All's Fair in War [RP 4 of 4]
Jun 5, 2016 14:22:23 GMT -6
The Polar Phantasm, Bonnie Blue, and 1 more like this
Post by Kyle on Jun 5, 2016 14:22:23 GMT -6
ALERT ALERT! There is a possibility that you may be attempting to access sensitive material that requires prior knowledge of previous Guardian works. The work below is the finale of this week’s arc and should not be read until the pieces by Bonnie Blue, Polar Phantasm, and Jay Omega have been read in this the order I have given. Perpetrators caught reading out of order will be violated by my red hand which, if you must be reminded, did not achieve this shiny hue from any paint products. You have been warned.
The forested canopy below whistled in the summer breeze forty feet below the balcony, the longest branches just brushing against the stone holding it up. Nathan von Liebert could hear this happen, smell the season in the air, but he could not see it. He did not want to see it in its beauty. That was the fallacy of man. The enjoyment of summer, life. Both faded the same, like leaves that decayed, clinging to the past glory, trying to avoid the soft dirt that inevitably awaited them. And then they fell and the cycle began anew.
Nathan, though, had broken this cycle and, with it, broken any enjoyment he might have found by the trees below or the castle he had made his home. His senses served their purposes—eyes to see, ears to hear, touch to spread pain—but he did not seek to stroke banal pleasures. Let others exist in that world of emotion. He had rooted himself in a different world where there was only one master.
Power.
He had been promised power and so he waited, legs crossed underneath his weight, eyes closed. Meditation. It was something he could do anywhere in this world which, in turn, meant he was not attached, trapped, by any one place. Let the drunks go to their bars, the whores to their brothels, the sinners to their churches. Let them believe time and space brought them the thing they sought. Clarity. Peace. Strength. All gone when they found themselves outside their comfort zone, outside their safe haven. There was but one entity that brought he would consider his haven, his zone: death.
And death was everywhere, thus he meditated, relished in it everywhere. The way of the world and time beyond.
And soon, time responded as it was oft to do when it needed something. A door opened in front of the seated warrior. Another would call it a rift, a hole in time and reality, but they would only call it that because of fear. Fear of the unknown, of the thing beyond their comprehension. It did not fit into the confines of their menial existence, their comfort zone, so it just had be something destructive, something harmful. Only those who knew better would see it as opportunity, not oppression. And so it was given a simpler label for simplicity sake.
This just so happened to be the opportunity of a lifetime.
Nathan opened his eyes, rose to his feet, and stepped through the door in his quest of power and death which, one could argue, is one and the same.
“How about a thumb war, then,” Nathan said to Jay Omega as the bullets had just turned to slag were absorbed into his skin, his voice carrying so that the other two Guardians could hear him as well. A moment later, the slag exploded out of his thumb back at their original owner hoping to bore a hole in Omega’s head right above his left eye. Jay, his reflexes heightened and his adrenaline pumping, evaded the death below with a split-second duck. When he looked up, Nathan had disappeared.
“Stay focused!” Omega said, trying to steel his voice against the raising dread while he reloaded his pistol with some stronger firepower. “He could be anywhere.”
For a few terse seconds, the trio moved down the hallway with Bonnie running point. So far her stun gun was the only thing that had proven to have an effect on the red-handed foe. Two, three seconds was the window she could provide Polar or Jay to strike Nathan. Omega brought up the rear, his senses sharp, ready for the attack they all knew was coming. And Polar . . . well Polar, to say the least, was flustered. He seemed to radiate composure between his two companions with cryopistols held ready, but his eyes gave away the inner emotion, the Kid inside of him. His past, which had been quite for several years, was back and it was hunting him.
Behind Polar’s right ear a voice whispered, “How’s the wife?”
Polar whipped around both pistols, firing them against the wall and thin air, his outward composure breaking like armor made of sand. Crumbling.
“Don’t let him in your head,” Bonny yelled back to him, plea in her tone without slowing her pace. Behind Phantasm, Omega put a gentle hand between his shoulder blades to keep him moving forward.
Again the voice whispered, “How’s the son?”
Polar drew up short, hands going to his head to try and keep the voices out. Bonnie stopped a moment later, turning back to urge Polar forward. Omega asserted a little more force to get Polar moving forward. The three Guardians. And suddenly Nathan stood among them all, appearing from nowhere.
Bonnie and Omega reacted fast, lifting their guns at their foe, but Nathan was faster. He snapped two fingers on his right hand and time stopped. Bonnie and Omega found themselves frozen in place, but Polar could move. He, though, made no attempt; he only stared at the nightmare opposite him.
“At least answer me this,” Nathan asked softly as he raised the red hand at Phantasm, palm in his face. The pose he stood him evoked the promise of death, there wasn’t a doubt. “How are you, Kid?”
Years of words, fears, and memories flooded Polar Phantasm that lit a fire behind his eyes. Then he lifted both pistols, aiming them at Nathan’s head. “Fuck you,” Polar replied, his voice ice.
A soft, throaty chuckled escaped Nathan’s lips as the foes faced off against one another in the stand-off, pinnacle moment.
And it was interrupted by the will of Bonnie Blue who broke the control NvL had had over time. The Guardians regained their movement and launched the counteroffensive. Bonnie blasted NvL in the back with her stungun in the same moment Omega shoved Phantasm aside out of harm’s way. Blue shoved Nathan from behind, sending him stumbling past the other two Guardians. Then, whipping his gun around, Omega blasted Nathan in the chest with six slugs of 12 Gauge Fragmentation rounds. The sheer force of the blows sent the black-haired man flying backwards into the shadowy recesses of the tunnel.
Polar, who had fallen onto his backside against the wall, looked up to see the white, normal hand of Jay Omega in his face instead. “Sorry ‘bout that, Cam,” he said with both sincerity mixed with haste in his voice. “Just wasn’t sure if you were all there.”
Polar nodded, silent, as he used Omega’s outstretched arm to pull himself to his feet. Collecting his pistols, the trio continued down the hallway in silence save for their quickened breath. Finally, Polar found his voice. “Sorry there, guys. Despite everything I told myself, seeing that face again was not easy.”
“Don’t blame you in the slightest,” Bonnie said with the hint of a smile despite the circumstances. “He did have himself an ugly mug.”
Omega laughed outright while he checked their six and even Polar cracked a grin at the quip. There were no signs of pursuit. They thought themselves safe. They should have known better.
Nathan was waiting for the trio when they arrived at their ship, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. “Enough,” he said, waving his hand in a wide arc in front of him. The weapons the Guardians wielded were ripped from their grasp and tossed aside like toys. A second wave of the hand and chronovores, hundreds of them, oozed out of the walls and the ground and the air around him. They swarmed the trio and like sheepdogs herded and corralled the Guardians into a tight ball. There wasn’t a space to pass through the creatures; to touch them meant certain death.
Nathan walked right through them, joining the circle across from Blue, Omega, and Phantasm.
No one said anything. There wasn’t anything to be said.
And then an explosion. A hole was blown through a wall and a suit of power armor, similar to the ones the other Jay Omegas had been wearing earlier burst through the hole, firing off some heavy artillery across the room. What chronovores weren’t ripped through by bullets scattered, giving the Guardians freedom of movement again. Nathan, after a few shells exploded closed to him wisely opened a door in reality and stepped through, reappearing on the far end of the open room. He called the chronovores to him with a wordless command and, like a black ocean wave, they converged on him, encircling him like a castle wall.
The Guardians launched into escape mode immediately. Omega ran towards the armor which opened up to him like a lustful woman, enveloping him in its protection. He continued the shelling against Liebert’s wall of protection while Blue and Phantasm collected their other weapons and boarded the ship. Omega didn’t stop the barrage until he had stepped onto the ship himself. A moment later, the ship lifted off and away.
The Guardians had escaped.
Polar Phantasm would later swear to his wife, and no one else, that he a hole opened long enough in the black mass for a red hand to wave right before they disappeared.
Sometime later and a world away—though it a story like this, reality was loose to begin with—knowing the exact time of production was unnecessary. Best just to accept that this video came after all of the excitement with The Guardians for sanity sake.
Nathan von Liebert stood alone on the same balcony, hands resting on the stone edge overlooking the open expanse below. As before, though, he did not truly see everything that was there. The sights were, well, they were just there holding him to the present while his mind drifted in the past. Plus it helped to add to the aura, the presence he possessed. So he stood and stared all in the name his driving force.
“Power. Man has often sought after the source of it. In this quest, they have been deceived in believing that power came from certain areas of one life. Location. Heritage. Wealth.”
Nathan gripped the stone railing tighter, white and red knuckles visible to the camera. His whole body was tense.
“The only reason these sources became solutions was because they claimed it first. Imagine that: the wealthy are only perceived wealthy because they said it was so. I speak and therefore I am.” Nathan shakes his head, his disgust obvious despite being turned away from the camera. “Bastards, every one of them who won the luck of the draw and convinced the world it was somehow something more.”
Nathan turns to the camera.
“And you, Kyle Cameron, are the bastard of bastards, the illegitimate child of everything that is wrong with mankind. You took your gifts, gifts beyond your control, and have presented them as hard-earned talent and ability. I’m handsome because I think I am. I deserve to be the center of attention because I believe it. I’m a fighter, a warrior, a champion simply because mommy or the whore sharing your bed or the reflection in the mirror told you that you were. Ignore the fact that you have little actual talent in the ring. Heaven forbid that that play a role in one’s worth inside the ring. You’ll Kyle fucking Cameron, right? What else should matter?”
A short pause as Nathan stared into the camera.
“You rely on belief, Kyle, to maintain your position in this company. You talk a big game, somehow convince the common people you’re worth a shit, and you supplement with it a chance victory in your debut. An inflated attitude that people just want to see rise so they can proceed to watch it fall.
Thing is, Kyle, is I’m not a believer. Not by a long shot. I’d call you a speck under my shoe but it seems the washed out wrestler FPV has already put you under his own. Twice. And what do you do? Certainly not stand up against the big, scary interviewer. No, that would require a backbone. Instead you complained for getting your ass kicked and went to sip the booze like it came from your mama’s teet. Which you were only just weaned from a year ago, most like. Surprised you didn’t ask for a bendy straw.”
Nathan grins. He seemed to be enjoying this.
“To put it Frankly, Kyle, you’re a babe trying to compete with grown men. You saw us on television and thought you come do everything we could. Your parents probably told you that you could be the president and fucking Batman. Bottle fed on false encouragement. And look at you, kid, you didn’t even turn out to be a respectable adult. Just a little shit who took what fools had to say at their empty face value.
A nicer man would tell you to just give up. Give up and go home while you still have the chance. Because right now, all you’ve done is put yourself in the position to piss off the wrong people. Even the ‘good’ ones here around here are quick to lash out against people like you—FPV has already proven that—and me . . . well I’ve laid no claim to being good.
No, take a moment away from your imaginary friends, the only beings you could ever hope to outwit and out talk, and you’d see just the kind of opponent I am. I sent the lone samurai back to Japan breathing through a tube. I left Burn Out wondering if the numbness in his body would ever go away. And you, the child who think he wants to be a part of this business? The self-proclaimed champ.”
Nathan shrugs.
“We’ll, I’ll say bring it on. Try and bring the fight this Sunday. But know this: I won’t say it twice. Because after I’m done, you won’t be seeking a second encounter any time soon. If you’re even in a position to seek anything again. See you soon, Cameron. I'll show you who wields the real power”
It is up to the viewer to wonder which Cameron Nathan was referring to when the scene faded to darkness.
“Power is the most persuasive rhetoric”
~Friedrich Schiller
~Friedrich Schiller
The forested canopy below whistled in the summer breeze forty feet below the balcony, the longest branches just brushing against the stone holding it up. Nathan von Liebert could hear this happen, smell the season in the air, but he could not see it. He did not want to see it in its beauty. That was the fallacy of man. The enjoyment of summer, life. Both faded the same, like leaves that decayed, clinging to the past glory, trying to avoid the soft dirt that inevitably awaited them. And then they fell and the cycle began anew.
Nathan, though, had broken this cycle and, with it, broken any enjoyment he might have found by the trees below or the castle he had made his home. His senses served their purposes—eyes to see, ears to hear, touch to spread pain—but he did not seek to stroke banal pleasures. Let others exist in that world of emotion. He had rooted himself in a different world where there was only one master.
Power.
He had been promised power and so he waited, legs crossed underneath his weight, eyes closed. Meditation. It was something he could do anywhere in this world which, in turn, meant he was not attached, trapped, by any one place. Let the drunks go to their bars, the whores to their brothels, the sinners to their churches. Let them believe time and space brought them the thing they sought. Clarity. Peace. Strength. All gone when they found themselves outside their comfort zone, outside their safe haven. There was but one entity that brought he would consider his haven, his zone: death.
And death was everywhere, thus he meditated, relished in it everywhere. The way of the world and time beyond.
And soon, time responded as it was oft to do when it needed something. A door opened in front of the seated warrior. Another would call it a rift, a hole in time and reality, but they would only call it that because of fear. Fear of the unknown, of the thing beyond their comprehension. It did not fit into the confines of their menial existence, their comfort zone, so it just had be something destructive, something harmful. Only those who knew better would see it as opportunity, not oppression. And so it was given a simpler label for simplicity sake.
This just so happened to be the opportunity of a lifetime.
Nathan opened his eyes, rose to his feet, and stepped through the door in his quest of power and death which, one could argue, is one and the same.
“How about a thumb war, then,” Nathan said to Jay Omega as the bullets had just turned to slag were absorbed into his skin, his voice carrying so that the other two Guardians could hear him as well. A moment later, the slag exploded out of his thumb back at their original owner hoping to bore a hole in Omega’s head right above his left eye. Jay, his reflexes heightened and his adrenaline pumping, evaded the death below with a split-second duck. When he looked up, Nathan had disappeared.
“Stay focused!” Omega said, trying to steel his voice against the raising dread while he reloaded his pistol with some stronger firepower. “He could be anywhere.”
For a few terse seconds, the trio moved down the hallway with Bonnie running point. So far her stun gun was the only thing that had proven to have an effect on the red-handed foe. Two, three seconds was the window she could provide Polar or Jay to strike Nathan. Omega brought up the rear, his senses sharp, ready for the attack they all knew was coming. And Polar . . . well Polar, to say the least, was flustered. He seemed to radiate composure between his two companions with cryopistols held ready, but his eyes gave away the inner emotion, the Kid inside of him. His past, which had been quite for several years, was back and it was hunting him.
Behind Polar’s right ear a voice whispered, “How’s the wife?”
Polar whipped around both pistols, firing them against the wall and thin air, his outward composure breaking like armor made of sand. Crumbling.
“Don’t let him in your head,” Bonny yelled back to him, plea in her tone without slowing her pace. Behind Phantasm, Omega put a gentle hand between his shoulder blades to keep him moving forward.
Again the voice whispered, “How’s the son?”
Polar drew up short, hands going to his head to try and keep the voices out. Bonnie stopped a moment later, turning back to urge Polar forward. Omega asserted a little more force to get Polar moving forward. The three Guardians. And suddenly Nathan stood among them all, appearing from nowhere.
Bonnie and Omega reacted fast, lifting their guns at their foe, but Nathan was faster. He snapped two fingers on his right hand and time stopped. Bonnie and Omega found themselves frozen in place, but Polar could move. He, though, made no attempt; he only stared at the nightmare opposite him.
“At least answer me this,” Nathan asked softly as he raised the red hand at Phantasm, palm in his face. The pose he stood him evoked the promise of death, there wasn’t a doubt. “How are you, Kid?”
Years of words, fears, and memories flooded Polar Phantasm that lit a fire behind his eyes. Then he lifted both pistols, aiming them at Nathan’s head. “Fuck you,” Polar replied, his voice ice.
A soft, throaty chuckled escaped Nathan’s lips as the foes faced off against one another in the stand-off, pinnacle moment.
And it was interrupted by the will of Bonnie Blue who broke the control NvL had had over time. The Guardians regained their movement and launched the counteroffensive. Bonnie blasted NvL in the back with her stungun in the same moment Omega shoved Phantasm aside out of harm’s way. Blue shoved Nathan from behind, sending him stumbling past the other two Guardians. Then, whipping his gun around, Omega blasted Nathan in the chest with six slugs of 12 Gauge Fragmentation rounds. The sheer force of the blows sent the black-haired man flying backwards into the shadowy recesses of the tunnel.
Polar, who had fallen onto his backside against the wall, looked up to see the white, normal hand of Jay Omega in his face instead. “Sorry ‘bout that, Cam,” he said with both sincerity mixed with haste in his voice. “Just wasn’t sure if you were all there.”
Polar nodded, silent, as he used Omega’s outstretched arm to pull himself to his feet. Collecting his pistols, the trio continued down the hallway in silence save for their quickened breath. Finally, Polar found his voice. “Sorry there, guys. Despite everything I told myself, seeing that face again was not easy.”
“Don’t blame you in the slightest,” Bonnie said with the hint of a smile despite the circumstances. “He did have himself an ugly mug.”
Omega laughed outright while he checked their six and even Polar cracked a grin at the quip. There were no signs of pursuit. They thought themselves safe. They should have known better.
Nathan was waiting for the trio when they arrived at their ship, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. “Enough,” he said, waving his hand in a wide arc in front of him. The weapons the Guardians wielded were ripped from their grasp and tossed aside like toys. A second wave of the hand and chronovores, hundreds of them, oozed out of the walls and the ground and the air around him. They swarmed the trio and like sheepdogs herded and corralled the Guardians into a tight ball. There wasn’t a space to pass through the creatures; to touch them meant certain death.
Nathan walked right through them, joining the circle across from Blue, Omega, and Phantasm.
No one said anything. There wasn’t anything to be said.
And then an explosion. A hole was blown through a wall and a suit of power armor, similar to the ones the other Jay Omegas had been wearing earlier burst through the hole, firing off some heavy artillery across the room. What chronovores weren’t ripped through by bullets scattered, giving the Guardians freedom of movement again. Nathan, after a few shells exploded closed to him wisely opened a door in reality and stepped through, reappearing on the far end of the open room. He called the chronovores to him with a wordless command and, like a black ocean wave, they converged on him, encircling him like a castle wall.
The Guardians launched into escape mode immediately. Omega ran towards the armor which opened up to him like a lustful woman, enveloping him in its protection. He continued the shelling against Liebert’s wall of protection while Blue and Phantasm collected their other weapons and boarded the ship. Omega didn’t stop the barrage until he had stepped onto the ship himself. A moment later, the ship lifted off and away.
The Guardians had escaped.
Polar Phantasm would later swear to his wife, and no one else, that he a hole opened long enough in the black mass for a red hand to wave right before they disappeared.
Sometime later and a world away—though it a story like this, reality was loose to begin with—knowing the exact time of production was unnecessary. Best just to accept that this video came after all of the excitement with The Guardians for sanity sake.
Nathan von Liebert stood alone on the same balcony, hands resting on the stone edge overlooking the open expanse below. As before, though, he did not truly see everything that was there. The sights were, well, they were just there holding him to the present while his mind drifted in the past. Plus it helped to add to the aura, the presence he possessed. So he stood and stared all in the name his driving force.
“Power. Man has often sought after the source of it. In this quest, they have been deceived in believing that power came from certain areas of one life. Location. Heritage. Wealth.”
Nathan gripped the stone railing tighter, white and red knuckles visible to the camera. His whole body was tense.
“The only reason these sources became solutions was because they claimed it first. Imagine that: the wealthy are only perceived wealthy because they said it was so. I speak and therefore I am.” Nathan shakes his head, his disgust obvious despite being turned away from the camera. “Bastards, every one of them who won the luck of the draw and convinced the world it was somehow something more.”
Nathan turns to the camera.
“And you, Kyle Cameron, are the bastard of bastards, the illegitimate child of everything that is wrong with mankind. You took your gifts, gifts beyond your control, and have presented them as hard-earned talent and ability. I’m handsome because I think I am. I deserve to be the center of attention because I believe it. I’m a fighter, a warrior, a champion simply because mommy or the whore sharing your bed or the reflection in the mirror told you that you were. Ignore the fact that you have little actual talent in the ring. Heaven forbid that that play a role in one’s worth inside the ring. You’ll Kyle fucking Cameron, right? What else should matter?”
A short pause as Nathan stared into the camera.
“You rely on belief, Kyle, to maintain your position in this company. You talk a big game, somehow convince the common people you’re worth a shit, and you supplement with it a chance victory in your debut. An inflated attitude that people just want to see rise so they can proceed to watch it fall.
Thing is, Kyle, is I’m not a believer. Not by a long shot. I’d call you a speck under my shoe but it seems the washed out wrestler FPV has already put you under his own. Twice. And what do you do? Certainly not stand up against the big, scary interviewer. No, that would require a backbone. Instead you complained for getting your ass kicked and went to sip the booze like it came from your mama’s teet. Which you were only just weaned from a year ago, most like. Surprised you didn’t ask for a bendy straw.”
Nathan grins. He seemed to be enjoying this.
“To put it Frankly, Kyle, you’re a babe trying to compete with grown men. You saw us on television and thought you come do everything we could. Your parents probably told you that you could be the president and fucking Batman. Bottle fed on false encouragement. And look at you, kid, you didn’t even turn out to be a respectable adult. Just a little shit who took what fools had to say at their empty face value.
A nicer man would tell you to just give up. Give up and go home while you still have the chance. Because right now, all you’ve done is put yourself in the position to piss off the wrong people. Even the ‘good’ ones here around here are quick to lash out against people like you—FPV has already proven that—and me . . . well I’ve laid no claim to being good.
No, take a moment away from your imaginary friends, the only beings you could ever hope to outwit and out talk, and you’d see just the kind of opponent I am. I sent the lone samurai back to Japan breathing through a tube. I left Burn Out wondering if the numbness in his body would ever go away. And you, the child who think he wants to be a part of this business? The self-proclaimed champ.”
Nathan shrugs.
“We’ll, I’ll say bring it on. Try and bring the fight this Sunday. But know this: I won’t say it twice. Because after I’m done, you won’t be seeking a second encounter any time soon. If you’re even in a position to seek anything again. See you soon, Cameron. I'll show you who wields the real power”
It is up to the viewer to wonder which Cameron Nathan was referring to when the scene faded to darkness.
