Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Regretting that Big Day Out

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    Fear
    Exabyte

    Exabyte

    Posts : 1260
    Join date : 2013-09-04
    Location : The comfort of a grave
    Level : 60

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    Regretting that Big Day Out

    Post by Fear on Wed Nov 05, 2014 4:20 pm

    Time: 04:00
    Date: November 5th, 0005



    Remember, remember, the fifth of November...
    Something, something about gunpowder, treason, and plot.

    That's how the verse went, wasn't it? He couldn't bloody well remember the rest; far too long back in the day, see.

    But whereas he couldn't recall much else and find the motivation to further nourish his attempts, today did evoke a faint memory in that murky bucket of his. Today was Bonfire Night, a day set aside for celebrations and brilliant fireworks displays to paint the twilight sky. Streaks of crimson, dashes of orange, splotches of whites and yellows... All washed-out images at the far, far back of his mind's eye. These were unimportant distractions, however. A muffled noise that he offhandedly swatted aside and thought no more of. Today was Bonfire Night, a day set aside for celebrations and brilliant fireworks displays, but he didn't feel much like... celebrating. In fact, he didn't feel like doing much of anything at all...

    Alone out on the farmstead porch and better left to his own internal demons sat a stiff Judge Fear, the helmeted spirit of the law having seen better early mornings. In his favourite and only chair did his unsightly host sit, the wooden thing comically two sizes too small. It was still his favourite and only chair, nevertheless. His broad hands dangled lifelessly from its armrests and his pencil-thin legs were cramped, but still the ghoul found no reason to get up and skulk around.

    For, you see, this was his thinking chair - and he very much wanted to dabble in a bit of introspection. He really shouldn't, as it usually never ended well, but not even the Dark Judge could stave off existential crises forever.

    It was rather difficult when one was eternal.

    And so Judge Fear thought and he thought and he thought; of glory days past and of what possibly awaited him on the gloomy, uncertain horizon. Of his brothers and his sisters, of his enemies and his... well, he supposed there were a few "friends" in the mix; those whom he could emotionally manipulate and derive worthwhile uses. The ghoul contemplated of all these things and left no nagging thought unturned. This was both his triumph and his downfall, as the mind, see, was as every much faithful as it was traitorous. Do you know who came creeping up from the Stygian depths to haunt him?

    ... wrote:"Right again. Thing is, you gotta keep going. You gotta go the distance, see, cos' there's too many folks'll give up at the first sign of trouble - and then nothing ever gets done."

    ...crrreeeeaaaak!

    Just hearing that voice had Judge Fear slumping in his chair, feeling miserable. Out of all the memories that rose to the challenge, of all the people the ghoul had the fortune and misfortune of meeting, it was Emmet McBarlot. Always was it Emmet McBarlot, the old man a seemingly infinite source of uplifting advice and cheer. Not exactly the Dark Judge's favourite things in all the world, but even he realized that there was a time and place for them. His thoughts helplessly recalled that fateful day where the two contrasting ideals met; in an artificially dolled-up park, no less. Fresh out of the Cubes and aimlessly bumming around, the Dark Judge had eventually given up on his unlife's goals and just wanted to sit.

    There was nothing inherently wrong with sitting. It was a refreshing break from the ever daunting, bustling monotony of his righteous vocation, and he was even doing it right now. Perfectly lawful so long as it was just sitting. And if a sinner was content to sit and nothing else, they would soon waste away and remove themselves from crime.

    How considerate, but this was hardly a considerate existence.

    It was through sitting that he had encountered McBarlot, or Mister McBarlot as the undead fiend had respectfully called him, and the two engaged in a bit of civil, genuine discourse. That was about as rare as a Judge apologizing, or someone smiling after a really depressing day at work. By all means the interaction should have never happened. But, for better or for worse, it did. McBarlot, with his sunny rays and indomitable optomism, and a Dark Judge hellbent (but perhaps not at the time) on eradicating all criminal life. See, that sounded much better than the 'The Annihilation of All Life, Everywhere'; not as pompous or long-winded. Ah, but his mind was digressing. There was something about that old codger that kept hounding him; incessantly poking at the darkest reaches of his subconscious. Gentle and with friendly care, just like McBarlot himself. Didn't make it any less horrible... For a moment Judge Fear struggled as to why this bothered him so. And then, after a handful of seconds of wanting nothing more than to go crawl into a ditch face-down, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

    Pardon him for having the mental urgency of a slow old horse; being an undead had its flaws.

    Kev was like McBarlot. Obnoxiously chipper, always trying to look past one's flaws and encourage their positive qualities, going on and on with those stupid, gullible rose-tinted views of how life isn't so bad and that it just takes a while for things to start looking up...

    Ugh, it was disgusting.

    Life was terrible, cruel! There was nothing good about it; just look at Mega-City One or Portal Breach, for example.

    Day after day of meaningless toil...
    One disaster following another...
    People taking advantage of the chaos for their own selfish desires...
    The cycle of death and misery repeating...

    He couldn't fathom why anyone, any naive soul at all, would want to exist in such a depressing nightmare. After all, wasn't life nothing more than happy pauses and bitter endings? It was insanity! And yet...

    And yet there were people like McBarlot and Kev that simply refused to see logic - defied to see the truth in death. The comforts it brought, the end of one's personal suffering and debts... This was, of course, not entirely correct. The billions of souls left on Deadworld after the purges would have loved nothing more than to vehemently disagree, but it was for their own bloody good! They would have just murdered each other, stolen from each other, assaulted each other, destroyed each other. Such was the nature of humanity; to wage war against its fellow kin, to enforce the divisive split between the haves and the have-nots, to prolong the misery of the many in order to benefit the few. Humanity, it could be argued, was nothing more than a reckless animal that required extreme control to tame it. Except that hadn't worked, had it?

    Deadworld (he couldn't be bothered to remember what it had been called prior) was a world filled to the brim with crime. It was a violent, lawless place and it cared not for the weak, the sick, or the poor. It was a jungle, one of concrete and roaming predators in the guises of neighbours and friends. There was nothing redeeming about it, hence the overwhelming need for a judicial cleanse.

    What was so cheerful about a world that allowed murderers and rapists to walk freely, after they had done a long twenty stretch? Or a celebrity with possession of drugs being given a slap on the wrist, while a minority or working class bloke, for example, was sent to the slammer to serve a full sentence?

    Inconsistencies such as these drove him mad!

    But death wasn't inconsistent. In fact, it was a welcome constant in an illogical, rotten cesspit of a world. That's why he liked it, see. And... to perhaps slaughter those who rubbed him the wrong way with unopposed justification. There was nothing a good purging couldn't fix. To kill, to kill, to kill, and to kill... Positively got him giddy just thinking about it. Money, fame, copious amounts of drugs and girls; none of these things had ever interested him like killing had. Actually, Judge Fear couldn't ever recall a time where they had interested him. Suppose that said a lot about him, then, didn't it?

    Nowhere did it state a friendly nature, though. And that is precisely what boggled him. What had McBarlot and Kev seen that the Dark Judge could not? The former had considered him to be a 'nice young chap'; ironic, given that the ghoul was easily McBarlot's senior. And as for the latter? Eh, the latter was a lost cause... Everyone could see it but the alien. Or, maybe the alien did see it and refused to accept the truth? The truth that his supposed friend was actually an immortal psychopath that delighted in leaving a trail of warm bodies in his wake? That his supposed friend was actually the biggest of hypocrites and didn't care much for the law as he did twisting it, corrupting justice to better serve his own selfish needs? Ooh, that was heading into Judge Death territories. How much of self-awareness was a good thing?

    Judge Fear mentally fanned such upsetting thoughts away and would rather bury them under a rug. Perhaps ten, if he could.

    Alright, so maybe he was a hypocrite - so was everyone else. Even the Devil was a hypocrite! That's what got him bested by Anderson, wasn't it? God was a hypocrite, Lucifer was a hypocrite, humanity, the legal system, Dredd and Anderson, Judge Death and his brothers, him... See, everything!

    His mind journeyed back to two nights ago, where a certain dark-haired woman had to nerve to stand upon her pedestal from up high and judge him. A growl escaped his throat, the Dark Judge feeling his irritation reach a low simmer. The stones of that girl, Montiago... She was just as hypocritical as everyone else, if not more so. Apathy, a grossly misplaced sense of righteousness and inability to comprehend the logic in death; all the makings of a train wreck just waiting to happen. Which it will, Judge Fear could safely wager. Enemies is what she considered them to be, her and the ghoul. He was more inclined to think of her as a nuisance that simply wouldn't give it a rest. Like an ignorant, obnoxious dog waiting to be kicked. Sometimes lessons needed to be learned the hard way, wasn't that right? It was, he reckoned, and Judge Fear did need to work on his punting. Sure, why not? The Dark Judge will humour Montiago and give her exactly what she wanted.

    A challenge.

    That was the first time he chuckled in a while. And it felt good, he supposed. Not many things felt good anymore...

    He sat up straighter within the chair and resumed his inner musings, the ghoul far from finished with this morning's session. Judge Fear needed to think about the future, their plans and their implications, and he also ought to allot more thought to those who were not here. Judges Death and Fire were nowhere to be seen, and Judge Mortis had yet to recover from his rough transition to the Breach... He just needed to think some more, that's all. Just needed to think...

      Current date/time is Thu Jul 27, 2017 12:30 am