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 Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 6:32 pm
Acubens had spent the better part of her free time the last month or so hunting him. She’d tuned in perhaps overly dramatically so into the instincts of her sphere to spur her on, chasing tinges of chaos on the wind. Every now and again she would encounter various officers, some more willing to talk than others, but still none knowing anything about the shadow she chased. It frustrated her to great lengths that she had been poisoned in such a way by one man and yet… he hid from her. From everyone. Be it by personal choice or not, Bischofite remained somehow under the radar of everyone Acubens talked to. Bischofite was a shadow, and whether or not that was genius or tragic was beyond her. (Acubens, rationally, couldn’t deny the genius in exacting that degree of horror and still being able to remain hidden.)
She shook off the thought as soon as it passed through her mind. No. Bischofite was a monster. And the fact that he managed to remain hidden was not only terrifying it was pissing her off. How could someone so blatantly cruel not have left a whisper of a trail? Not so much as a whisp of scent that she could follow. Nothing. No one had even heard of a man going by Bischofite’s description and how? He was… unique… to say the least in appearance. Acubens would go so far as to say he looked like carrion and no one saw any piece or shred of him.
The thought made her run harder, work faster, push further than her body would have liked. It was what pushed her the extra ten feet into the arc of tension that signaled chaos nearby.
A lead.
Just another mile. Another few steps. Just one more interrogation or fight and then she’d go home.
The roof was wickedly steeped and was more than a bit of a feat as Acubens climbed it, mostly due to her overworked limbs, but there was no time to stop for rest. She refused to show weakness despite the wobbling of her knees and the heavy drag of her eyes.
“You there,” she called with no small measure of bravado to the shadow leaning heavy on the cross. “Answer something and I’ll let you go without hurting you.” She didn’t even bother to check the signal that pulled at her sense for rank and she delivered her empty threat.
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 6:55 pm
He lingered atop the steepled roof, legs framing a single cross as it stood proud at the apex of the building. Solid metal, not painted but anodized in a careful, studious manner. Someone cared deeply about this cross and all the idols it represented. All the symbolism. All the warmth and guidance and human compassion radiating from this singular piece of metal, met with ninety-degree angle corners and arms measured perfectly to the millimeter.
Those same arms supported his own easily, as he crossed them loosely around the center vertical bar. Idly he rested his temple against the left side of the bar, watching the ceaseless milling and roiling individuals maintain their infinitesimally useless tasks. He recognized himself as one - however aware he was of the futility of his civilian life, he still undertook each toiling, miserable action and repeated the same dried up, tired routine as a hopeless means to lose himself and blend into normalcy. But lately... Those very distractions only proved to sharpen his sense of self, of being human.
And he hated being human.
His grip tightened on the cross; the metal did not protest. It endured his grip wordlessly, undisturbed by his sudden seething irritation. He recognized that unyielding steadfastness in his early life, when he still adhered to the customs it represented - the deities and morals and righteousness that should've pervaded his life and set him on a path to excellence.
Fat lot of good that did. But in it he learned a great many secrets, and insights into the human mind and all the minutia it seeks to retain some form of completion. For without these small tokens, these religions and redemptions and confessions, humans would decay into entropy as the universe naturally intended. Religion somehow staved off the inevitable, for a period of time. But bound by law, all things return to dust, and any slight bastion within that flow soon proved moot as death loomed on the horizon.
He grew tired of the budding migraines presented by the White Moon Court, yet they never relented in their quest to see his demise. He was a fixation, a rationalization - ending him meant ending a piece of the war, staving off just a little more violence. Certainly he had the propensity for some heinous acts, but to seize upon him as a milestone... He smiled. They held him in much too high regard.
And one day, when one of them triumphs and he lay broken and bloodied, dead and leaking liquefied viscera from his lips... They would realize the futility of their actions.
And by that time he would've assimilated into their systems, developed facsimiles tainted with his ideals and feverish ambitions.
Perhaps in death, he would realize the final stages of his plans.
But he had little time to consider such things now. With the senshi surely near his feathered back, clamoring and scraping her way atop the unconscionably steep roof, assailing him in a tone that belied exhaustion and tired fervor. He smiled. Deep and warm, like magma seeping out a cracked and quaking surface. Slowly he craned his neck back, golden eyes settling on the inverted visage of the girl who sought his death on a rooftop many months ago. In the stagnant heat of summer, the oppressive humidity, the chafing ropes and the monsters lurking under fake skin.
Yes.
"Acubens." He confirmed, voice slightly stressed from the unusual position. His adam's apple threatened to peel the skin away from his throat. "Hello, Acubens. Was suchst du*?"What do you seek?Sweenys_Revenge remember to quote me so i can find these later!
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 7:25 pm
Never before had Acubens’ stomach hit the floor as hard or as fast as it did in that moment. As soon as that voice registered in her mind, her blood rushed from her head, leaving her dizzy and feeling a little sick. Visibly, she wavered on the precarious ridge of the rooftop, casting her arms out to try and catch herself on something though finding nothing but air. He looked like a broken puppet, the way he bent his neck back to look at her. Cruel, toxic waste colored eyes locked on her, poisoning her with their hue alone. With the force of that night, everything she’d been hunting him for slammed back into her like a comet crashing to earth. And just when it was getting to the point where finding Bischofite seemed like a pipe dream instead of the sudden, terrifying reality it had just become. Finally, Acubens gathered herself. She even managed not to vomit, which was another huge plus. But the thing was that this wasn’t a first date she’d messed up on, or a trip up to the front of the class. She’d weakened herself in front of Bischofite. The monster. Something she couldn’t afford to do. And something she’d have to spend a very very long time making up for. She hardened her shoulder, straightened her back, and solidified her stance before she finally found it in herself to speak. “You’re a shadow, you know.” She even managed a weak smile. “No one knows who you are, which I find hard to believe.” Hopefully, attacking his pride would knock him down a little. Or at least distract him long enough for Acubens to get a few good hits in. “It didn’t matter who I asked, they all asked me the same question.” Two or three small, unsteady steps towards Bischofite to own the territory. “Bischofite who?” Another several steps. “And I have to wonder,” finally, she sent out her senses, feeling Bischofite out for weakness, maybe fatigue like her, or another injury. “How could someone as cruel as Cap – ” Correction. NOW Acubens’ heart had never nose dived so totally and quickly in her short history on earth. Captain, no. Not captain anymore… She stopped her advance, her grave miscalculation writ all across her face as she whispered, “ General?”
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 8:14 pm
She breathed that same degenerated drivel. She putrefied his mood with her motives, seeking and searching and scathing for reprieve from her foul conscience and its crucifixions. She stood on threat of death - not by him, but by herself. If she did not hunt for him, he would die. Given her words and her deplorable state, he surmised this was the ultimatum she fed herself. Once everything was broken down, returned to the same viscous fluid that comprised her organs upon rot, she simply downed it all again and repeated the cycle 'til she could no longer discern its composition. And perhaps that was the most comforting piece of the cycle.
Dishwater wine.
"Ze toiling don't often look past zemselfs. Zis is not a reflection on me, nor on zem - for we all work hard in our endeavors. Like zey taught us long ago..." Index finger to cool metal, he traced the shape of the cross. It did not blanch beneath his touch, nor warm to greet him. It showed only indifference - much like those who she crossed in her search. He returned his gaze to the cross before him; no longer did he lean backward so painfully to watch his approaching assailant. Now fixated on the symbol steeped in history, he pressed his head to the cool surface.
Just a touch. A small, intimate gesture. An homage to days long past.
He stood absent flourish. "Domine Iesu," he began, reciting rusted memories while he turned on her. "Dimitte nobis debita nostra, libera no ab igne inferiori, perduc in caelum omnes animas," Chakrams appeared in his hands, liquid steel under pale moonlight. Sharp. Rigid. Far superior to their previous incarnation. "Praesertim eas, quae misericordiae." He smiled.
He no longer held two chakrams. Only a single weapon remained, gripped tightly in his left hand. "Amen."
"Curious sing, religion." He punctuated his statement with a mirthless, quaking laugh - a sound not unlike the rustling of leaves over graves or cockroaches skittering across cracked pavement. "People devote zeir entire lifes to it. Zey kill for it. Die in its name. Raze whole countries in ze name of ze proper religion, ze pure religion, ze one and only holy religion.
"Tell me somesing, Acubens - am I your religion?" He clicked his tongue, waiting for her to speak.
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 9:40 pm
Bischofite approached steadier and slower than Acubens’ own haphazard attempt. Predatory in a way Acubens could never hope to be yet mimicked all the same. It froze her, locked her in place so that all she could do was watch as he closed the distance between them. Every cell in her body cried out for her to run, to leave and abandon this stupid idea that she could ever beat anyone. Go home and never power up again. Just like what she did whenever she ran into something like this. Encounter a problem and run away. Wait, Bischofite was talking. What was he talking about? Something about toiling and reflections. Acubens was too busy trying to keep herself steady under the realization that she had made a horrible mistake. She honestly didn’t know what to expect when she finally faced Bishcofite – maybe for him to be a coward like all bullies were. And it was another mistake, Acubens supposed, to lump him in with something so common. So ordinary. So easy to deal with. Silver caught her eye and she realized she’d missed the first half of whatever incantation Bischofite was murmuring. Her mouth opened to speak but she lost her voice in her shoulder. It pitched behind her suddenly, and she didn’t have the wherewithal to right it. It was warm. So warm. And… it hurt. Bruised at first and then… sharp and spider webbing, paralyzing her whole arm with searing pain. But why… Religion? Was Bischofite Acubens religion? What a strange question to ask. Acubens moved forward, or at least tried to, but as she pulled the muscles in her chest, pain radiated through her body and she made the first real sound in a long while. Just a weak sputter, maybe even a whimper, but it was enough to bring her back to herself. And enough to bring the pain into stark relief. Her uninjured hand flew up to cover the wound only to find that the chakram had never left her body. Her stupid expression twisted and changed to something between pain and horror as she stepped back unsteadily, pulling on the muscles again to cause another radiation zone of pain to rack her body. It caused her to flinch, twisting her body to try and escape it, losing her footing and sending her tumbling from her already precarious perch.
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Posted: Sat Sep 28, 2013 9:42 pm
Bischofite watched her dawning realizations. Strange how it felt like the street lamps produced their own sickly aurora on this night - echoing off buildings, peeling away from street lights, looming over cars in the heated haze from rain hours earlier. It hazed within her eyes, just before it vanished. Just before she knew. She knew. He witnessed a revelation, and she understood her downfall, so she had no choice but to capitulate.
But to descend from the apex of the church, the pinnacle of piety.
Yellowed as it was, polluted, winding and vapor-thin, the aurora melted through the streets of Destiny City. It cursed puddles, tarnished car windows, aged doors. A putrescent light, to be certain. And as Acubens fell, she parted it. The aurora gave under her healthy weight, her ambition, her unhindered fervor, and most crucially - her fear. Those ribbons tore into oblivion while she sailed to the earth as a comet cast from heaven. As an angel to be damned. As another sheep joining the Morning Star.
But Bischofite was not Helel. Bischofite was not Satan. Bischofite was not Lucifer. As a general, a singular entity wrapped in skulls and feathers and gold, he did not bear such a lofty title. He could not compare himself to angels or demons of lore. To Samael or to Beelzebub, to Metatron or to Azazel, to Michael or to Belial. But not everyone aimed for such lofty titles, such glorious gods and derisive demons. Surely Acubens did not, nor did she consider such trifles while she fell from the roof.
So he followed in a grace she had not witnessed in him before - leg now healed, he maintained jumps with practiced ease, and landed with his heels not two inches from her skull. He couldn't feel her virulent, coiled curls beneath his boots - he wondered if he crushed the sulfur bonds out of them with such a feat.
He smiled.
"Acubens," he began again, this time seizing the chakram that still lingered deep in her clavicle. He tore it from the bone unceremoniously, with an unsettling wet crunch. Still, the blood dripped freely from its circular blade. "You haven't answered me. Am I your Vater, your Sohn, your Heiliger Geist*? Am I ze one you pray to at night, ze one you blame for all your misgivings, ze one you cling to for some paltry facsimile of hope? Tell me." He knelt down beside her as he wiped the bloodied chakram across her uniform. "Get up and tell me, or become a martyr. Die for your god."*Father, son, holy spirit.
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Posted: Sat Sep 28, 2013 10:49 pm
As Acubens sailed through the night, body flipping to favor the weight of her head during her fall, she didn’t think. Didn’t really have time to. Didn’t really have the wherewithal to. She’d heard that lives flash before eyes just before people died but… Acubens didn’t have that. She just fell and her mind, for the first time in months, went silent. It was nice, actually, to finally have some quiet. Bischofite got smaller and smaller without really realizing what it meant. Maybe her mind provided some rationale, but whether it was the truth or something more nonsensical was beyond her. She wasn’t even sure if her expression changed to reflect her current circumstances. She wasn’t sure about anything. Like why was Bischofite getting bigger again? Reality slammed into Acubens the same time she ricocheted off of a fire escape, knocking the wind out of her and slowing her fall. Maybe the only things that saved her from death was her sojourn with the scaffolding and the pile of loose bags that cushioned her fall. She lay there for a moment, life returning to her eyes as pain blossomed in her chest and shoulder. Out. She needed to get out. She rolled out of the pile of garbage onto her back, trying not to breathe too hard so she didn’t upset the blade in her shoulder. Oh god the blade in her shoulder what was she going to do about that? For the first time, Acubens looked at her injury and instantly began whimpering. Hesitantly, she raised her hand to gently inspect the thing sticking out of her, regretting it as it sliced open her finger. She regretted her hesitation more as Bischofite landed next to her, his boot on a good portion of her hair. Her screams echoed off the walls around her when Bischofite retrieved his weapon. For nearly thirty her screams poured from her and drowned out Bischofite’s question. “What,” Acubens asked weakly, too tired and in too much pain to fight the wickedly sharp chakram that glided across her stomach. “What are you… asking…?” Her voice grew weaker and weaker as she spoke. In fact she grew weaker and weaker, though still she fought. Acubens pushed at Bischofite’s wrist like a child swatting away a parent’s fussing and moaned, brow furrowing with exertion. Carefully, thought with all the haste she could muster – it wasn’t much – she turned herself over, relying entirely on her uninjured arm to pull herself out from under Bischofite’s shadow. “Please… I’m sorry…” Her voice was nearly a whisper now, broken by sobs just now breaching the surface.
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Posted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 11:14 pm
He watched her, though it was not altogether cold.
His gaze spoke many things - an unsettling calm, a stony stoicism, and an understanding easily misconstrued as compassion. And he watched her with that enigmatic stare for several seconds, measuring the minute distances she claimed in a failed attempt to escape him. He evaluated her progress in learning futility - was she unable to grasp that such meager movements amounted to nothing more than wasted energy? No - she hadn't yet relegated herself to the flow of inevitability.
She fought waves like a drowning man.
He stood and followed her, the tips of his boots brushing against her trailing heels. "Haven't you felt it yet? Everyone has. I haf'. Zere are times when you simply recognize zere's someone out zere greater zan you - and not even zat, sometimes. It is not a reflection on yourself as much as it is on ze one zat can affect you so... wholly. To know zat zere's someone who has such potential to curf'e your actions, to guide you towards decisions as yet unmade, who can alter you entirely.
"I will spell it out for you here, so listen if you can, abof'e ze pain baking your nerf'es.
"I do not know you, child. I'f never met you before zat day. Zere is no way for me to know who you are, how you act, how your beliefs influence you. But I know zat, as you'f confessed, you'f been searching for me. Relentlessly. No one knows who I am, you said. Zat was your admittance zat you'f been searching for me. You asked a lot of people to make zat assertion, you know. Zat much is obvious to me." He smiled, gently. Tapped the sole of her shoe, gently. Speed up, Acubens. Don't stop moving, Acubens. "How much of zat is your normal drif'e? How much of zat is pure fixation? And how much of zat is my influence?
"I can light a trail for you, senshi. I can illuminate my pas' so brightly zat you'll feel it burning your retinas. I could be ze inquisition you need, and you know zis. You know it so you sought me out, searched for my life in ze shadows of lighter minds. And you look for me because I am somesing you need. Like ze inquisition to ze church, ze necessary darkness to proof' light still exists in zis world. To search for me is to base zose minutes, hours, days of your life around me. And for zat time, I am ze one you belief' in - your god - ze one you seek wis' reckless abandon. Ze one solid trus'.
"So I say, benedicite, child." He raised his chakram high, blade cold and sharp in the haze of streetlights, before burying it in the back of the senshi's ribs. A nonlethal blow - though she could bear that scar for life. Every bone indented with his mark, his telltale signature. A symbol of learning. An insignia of belief.
A stigma of strife.
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Posted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 10:24 pm
As if Acubens’ world as a senshi didn’t revolve around her place at the very bottom of everything. The bottom of rank, of ability… the very rock bottom of loyalty. She wasn’t going to lie to herself and try to convince anyone that her sympathies were anything short of traitorous – good though she believed them to be. And as if this knowledge didn’t haunt her both as a soldier and a civilian. As if he didn’t make her nervous whenever she met someone because they just had to know what she was and what she did. Something greater – everyone was greater than Acubens. Even now, she knew she had to look up to gaze at Bischofite’s ankles. He was a monster. But he was an effective monster. A monster with purpose and drive. And she was… On the ground. Bleeding. Crying. Stupid. The tap on her boots quickened her pace, albeit unperceptively to anyone but her. And really, she couldn’t even detect a change in speed. She only registered a new sharpness in the pain of her abused muscles. She registered it in the quickening pulsing of her vision and the increasing click click click of the notch in her shoulder. It may as well have been record speed for all her body protested. This was too much. Too much to think about. Too much to feel. Too much to experience. Sob wrecked Acubens’ throat as she lay across the concrete, half smashed like an insect and too tired to try and get away anymore. Talking about drive and motivation when Acubens was trying to decide if it was easier to let Bischofite kill her or try and get away and nurse her wounds. Nothing drove Acubens in that moment. Not even the pain drove her. She was giving up again. That was it. Just like every time, Acubens was giving up. As Bischofite raised the chakram above his head, Acubens followed his arm’s trajectory. Whether it was a plea for help, a confused repetition, or an admission, Acubens whispered, “oh my god,” only seconds before Bischofite’s blade sunk face and deep into her flesh. Into her bones. Lights all along the street flickered on as Acubens’ screams tore through the night, cracking into shrieking breath and her voice finally gave out.
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Posted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 1:40 pm
No one stirred, nothing changed. The buildings stood silent, the streets stood empty. No one heeded Acubens' screams; there was no need. No hurry.
No point.
Bischofite paced around her prostrate form, where he lingered in front of that blaze of hair. Sometimes it reminded him of Buddingtonite; other times it remained no different than the fields alight in the dead of night. But the iniquitous general kneeled before her, looking down at her, heeding all of her. In time her voice subsided to a hoarse howl, no different than the wind shrieking between tree branches. As she laid, broken and bleeding, she faded into the seams of nature. Soon she would be no different than the street lamps, the cracks in cement sprouting weeds, the rolling cirrus clouds across the sky. Maybe that was a perfect fate.
Lone chakram set aside, he removed a glove from his right hand. And he usurped Acubens' chin, held firmly between thumb and forefinger, as he angled her face more fully towards his. And he watched her, relentless in his examination. Gold eyes mapped every crease, crevasse, crinkle in every fold of her face, every shadow, every minute discoloration in her yellowed honey eyes. Like amber - fossilized, forgotten. Forsaken.
Excommunicated.
"Listen carefully - for you will not hear zis twice," he spoke urgently. His whisper hardly touched the alleys. Wind refrained from disturbing her hair. The world hung in a hazy pre-dawn, still in awe of the fall. Even angels deserved reverence in their descent.
"Revel in your suffering. Welcome it, breaz'e it in, for it is all you need right now. Take it and claim it as your own, because of its overwhelming necessity. Nossing will change you, will strengsen you so wholly as zis. Not your friendships, not your beliefs, not your victories, however small zey may be. Nossing can touch you, for you'f locked yourself away in an ivory tower, but suffering is ze final tool to dismantle its walls. Do not isolate yourself from zis moment, for it is your greatest moment.
"And I haf' given it to you. I haf' bestowed it upon you, because I haf' chosen you as my apostle. My prophet. You will spread my words srough your actions, your relentless hate for zose who sreaten you, and you will whisper it into your loved ones. It will seep from your pores and color your every action. You haf' great deeds ahead of you now, Acubens, for you bear ze word of god."
He closed his eyes. Breathed a sigh. To assume a false mantle was an accomplishment bittersweet in its reception. They were no different, now...
"Suffering is your tool. Your weapon to change ze world. You want to alter ze Negaverse, to destroy zose who oppose you, to safeguard zose you hold dear? Zen listen to me. Look at me. Understand me."
He leaned in close, and spoke nary louder than a breath. He could almost feel the fine, white hairs across her skin reach toward him, to steal away his words in their vast expanse. "Burn everysing you lof'e. Destroy strangers. Forsake your friends. Only in ze height of your suffering will you match me.
"And at zat moment... Du kannst mich zerstören*." He smiled, as evident in his slight respiration, before he stood once more.
The last feathers of his cape brushed against her face, an almost intimate touch, before his visage faded indiscernible. Into the shadows between lamplights.
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Posted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 10:07 pm
No one came to help Acubens. The lights that went on went back off and the people who reacted so minimally pretended that they didn’t hear her. She had screamed until her lungs gave out and no one came to her aide. Acubens was alone. She shut her eyes against the despair that welled in her chest as she realized this. And why would they help? It’s not like Acubens was a random victim this time. She’d purposefully sought Bischofite out with the express purpose of challenging him. This time on even play ground. And maybe that was her first mistake: thinking they would ever be equals. Bischofite would always be two steps a head in everything. In strength, in cunning. In unabashed cruelty. And she was an idiot if she thought that she was any match for him. As the small puddle of red slowly spread from Acubens’ core towards her knees and elbows, she lay still. She might have been dead were it not for the hitched and shallow rise and fall of her back. She might have been dead anyway. She listened to Bischofite’s slow and measured steps as he circled around her and cried out in broken sobs please kill me because that would be so much easier than shame. The only thing that paled her humiliation was the lightning spread of wildfire pain over her body. With epicenters just over her shoulder and all down her back, it radiated out like tidal waves of red heat and electric currents, making her inert flesh twitch to escape it. As Bischofite stood in front of her, broken fingers crept out to brush against the toe of his boot. It was all of her that moved, creating a wordless plea for mercy in the only way Acubens knew would really help. If she knew anything about Bischofite from their two encounters, though, she knew that he wouldn’t just kill her. There was something more. Something else he’d planned between when she’d arrived and this moment. She just hadn’t expected his machination to be so Intimate. Her spine and shoulder protested loudly as Bischofite gripped her chin to redirect her attention. He was close. So close. Closer than anyone had ever been to her, and Acubens was helpless but to watch. Yellow eyes like toxic haze was all she saw and were it not for his warning she would have failed to listen to his instructions. She almost missed them anyway. She was bleeding out, exhausted, terrified, and religion was unchartered territory for her. Despite her protestant parents, she and her brother were fairly agnostic and left religion under the rug they swept it under when they were much younger. It was strange and magical and confused them both and now it was all being thrown back in her broken face. And then he twisted his insult with injury with his sick instructions. As if throwing her off a building wasn’t enough, he was asking her to leave everything she loved and follow him. As though he really meant so much to her. As though she would. And then he left with a caress of his feathered cape. If Acubens worked just a little, she could convince herself that he hadn’t been there in the first place, and that all of this was just a random attack. That she lay broken and bleeding by the haphazard cruelty of the universe and not a madman Acubens had sought out herself. She lay for a moment more before she finally picked herself up on shaking legs. She needed to get out. Power down. She was a bright banner for anyone looking for an easy kill that night. She needed to find help. So she wobbled away, trying to favor her mirrored injuries and failing. Find help. Step one. Sleep. Step two. Steps three through infinity were as of yet up in the air.
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