I remember a battle, a great battle in which men and women with familiar faces brought endless pain to one another. The face of Necron. The face of Brian Graves. The face of Wicked D. The face of his beloved Deidre. The face of Richard Gazinya. The face of Triple X. And many, many more faces. Finally, all the faces had faded out, and I found myself behind the arena. I was being led by the most beautiful woman I had ever seen besides Deidre... Deep into the woods.
When Ichabod awakes he is in a small house. He has no idea how he got there, or how long ago the war had happened at Malice. He's been drowning in voices, and a familiar dream has come to him. A terrible dream...
Necron is insane. You're going to die.
The place where he lies is dark and dirty, and full of foul smells. In little dwellings all around, people live in misery, babies crying in hunger, amid the smell of cooking fires and rancid grease.
There is war in this place, true war. Not the debacle of the show last night. Good old fashioned twentieth century war. An endless existence of butchery and menace. Busses burn, people trapped inside beating on the windows; trucks explode; women and children run from machine gun fire.
The woman stands in the doorway wrapped in a black cloak. She peers out into the dark.
Where are we?
My poor warrior. Shall I recite the poetry of the names? Calcutta perhaps. Ethiopia, or Bombay. Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Nicaragua, Ecuador. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you realize what is taking place all around you as we speak. And how much of it. This is a far cry from the oases of your Western civilization.
Why have we come here?
To bear witness to what is changing within the world. Hellacious happenings are afoot, and they must be stopped.
War is always afoot.
Watch and listen.
The street rings out with cries as the women and female children begin to stir. Disgusted and fed up with the war of the men, the women and children begin to slay their male counterparts. The women surround the men and beat them with any weapon they can find.
Dear God! What is happening??
Not God, Ichabod. What is happening here is the work of shadows. They have risen once more, and their lust of violence and mayhem can no longer be held back. Even now they long to destroy civilization in whole, but they may not. So they visit these places with their evil, their little forgotten wartorn countries in which mass death is always apparant. And there they play, unnoticed by God and the world. This will only appease their hunger for so long. Even now they tamper with your cities, and your lives. They invade your dreams. Do you know what I am speaking of?
Necron? But he is but a man.
Do you even now doubt his true nature? Does it not strike you as odd that he enters your mind?
Lady, I've had things in my head you wouldn't believe. Who are you anyway?
Who does not matter. What matters is that I have travelled across the galaxy and through time to find you. But going all that way isn't enough. I must now try to take you the rest of the way on the journey with me, the journey of knowledge.
Ichabod and the woman step out onto the mud filled street. Puddles reflect the explosions happening all around.
Isn't it dangerous to be wandering around a battle ground like this?
I know and you know you aren't really afraid.
Ichabod paused before he walked further. Her name suddenly came to him as he formed his question. The woman turned to see why Ichabod had paused.
M-Mekare... Where are we, and why have you brought me here?
This is the edge of the savage garden you know as your world. This is a place in which hope cannot flower. This is the sewer of the--
The Harvest. So all these... dead at Necron's hands?
More or less. He reaps here because he can. This place matters not in the great scheme of things, and they were all to be dead in weeks anyway. He's merely speeding the inevitable.
But if he holds this power, why has he not yet slain Brian Graves... or myself?
Because you are strong. Look at the ones he has taken... did they matter much?
I don't understand. When you harvest a crop you take the best of the yield and do away with the damaged or sickly plants... he is doing it in reverse.
You are decieved. It is not the time of the big Harvest yet. A farmer's success depends upon the success of his crop. Until the time of his harvest, he prunes the weaker yields away, and allows the healthy ones to grow. It makes the reaping that much sweeter.
So when the weak have been killed, he will come for me? Then why does he fight me?
Because what he knows is that you are not of his crop. You are different. He sees this and knows me must take you out. He refers to you as the crop only to disillusion you. You are more like the insect or rodent which gnaws at his healthy crop. He can fight you, but not destroy you completely. Doing so may damage the crops as well before he can reap them.
Ok, enough of the metaphor, my head is spinning.
Ichabod, are you the best of men? Do you not call yourself evil? Are you not a man of great sin?
If you see it that way, yeah I guess you're right.
Have you not destroyed other men in your conquests?
Ichabod smiles as he remembers his past, all those who had fallen, and even died, to his whims.
You see? You are stealing his crop. Necron is greedy, and he wants you out of his field so that he alone may enjoy the rewards. But that is not all. This is merely why he wants you out of the way. Do you remember his offer?
Yeah, he wanted me to join him at first.
Exactly. You, and some others, are more than the ones spoiling his crop. You may have the power to either unlock his fortune, or ruin him--HIM, not his crop--for good. Your destiny and his destiny both weigh in the balance. He doesn't destroy you because he isn't sure what part you play in the grand scheme yet, but he knows its significant.
What the hell are you talking about?
Remember how you had dreams and warnings before James attacked Darren on his last day on this earth... you were granted these for a reason. Some higher power knew your heart, your mind, and your strength, and now you have been selected as a foe to Necron forever.
WHAT?
I'm sorry, it is not for me to decide.
Then who, the higher powers? Why don't they just stop Necron?
Because every man, including Necron in his former self, is given free will as a gift. It is not a gift that can be denied once it is given. There are only limitations, which have been in place for all time, and may not be changed. To change them is to change the course of the universe.
Ichabod puts his hand on his forehead and presses.
So let me get this straight. I, a man, have been chosen to fight Necron, whatever he is, in this great world shaking battle, and I'm supposed to try and save the world with no help from anyone. That sounds a little unfair.
Mekare smiles. There seems to be a flash of impatience in her face to mix with the ultimate patience in her voice.
Oh, Ichabod. You are not alone. You have never been alone. There are legions of people who would die for you. You are the Revelation. You are the mutiny against these things. And you are not the only one who has been chosen. Another is the possessor of the nightly torments you face.
Brian Graves... But still, we are but men. Necron has dispatched millions with his mind.
Ah, but you do not begin to comprehend. You don't realize the strength you now possess. Neither you nor Brian are powerless against Necron's mind. Nor his strength. You must watch.
Mekare suddenly grabs Ichabod and spins him around, forcing him up against the brick and mud hovel that is closest. Ichabod pushes back against her instinctively, but she is as stone and will not budge. Ichabod is confounded. Mekare's frame is small, her arms delicate and fragile looking. Yet she holds Ichabod with the force of twenty men. Ichabod stares over his shoulder at the beautiful woman.
Fight it Ichabod. Do not let me restrain you.
Ichabod raises an eyebrow. He begins to protest, but a peace descends over him instantly. He turns to face the hovel and places his palms against the cold wall. And he pushes.
Ichabod closes his eyes against the strain, not once feeling a budge from Mekare. But something has to give, and give it does. Ichabod opens his eyes wide as hairline cracks snake out from his fingertips. As the cracks crawl slowly up the wall, the areas around his hands begin to slowly crumble, and the fissures widen. Ichabod stops and pulls his hands away from the wall to stare at them. They have turned red from the blood rushing into them. Mekare releases him.
It is but a small thing, and an inconsequential test of your strength. But you do possess it!
Ichabod stares at Mekare seriously.
But is it enough to fight Necron?
Surrender. Give yourself over to the power completely, but not to let it rule you. Let it become one with you and you may wield it as you have wielded folded chairs, chains, barbed wire, and so many weapons. I will show you things you cannot imagine. You have never known real battle, or a righteous cause until now. But you have come so close. Now you have a purpose to serve, and if you will choose to do so with your free will, you will serve it well.
Ichabod looks away and nods solemnly.
Ok. I've never been afraid of Necron before, and it won't start now. Knowing what you've told me only strengthens my resolve to punish him in ways he's never thought possible. So far he's done everything he can to gain an upperhand on me, from trying to pin crimes on me, to attacking my friends, to having endless numbers of his own friends interfere in my career, to paying off workers at my place of business to give me the shaft.
What is it in my strength that drives you Necron? You keep saying you will destroy me, so destroy me. Wait, I know, you can't right? Or you would if it mattered, right? Then why does it piss you off so much when you are not allowed to beat me? Or maybe its just that no matter how many times you have tried to put me down, I keep coming right back begging for more. Have you never had a mortal man stand up to you like this?
I want it all this time Necron. Unleash your full fury on me, and I will answer to your superiors. I will answer to your gods. I will take full credit for whatever consequences you incur by loosing your wrath upon me. Why? Because, even after what Mekare has told me, I still don't buy half of your bullshit. Twice I've let you feel the Bitch Thump. Twice I've put you into the hell that is a Euphoria. Twice I've met you in the ring and lived to laugh about it, and three times have I met you face to face and given you more than a challenge. So why not make good on your words, if only to silence me, Necron?
Are you, the Grim Harvester, really afraid? You have your free will, and from the crying I heard you doing backstage, not being able to punish me is much more of a hell than what you face if you free your power.
Ichabod holds up his hands as he looks out.
I don't completely doubt that you are powerful, Necron, and I don't doubt you could hurt me. But realize that I can, I have, and I will hurt you as well. Mekare has shown me that something makes me special, something inside me is of another plain. If you also come from or derive power from another realm of existance, then you and I have something in common. We are more alike than anyone gives us credit for, even ourselves. But there is a difference, you see. You answer to so many people, so many designs, so many plans, while I answer to nothing. I choose, of my own free will, to accept this mission simply because I hate you with every fiber of my being. I could care less about the world. But you see, I am whole. I look how you want to look, I move how you want to move, I'm smart, capable, and willing, but most of all, I am free in all the ways which you are not. This, Necron, makes me your better.
Gladiator is a step above these games we've been playing each week back and forth, and I intend to prove that. There is a reckoning, as you like to say, but you are the one who will be dealt with this time, Necron. That, I do believe. And that, you cannot deny.
Ichabod places his hands at his sides as Mekare beckons for him to follow.
My track record for Gladiator is unmatchable, Necron. One year ago I faced another of your kind at the very same venue. Brimstone felt my wrath as I unleashed upon him a fury of anger and ambition. But now, I have grown so much. I have grown in ways even I do not understand. Who are you to stand up and declare a reckoning when the Evil Redneck still holds all the keys to success? Nothing at all really, just another mountain to climb, another obstacle to jump. But now I understand that whatever is going to happen has already begun, and it is useless to try and stop it. No, I will go with it on my own path, I'll move my chess pieces according to my own rules. This may be your game, Necron, but if you know me, I'll cheat to win. I'll cheat and there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop it but curl up with your thumb in your mouth or bitch like a woman about the way things are designed to happen. Get over yourself Necron and start living, if it is in you to live. You are a prisoner and a slave, if not to Brimstone, then to those who are smart enough to step out of the endless vague mass of numbers and make a spot for himself.
And why shouldn't I? Sure, I am evil. You are evil as well, but you only follow. You do nothing major without a permission slip signed by Father Brimstone. Well, I may be evil but at least I am trying to make a name for myself, my independant self. In the great scheme of things, the do gooders are often grouped together, but the evil are classified by their actions. And its better to be hated than forgotten, or to be ignored. No one gives a shit about you until you've broken the rules.
If you are truly important Necron, break your chains and come see me about it. Until then, maybe you'd better reassess exactly what your doing and why you are here, because if you don't satisfy your own needs, what good are you to anyone else? You are useless and dispensible. Any other Necron may come along and take up your work once your usefullness has run out, and where are you then? No where, because you were to afraid to give yourself over to temptation and take what you wanted. The path you are on will be traversed by another, and there will be no more room for you. By then you've started nothing, only continued it, and the next will continue it, and the next. What will your purpose be then? Everyone's eyes will be on him, and it will be too late for you to start your great legacy. You have no legacy at this point, its Brimstones legacy.
So come to Gladiator looking to start something, or looking to be finished. I don't mind making the way for Brimstones next bitch.
Ichabod follows Mekare out of the street where overturned truckes gleam in flame. She leads him to the ocean and takes him into her arms. Ichabod goes limp as if in faint, and the scene fades out.
|
