters, who had threatened to leak video and audio evidence of Hawkes torturing suspected terrorists and mutineers past the point of the law. He had their throats slit in the dead of night and departed for another planet the next morning.
More, and more, and more of those memories resurfaced horribly, painfully. Hundreds, upon hundreds, upon thousands of deaths. All on him. He had given in to moral bankruptcy, and now it was too late to repent. If he could not repent, then at the very least... he could save others from his own fate, if there was any shred of it in them; in even scum like Jimmy.
He gazed down at the broken, shivering, quietly sobbing body of Jimmy, comparing his own past crimes with the sniveling bastard lying at his feet. Was this hypocritical of him? Should he not be tortured and maimed and shamed for his past? What gave him the belief that his actions against others were righteous or deserving? Who was he to determine the objective morality of the universe?
There were no objective moral standards he could point to as justification. It was that simple. He could decide the fate of this cretin however he wanted, and the universe would continue on as it always did.
...
...
...
He couldn't decide his fate right now. What had he brought him back to life for, if not to punish him over time, if not to achieve some end-goal here? Would there be self-reflection by this narcissist shit? It would be quite easy to 'cure' him; i.e. having Doctor Faulkner work tirelessly on brain surgery to eliminate the causes of this narcissism. But that didn't feel right- not in the slightest. Not because he deemed it morally wrong to do so, but because this scum would not be using those mental ailments as an excuse for his behavior.
Hawkes had dealt with narcissists plenty of times, as said before. He had encountered plenty who had not tainted themselves with the unforgivable crime of rape or pedophilia. No matter the illness, free will exists. Choices were made by the individual. And the active, consistent-minded choice to violate one of his own crew, someone as precious and lively as Anya; to betray a captain as kind-hearted and optimistic as Curly-
Stop. Stop. Stop thinking.
If he continued to ponder on this subject, he would find himself rending Jimmy's limbs from his torso in a maddened frenzy.
"CAZ! RAMIREZ!"
The two officers opened the Interrogation room and moved in, somewhat horrified by the sight of a broken and maimed Jimmy splayed across the floor, twitching infrequently from the overwhelming pain his body was wracked with. They looked up at Hawkes, covered in blood and completely unphased.
"Get him to Medical. Get him healed up. Then drag this fucking CUNT! to the brig."
The two of them nodded solemnly, taking Jimmy by his arms and dragging him out of interrogation, leaving a noticeable blood trail from his leaking wounds. Hawkes stomped over to the sink, washing his gloves of the filthy crimson blood that stained them, wiping away the streaks of gore across his face and uniform as best he could.
His gaze eventually found itself at the mirror; back at himself.
The eyes of a mass murderer. A cold-blooded killer. A glorified death maker, widower, and orphan producer. An enlightened despot with a reformed mentality. A king on his own vessel, able to play and toy with the lives of all those on board as he pleased.
He rubbed his face, remembering the deluge of notches he'd marked on his body as his kill count. No matter if they were gone now, the memory was always there.
A devil. He had been a devil. And there was no guarantee he would not be that devil again.
The only thing he could do right now... was keep his demons on a leash.
