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Post by Deleted on Nov 20, 2013 7:31:05 GMT -8
"I think it was less of a lie and more of a promise. I was late, I think, and she..."
Dresden almost told her the whole vision right then and there, but something staid his proverbial hand. Maybe it was the midnight blood that didn't so much flow as ooze and writhe from the girl's wound.
"I saw the...a future. One of many. There was a girl. She looked so much like you, but different. And she...she called me..never mind. The future is always in motion."
He stood and shook his head, trying to clear the sounds of the last vision from his head.
"Anyway, we were discussing a planet's future."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 20, 2013 8:11:58 GMT -8
"Correct." Said the Major in a matter-of-fact manner, trilling the "R" far more than was needed. This time the Fallanassi allows him to get up at his own pace, breaking contract in order to sit down and cross one leg over the other. Bloody Edelwiess, caffeine could do wonders right about now, but if the man was willing to talk then it would be crass not to seize the opportunity.
"zYou underestimate Eraidu as ein culture, Shard. It ist not dee 'Funfair Groundt' made up of fantasy ideals. It ist ein Imperial provide, anthropogenic in action unt anthropocentric in outlook. zYou are not changingk human nature overnight or in ein year, unless zyou plan to blow it up. Hundredts of years in oligarchy, autocracy, fascism, unt imperialism ist not erasedt out of dehr collective meme just because zyou say so. vWhy do zyou dink they resist zyour intrusions unt attempts at ein market? Dey can sense zyour not truly human, in dee fvery marrow.
"But do not unger or trouble zyour features, mein pensive benefactor. I hafe a particular talent at manipulatingk mein species. vWe vwill set up ein ruse network. Usingk dehr puppet government, vwe vwill set up incentives dat encourage off planet sellingk of slaves. Dee profit margin vwouldt be so lucrative only ein fool vwouldt holdt on. Meanvwhile, mein most loyal of troops vwould findt charity organzations, freedom groups, unt Republic or, perhaps, Dark Tide Empire traders, fundt dem, unt den pass das xenos dere.
"In layman's terms, I vwill personally see to unt manage ein planetary exodus unt fool dehr nobility under das guise of profiteeringk. Furthermore, vwe vwill use dee ruse as leverage to set zyou, or ein avatar, as dehr headt of ein newly minted chamber of commerce. Over time, zyou can slowly vwean der populace from dere memetic addiction vwhile controllingk dehr livelyhoodt.
"Dee only discomfort our xeno friendts vwill feel ist dehr needt to relocate vwhile under dee protection of mein kampfgruppen. Little discomfort now, unt dey are saved from ein fvery badt place tomorrow. zYou say zyou vwant change? Den let us change dehr fvery vway mankind perceives. . ."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 20, 2013 9:37:55 GMT -8
The former Shard began pacing, contemplating the idea. It was an enticing compromise, for sure. It was a massive concession for her, and would go a long way towards accomplishing both their goals. In short, it was the easy way out.
But he had seen the path the easy way would set them on, and that was a path he was not willing to walk.
"No. I'm sorry, but no. I cannot allow this."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 21, 2013 10:33:27 GMT -8
Incalculable, nonsensical, incomprehensible beyond even the surface of sanity. Graciously, funding was promised to be covered, and those that would have been exploited could have been saved from a place that was about to become Hell. It wasn't enough? Her mind wasn't enough to provide a solution based in compromise? It was here that something broke much like a well aimed hammer strike to the center of a mirror. Double standards were rampant, feigned morals were marching, and it stunk like tepid shit. So it was completely within the bounds of galactic progress to have Subject 67 kill at least a few hundred thousand humans, convert them into mindless ghouls, or parodied schiff and familiars, then have devoted fighters clean the mess, only to have them further decimated by the Eralam's other twisted agents. This was fine; thus necessary.
And yet, her plan was something he "could not allow?"
Well, fuck you.
Lovely how even the gods used morality to justify some actions that they approved of, but would hold down any others that might trample their need for control. It was exactly why the Fallanassi knew right and wrong were delusional constructs made by the insane and guilt ridden. Power. It was all a need for power and his need to lord it over anyone else that would stand in his way. Odd how asinine she was for hoping his recent displays were an earnest attempt at a relationship of compromise and blending -but reality did not have any space for illusion.
This was about control, about taking the only human who lived honestly within her inner self and reconstructing her into a shell of her former glory. So really, it is about death.
Fascinating.
Dresden wasn't really a lover, he was more like a father figure that had always been absent in her life. He had the same hypocrisy like one. To say she suddenly wanted to destroy him would be admittedly petty. This Major wouldn't be so brash when there was simply no way to kill him. . . but she could outlive him. It was terribly depressing, woeful and black, to sincerely want such a relationship with someone where they both bring their strengths together to make something legendary, but the Fallanassi realized now that this Dresden fellow did not truly respect her, but wanted her as part of a collection -like an antique from a bygone universe.
"..."
There was nothing that she needed to say at him, and this whole mental ramble only took as long as the amount of tine the woman used to switch which leg crossed on top of which. Besides this, the Major pulled out a datapad from her inside pocket, tapped a few options, and then laid the device in front of her, returning those slowly blinking eyes at the faux-human.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 21, 2013 11:10:57 GMT -8
Dresden sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away frustration.
"Let me put this in terms you can comprehend, as concepts like morality are foreign to you: had anyone else in the galaxy suggested that plan to me, literally anyone, I would have killed them on the spot. I'm trying to reason with you because, as I've repeatedly demonstrated over and over and over, I do not want to kill you. That you continually force me into corners where it would genuinely be the smartest course of action is infuriating, but maybe it's part if your charm."
The former Shard knew he wouldn't get a second chance at this, so he considered his next words carefully.
"I'm not sure if this means anything to you, but I care. I meant every word I said, and I'll say it again: I love you. I don't even want to consider the possibility of going without you, and the very thought of it is like a dagger twisting in my gut. But this is one line I cannot cross, cannot give an inch. You think me a monster, willing to sacrifice millions on what seems a whim? Fine. I know what I am, and if there is a hell, I'll be on the highest pedestal in the hottest part. But even monsters have their limits, and this is mine. I'm sorry Major, I really am. God, does that even mean anything to you? Or are you just so wrapped up in your own little world of misery that the idea that anyone else could care, would want to be with you, means nothing?"
So maybe the last bit was overdoing it a bit, but he was genuinely getting upset. It didn't matter how much he loved her, if she didn't back off in this, it would be a wedge that could not be overcome and would likely be fatal. He was worried, scared he might lose her so soon after confessing how he felt, and more than a little angry that she would back him into a corner.
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 21, 2013 12:31:54 GMT -8
'Whatever helps you sleep at night, Shard -oh, that's right, you can't actually sleep comfortably, can you?' This she thought with an internal, wolfish grin. What would be the point of not enjoying this twisted existence which lacked any sense. Why not relish the madness, the death, the taking, or the lies? And what exactly is the point of him chanting these tired slogans when those fractured and unweighted values spoke of something entirely different? What, do they make him comfortable with which targets enter his gun sights? Regardless, this meeting had proven beneficial; she had delved just that much further into his perception of reality, and understood it. Sobering up her mind and calculating the limitations of the fallen Whill would behoove their continued partnership: knowing what and when to share her correct precepts and hiding, ignoring, or outright fabricating others would increase their efficiency. It simply had must come to such action. Had he not just clearly stated she was pushing him to a state of murder? Obviously, that meant she should lie about what she felt, or suffer execution.
Seems about just in line with the story of civilization's history, so there was no need to over react to anything or even waste anymore time trying to make him see anything else. In the end, Dresden will see and do as he wishes, condone what he wishes, accept what he wishes, arrest what he wishes, judge what he wishes, and destroy what he wishes. It really was a shame the shadow group had not contacted her before the Iziz incident: they could have worked out something.
But, life offered the strangest of plot twists, and to sharply contest with the things stuffed inside, her outward expressions have not changed since the beginning of his speech.
"zYou care, zyou're goingk to Hell, unt apparently I am too damaged to grasp concepts of sacrifice, devotion, unt morality? Ja, dat's vwunderlich unt fantastisch but. . .
". . . how exactly does dat relate to Eraidu? Because I do not dink zyou vwalkingk Tarkin's shtreets bellowingk, 'I love her; I love her, Hell, damage, etc, etc,' vwill ensure der planet's loyalty. vWhat exactly ist zyour plan?"
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Post by Deleted on Nov 21, 2013 17:01:17 GMT -8
Something very nearly snapped, right then and there. Three steps forward, four steps back, it was their very own bullshit rumba, and Dresden was oh so tired of doing this dance.
He didn't realize the growling sound filling the room was coming from his own throat until he tried to speak and it stopped. What was wrong with him? This woman had been pushing his buttons for the last week, almost, and he had borne the abuse with a sort of amused tolerance that allowed him to endure it with relatively good humor. And then they said those magic words, and suddenly she had a direct line to his temper.
Rumba rumba rumba rumba rumba...
What in the actual fuck, over.
To make matters worse, she was back to trying to feed him yet more bullshit. The Shard was reminded of those few minutes before he had given her the choice to give him a reason to spare her or meet her maker. She had thought to use him for her own ends, to tell him what he wanted to hear and show him what he had wanted to see. He had broken her of that easily enough, but that same tactic wouldn't work again.
And quite suddenly, the whole thing struck him as maddeningly hilarious. Here was the Major, huntress extraordinaire, sniper with the magic bullet, and she was nothing, literally nothing, incapable of causing him any harm that he did not allow, and somehow she had aspirations of being...what? It was like an ant crawling up an elephant's ass with rape on the mind. Grand intentions abound, but it really was a matter of scale.
The ex-Shard knew he'd feel guilty about those thoughts later, but they could stand in line.
First, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, and then the other. Next thing he knew, gales of hysterical laughter were pouring forth, quite against his better judgment.
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 21, 2013 19:18:58 GMT -8
Advance and retreat: the basics of any good war, and here in this meeting room the ideal killing and systemic mandatory arsenic rationing were reaching such cloud busting levels that galactic scales would touch upon war crime statistics. The laughter was nightmarish, more like artillery strikes being walked blast by blast towards center heart, awaiting to boot down such degradation and devastation that disintegration could only dream of miming. Out of a sudden raise in ominous sensation, as though swift and sudden doom was quickly blitzing, the Major attempts to take any kind of mental cover from this unexpected surge, instinctively seeking refuge in a powerful submergence of Force Immersion. In this way, the demigod would no longer be able to detect neither hair or trace of an aura, signature, nor any other spiritual or physical indicator. Nor was there a Riplian sized hole where she was hiding, just more air. Traditionally, such an action, or "negation action" opened the way to illusions, doppelgänger switches, quick escapes, or set up sniping. Today, none of that would prove useful.
However, it was a perfect way to completely seal away her thoughts, feelings, intentions, or even internal duress. To make it even more fitting with Dresden's thoughts, the caster had to mentally deconstruct and identify their complete irrelevance in the grand scheme, middle scheme, or even the tiniest aspect. To dip into current like this was an open admission of worthlessness, ineffectuality, or need of lamentation. It was an open tryst letter with oblivion, humbling, nearly destructive from a personality standpoint. Coincidentally, this move synced as perfectly as humanly possible with the ex-Shard's realization. The Major was, conceptually, nothing, and now she was truly nothing. If it were a wish, it would have been some spot on wish fulfillment.
Besides the switch being flipped her appearance, or rather what appeared to be her appearance, was mostly unmoved. The head tilts slightly toward its side; the eyes blink a few times, their shadowy ocean blue depths now dimming with exhaustion as rampant thought shaped and debated like they usually do in the Fallanassi. Once the laughing man ceases his howling, she speaks.
"Eraidu ist zyours. Do vwhatever zyou vwish, unt do it how ever zyou see fit. I no longer care nor vwill expendt resources on it; furthermore, dere ist nothingk I can do für it. Perhaps zyou can recruit ein mercenary group für dehr operation on Adarlon? Perhaps Koko hast been in contact vwith vone dat vwouldt serve zyour fvision? She vwouldt know.
"Dat ist all I hafe to dischuss. Ist dere anythingk else?"
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Post by Deleted on Nov 21, 2013 23:44:57 GMT -8
If there was a name for the feeling, he wasn't familiar with it. Whatever it was, the very sight of the Major was enough to make him nauseous. Disgust seemed to make some headway, though that seemed primarily self directed. Shame too. He was ashamed to have admitted his feelings to a being that was perfectly happy to return them-so long as she got her way. Disgusted to realize that, however much he might want them to, those feelings just wouldn't go away. He didn't know what else was in there; the feelings were so jumbled up that he really couldn't sort them out. Not now, not in front of her.
All he knew for sure was that spending another minute looking at that smug, self satisfied face was going to break his last stubborn remnants of his self control. That same face that he found so alluring moments before was just begging to be smashed into so much bloody pulp.
Dresden had to get out of there. He turned towards the door, only for the steel bulkhead to slam back into place.
"Koko..." he growled through clenched teeth.
::Yes boss?::
"Open the door. Now."
::Afraid I can't do that.::
The very air seemed to be sucked from the room as the fallen Whill drew every ounce and erg of power he possesses into himself and readied it for use.
"Do you have anyone behind the door?"
A loud clanking sound could be heard from inside the monolithic barrier.
::Them's the bolts, Boss. Solid beskar, the only on the planet. Not even you can bust through that.::
"You have five seconds to clear the corridor of anyone you want to keep."
She didn't respond, but he thought he could hear the sounds of feet sprinting down the hallway. He have them a generous 5 count before gathering all that power into his right arm. He wanted to concentrate it on his fist, but the act of doing so would have obliterated his hand.
It was about a four step gap between him and the door, and he covered that in a single leap, landing a superman punch that any kryptonian would be proud of. The next best thing to ten tons of armored door didn't so much shatter as disintegrate. The hallway was scoured down to the durasteel playing, and even that was scored and pitted down to almost nothing. The only recognizable bits were the fourteen beskar bolts embedded in the far wall some forty meters off.
"Get out of my sight."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 22, 2013 6:33:00 GMT -8
Successful and continual immersion required a certain level of focus and forced detachment from the physical. It was by no means an exhaustive power, especially for a mistress, most likely the last master, of the discipline. However, the ear splitting noise as the door was reduced to atoms and dust raised a terrible din of noise. Enough noise to shock and snap even the most meager handful of concentration.
"Get out of my sight."
Get out of my sight. Yes. Hearing that combination of words in a different language dragged her back to a special time. Sixteen merciless years ago on that old Fatherland, deep in the Hürtgenwald, before its razing and icy slick, it was a mighty forest. Kinsmen and city folk often believed it to be mythical, for the trunks were thick enough to make cartography a dangerous prospect. Hikers lost, troopers sent in after them never to return. The people of Allegemeine were quick to be superstitious, and doubly quick to deny it. Did it matter that within this beautiful yet sinister forest there was a town and chapel of Fallanassi? It would have mattered if an outsider knew of it, since witchcraft, or allegations of witchcraft, was essentially equal to the end of a firing squad. Occultism was only sanctioned if it served the Reich, which is generally a problem with the adepts of the white current.
Within the town the cult led their introverted life, casting doppelgängers or sending envoys to trade for various goods, including vices from time to time. After all, it was a religion with no moral compass -defining what is right equates to what is wanted. Now, there was a girl in this place, who looked very different from everyone else. Specifically, she looked like a native of the planet. Since human nature was magnificent they treated her like an outsider, regardless if these other women, mothers, and girls were allegedly sisters. The tiny girl soon became a big girl, and she slowly realized that she was more introverted than the others, since she was given a combination of curse words as a name. Slowly, the sisters shifted from pranksters to malevolence and contempt before sinking further into the roles of tormentors -eventually, they were the enemy. Further on, they were buried in a mass grave.
Get out of my sight. That's what her mother screamed one fateful day, after shredding the night drinking shot after shot. It was early morning now, and the reek of that horrid licorice mint, Jägermeister, was reeling off her mother's lips, the lips that one day would be bitten off. That was when the woman was overcome with her demons and slapped the thick book out of her daughter's hands. And when the gangly freak frooze, the woman pounded her fists down upon the girl's head and face, screaming, 'Get out of my sight! Fuck off!' Confused, the girl could not fathom picking up the book before escaping was a terrible mistake, because her mother hefted and tossed an even bigger book. It was the kind of accuracy that made the stuff of drunken legends: a leather bound dictionary striking the girl right upon her left eye, shattering the lense that shined over it, popping glass shards over her brow and nose.
Eventually she stopped running when breathing hurt. It was cold outside, and the girl was in sleep wear. After all, it was only 0600 or so. Shivering commences, but that is nicely contested by the hot tear of crimson as the cuts upon her face weep. Some other girls are out as they commit to early morning training, and suddenly the air fills with mirthful insults based around the ridiculousness of pajamas worn outside. What to do? Where to go? This wasn't a nightmare, or a phase in a dream. This was her life, day in and day out. It was her life until one day she had strength.
"..."
Lost in that memory, the Major has collected her things stoically, and has already marched past both Dresden and the blasted door, consciously staying as far away from the fallen Whill as possible.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 22, 2013 7:20:04 GMT -8
She almost made it to the door before Dresden called out after her.
"Wait."
There was no connotation to suggest the single word was a command, or, in fact, to suggest it was anything. His voice was utterly flat, devoid of emotion or even life. Nonetheless, it was not a request, and he was prepared to back it up with force if necessary.
"If you wish to leave, we'll arrange a mind wipe of the last few days. Once that's done, you'll be taken to the destination of your choice. The musket, however, will stay. You can wreak whatever havoc you like, but not with that. You've squandered that particular gift for long enough."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 22, 2013 10:49:59 GMT -8
Ha! He'd have to violate her first before her warhammer changed hands. Besides, she was starting to get the impression that her expressions weren't properly conveying her intentions, and that could be a disaster. Dresden's continuous assumption that she would even consider his option was beginning to cause pain in what served as a heart. The Fallanassi was a great deal of negative things, but she was not fickle.
She doesn't stop, but only speaks louder as the distance between them increases.
"I am not leavingk, Idiot. I am simply gettingk out of zyour face, as zyou saidt."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 22, 2013 16:25:53 GMT -8
Dresden said nothing, not trusting himself to speak. A tiny glimmer of hope poked its head out of the monolithic black mess of emotion that was his heart at the moment, but it was but a speck against an ocean. So she wasn't leaving. Wooh.
The sad truth of the matter was that, for the first time in his life, Dresden was perfectly willing to shirk his responsibilities and just sit there, wallowing in misery. But deep down, the devotion to duty, the need to see the task through to the end, was embedded in his core. It was part of what made him who he was. Dresden, Eralam, whatever you wanted to call him, would be but an empty shell without it.
So he did what he had implored his troops to do for thousands of years: he got up, put his feelings in a little box in the back of his mind, and prepared to get down to business. The technical term was "suck it up and drive on."
The conference room had a powerful computer terminal handy, so he booted it up and began to tackle the mountain of paperwork that had built up over his absence. There were hundreds of matters to attend to, both in relation to the mission and the running of Dressel itself. Work orders for various civil construction projects were analyzed, amended, approved, rejected. Regulations were modified to reflect changes in circumstance. There were a handful of promotions in the planetary defense force that had to be signed off on at the highest level, and there was no level higher than him.
All of these things could have been handled by other people; the former Shard had never been one to micromanage when there were good and competent folks on hand to complete the tasks. But even the most efficient of offices had a backlog, and the ability to lend a hand had always worked well for his planet. He didn't even notice when the lunch hour came and went. By the time he looked up from the console, it was well into the early hours of the evening, and he was famished.
Frayed nerves soothed by the feeling of accomplishment that came with a hard day's work, Dresden placed an order for a meal to be delivered to his quarters, signed off on repairs to the corridor he had wrecked, and prepared to retire for the evening.
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