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


    Rotten Thoughts

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    Mortis
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    Rotten Thoughts

    Post by Mortis on Sun Jul 26, 2015 6:02 am

    Time: Early Morning
    Date: July 23, 0006

    "Greetingsss, ssinner. What sssinsss have you for usss today?"

    "J-Jesus! Please, I have a wife, children, elderly parents, I'll give you anything to leave us be!"

    "An attempt at bribery? That isss a criminal offence to add to your sssteadily growing lissst of sssin." A rotted, clawed foot stepped through the doorway, and an overwhelming stink of decay rooted itself within the house's foyer. Closer and closer, he drew himself towards the stammering, shivering man. His prey at once tripping himself on the edge of the hall in his attempt to make distance between them, and soon found himself one the floor, scrambling into a panicked scuttle. "However, I do appreciate your forthcoming in admitting your additional... occupance. Enough ssso that I may feel willing to offer you a reward." he hissed, measured, creaking steps easily outpacing the man's panicked efforts. In no time he was towering over him once again, claws curling with eager anticipation. "You sssinnersss do enjoy a reward, yesss?"

    The ghouls's tone sent tremors down the man's spine, his limbs shaking as he kept scrambling in a mess of flailing limbs to keep moving back... Until there was a soft thud. Whipping his head about, he soon found that he had come to the end of his retreating space, back pressed firmly against the pastel wall-paper of the dining room. Wide, terrified eyes glanced back at the intruder, and for a moment it seemed that the Judge's words had managed to push through the stew of raw fear and adrenaline. "A-a reward?" He heavily swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat. "What d-do you mean by a reward?" The man managed to stammer, terror raising his voice to a shrill.

    There was a sound of claws dragging on wood and a chair being dragged across the densely woven carpet. Before he knew it, the towering undead seated himself, albeit awkwardly given his size, right in front of him. "I mean a reward, sssinner. Although what that exactly may entail isss up for you to decide." He graveled, seemingly amused at the man's confusion. Yellowed talons rested on his bony thighs, leaning forward so that his skeletal face took up any and all possible places the man thought to try and sprint off to. "A fair offer, I mussst sssay, and isss not the law fair to all?" Sickeningly sweet, Mortis smiled internally at the man's intrigued expression as his words graced his pallid ears. Disgusted and curious all the same, there was barely a moment of only the man's frantically beating heart thudding softly through his ribs before he finished mulling over the offer.

    "Alright, you s-said I could choose my reward, right?" Another lump was swallowed and the Judge's bleached snout bobbed in a nod but inches away from his own nose. Mortis could nearly hear the cogs turning in the man's mind as he glanced about, first to the stairs leading to the second floor, back to him, and then to the far door that the Judge had entered in, its rotted remains hanging precariously off the frame. "You besst not ssstall me, ssssinner. I am a very busssy Judge, and I am giving you but one generousss opportunity. One that I could eassssily take back." With that threatening snarl, his eyes locked back with the Judge's empty sockets. Upstairs, confused murmurs, likely the children that had been woken by the noise, echoed softly from the top of the staircase, but nary a soul was brave enough to see what was going on for themselves. Mortis' snout slowly turned in the sound's direction, even with the motion, the man of the house still found his gaze met with a single dark socket.

    A set of youthful eyes twinkled in the dark at the top of the stairs, not fully human but not completely beast-like either. They quickly darted back behind the corner upon realizing they had been spotted, a quiet gasp the only sound to be heard. The Judge's claws flexed once again, leathery, rotted flesh crackling and snapping with the motion.

    "I-I..." Mortis' skull snapped back to face the man's own pallid complexion, now glistening with fresh sweat. "I want you to..." He paused, taking a breath and shuddering. "I want you to spare them, my family. I will let you kill me if you spare them in exchange." He knew what lay in store for them, he had been sent down to that weird place with the pods and the cloaked guy with the lantern a few times before. The kids on the other hand... He had heard rumors about how this place treated the ones born here differently, about how they might not return. If he could, he would refuse that risk.

    The hiss of cold air that chilled his face denoted that the Judge was pleased with the decision, a clawed hand gently wrapping around his throat, leaving only a hair's breadth away from touching his skin. The manner could have almost been seen as loving if not for the intent behind it, and instead settled a dreadful image of a predator toying with its prey within the doomed man's mind and stomach. "Very well, sssinner. I ssshall comply to your reward. Your crime isss life, the sssentence isss death." He hissed, and upon that note his fingers closed the rest of the distance. A hoarse gasp would be all that could serve as the man's final cry as his form briefly took on a state of accelerated decay before exploding into code. His lawful duties completed, Mortis rose from the chair to his imposing height, another pleased hiss drifting from his emaciated form.

    "..!"

    Ah, yes, it appeared one of the children had borne witness to the act. His gaze slowly turned to rest on the eavesdropper at the top of the stairs, her horrified expression meeting his skeletal grin. "Do not fear, child. I bring good newsss." He rasped, gangly limbs moving towards the stairs and taking his time ascending them. "Your father hasss requessted I ssspare you and the resst of your family." As he climbed to the top of the staircase, he soon found the blue-eyed girl to be huddled next to the owner of the twinkling ones he had glimpsed at earlier, another girl. Despite his soothing tone, the two still radiated terror, frozen in place before the eternally decaying Dark Judge. There was a creak of withered joints as he came to rest on one knee, staring down at the children from their level. "However, I regret to inform you that he did not ssspecify what he wissshed to ssspare you all from."

    For a few long moments, the house erupted into a chilling chorus of shrieks and screams before falling silent once again with the sun's emergence over the horizon...

    ---

    Creeaak....Creeak....Creeeaak...

    The beginnings of morning sunlight were starting to peek in through the windows by the time Judge Mortis came back down the stairs, rotted souls earning a creaking protest from the old steps as he made his way back to the first level. Finding the chair he had perched himself on earlier, Mortis turned it to face the table before taking a seat. Every house and apartment on this block had been picked through, just as he had done on the one before it and then ones before that. This single home, as unfortunate as it was, was hardly the final stop on the Judge's long, ceaseless patrol of the Outer District. Gangsters, thugs, lowlifes, and poor families alike all had been gathered in his chilling embrace, all had been dutifully and lovingly shepherded unto innocence by his firm claws. Yet, he could not help but continually find himself distracted.

    Enough so that the Judge could not help but tilt his snout up towards the ceiling and ponder.
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    Re: Rotten Thoughts

    Post by Mortis on Mon Jul 27, 2015 4:29 am

    How many centuries had he existed? How many decades had he gone through with nary a single slip of his thoughts? The Judge's mind drifted back a few hours, to the Sanctuary he had deigned to leave, along with his brother. A man of the law left confused in the wake of his own weakness.

    ...Don't you remember?"

    That single phrase... Mortis reached down into his belt, pulling forth a pack of cigarettes. Tapping out a single one, the Dark Judge reached down and retrieved a lighter from another of his numerous belt pouches, recently relieved from a thug's possession a few blocks back. The cheap steel casing flipping open with a flick of his yellowed thumbnail and producing a flame. In an instant the smoke's tip was glowing a fiery red, which gladly ate up a portion of the paper-wrapped carcinogens as the Judge took a drag.

    Oh, he remembered. He remembered enough, as he was fond of saying.

    He remembered their duties, he remembered their cause, their laws and punishments that followed should they be broken. He remembered his leader and the rest of the lieutenants that followed his stead. He remembered things that were best left out of their thoughts, and kept them as such. Buried under memories of purge after purge, screaming faces that withered away to dusty bone with a blink of an eye and a brush of his rotted fingers. Deep past the stifling abyss and entombed under layers upon layers of mental walls. He remembered all that mausoleum contained and further still, although he did not wish to admit the latter.

    For centuries he had meticulously maintained that barrier, filling in any perceived flaw in its containment dutifully and with righteous purpose. He had hidden it away from prying eyes and minds alike, from Fear, Fire, even Death's own superior authority. Yet, upon coming to this dimension...

    A puff of smoke curled from between the Judge's teeth.

    No, none of that made sense, how could this place make him start to seep what had been successfully buried away for hundreds of years? There was nothing here that could weaken his mental facilities, nothing that could dampen his concentration, and above all, nothing that made his fellow lieutenant, Fear, be able to push past all those fail-safes. Yet at the same time, concentration had been the key all along, had it not? Concentration on their goal over what lurked within the recesses of his eternal mind.

    Here, that goal was null and void. No one here could die eternally unless they wished it, and with all their work would be reversed within several days, a work week even. With this in mind, it was predictable, or so he thought, that inevitably his focus would start to slip. What point was there in keeping his truest thoughts unsaid when there was likely no chance of them returning to Deadworld, or even carrying out their leader's vision upon this world, this very dimension. They were trapped with not only everyone else, but themselves. It was only a matter of time before certain thoughts and feelings started to make their way to the surface.

    However, the Judge in him said that was no excuse. There was no excuse to think himself higher than their laws, their regulations. What he thought to do was prohibited, what he thought to express was prohibited. As brothers by bond, they were bound to be just that. Servants of the law, their law, it came first always and nothing would get in the way of that. He knew this as well, and was painfully aware of just how easily things could take a turn for the worst should he confess.

    Another plume of smoke curled from the Judge's skeletal maw and with it a mental block arose. A sturdy wall swiftly built itself between his and Fear's mind, privacy ensured while he delved deeper into the matter. Certainly Fear would not be pleased, and come his return to their fortress he would be faced with the fellow Judge's displeasure. Regardless, it would all be taken in stride for the sake of necessity. He did not need to see this, to know this.

    Quietly the mental fail-safes were carefully lifted, one after the other until the Dark Judge could look upon them himself, and with it arose his thoughts, buried away to never be witnessed by his brethren. Voices, faces, memories, he looked upon them with both adoration and longing. The focus? His brothers, all of them. Both in life and in death he watched their actions play out before him, recorded and secreted away for himself. Fire's brash and temperamental nature, Fear's towering, powerful form that could effortlessly crack a perp's skull, and Death's own brand of charm, if one could even call it that. Although only a select few were really so brutal as to go into the details of their patrols. No, the killing was fine in itself, but it was not the focal point of the Judge's thoughts in this particular area. No, they more focused on their behavior, their actions as themselves. Alongside it was a feeling, one which the Judge regarded hesitantly. A certain desire, love.

    The kind which he knew was not only impossible, but also unlawful. Inter-derpartment relationships werestrictly prohibited, and for good reason. It got in the way of authority, it promoted bias and should something fall out between any two Judges, it would be festering about the department until either one of them dropped dead or moved to another district.

    However, it was not to be mistaken that the Judge held these feelings prior to his change. Before having turned undead, Mortis had seen the other three as coworkers, perhaps even a band of tight-knit brothers, at least within his, Fire and Fear's own year. Death was more of someone they enjoyed having around due to his similar mindset, and later on, someone they stuck around with out of fear of what may befall them should they not become as invincible and eternal as Death had become through the Sister's magic.

    Years after that, when the purges had been completed and they were completely alone to just themselves, did Judge Mortis start to think of them as something more than just brothers. Idle and nothing worth paying attention to at first, but they soon grew into something that the Judge knew better than to keep in sight. Especially around a trio of minds that could easily glean into each others should they wish it. It was easy to maintain at first, a simple blockade put in place to mark its purpose and where it belonged. But, with each passing year, another barrier sounded all too comforting, another layer to ensure that  his thoughts not only stayed in their place, but were safe from being found out by the other three, unless they forcefully dug their way down to find it. Each decade another layer was stacked on top of the first, until it became routine to preen and inspect what had quickly became a near impenetrable mental vault. Strong desires held back by equally strong barricades, and further kept in check with his duties. It was easy to keep them in their place when he had his patrols, when there was a definite goal with a logical way of accomplishing it. Suppression came naturally.

    The people on Deadworld never came back when they died, neither did those in Mega City One. Even in containment  he had striven towards escaping first before he ever even gave that mental black box a glance. The only question he ever gave when occasionally gleaning over these thoughts was whether or not what he felt would be reciprocated.

    Then, there was the portal.

    There was only Fear, and eventually they both came to realize that Death was not one who saw them in his grand scheme. They were his tools. Bully-boys that were the muscle while Death gloated and preened with numerous sinners making a Cult simply for him and his design. They saw him as a god, and the ones who labored under his command?

    Apostles. Followers who served him and his decree. Taken for granted, unappreciated, and only seen for their leader. Death and the Dark Judges. Death and his killing cousins...

    Another tar-laden cloud puffed from the ghoul's snout with a huff. As much as he hated to admit it, he had felt close to their leader in some sense. All the times he had meted out justice at his side, how often they had personally worked together, just him and Death for most of the times they had been free from containment. With how effective Fire's methods were, he could have easily partnered up with Death instead to purge with him and have Mortis go and work with Fear. For a few moments the Judge had began to wonder if Death had perhaps been thinking the same way, and if possible, whether or not he held a chance of being a bit closer. Yes, as much as he hated to admit it, the ghoul had felt something towards their leader.

    All the more reason he did not wish to believe initially that he may not give a single care about his lieutenants. Fear's plight with being sent to limbo had been the initial warning, but it grew all too easy to think otherwise when things were left to be ambiguous. Left to rot in containment while Death gallivanted around in the Cursed earth? No, certainly he was just biding his time until an opportunity presented itself to free them! Death has grown to be egotistical and obsessed over a city that time and time again thwarted their efforts of purging its residents and turning it into a thoroughly lawful place? Ah, well certainly the goal had gotten to his head, he would have never acted like this back before discovering the dimension jumps!  Judge Fear was possibly destroyed? Well, they all knew the occupation came with risks, and Death certainly must have felt some sort of loss over the incident.

    ...Somewhere.

    The amount of naivete and denial was sickening, and with how easily each and every excuse had been tossed back at him, it had grown painfully evident that their leader was not exactly the one he had thought he was seeing while working alongside him. The crimson glow within the cigarettes length gladly ate up more of the paper-bound tobacco, toxic smoke pluming from Mortis' nasal cavity. Another of his brothers soon came to mind...

    Fire.

    He was always a tricky one. Flamboyant as he was temperamental and all too willing to look past a shady exterior to see kinship in a fellow killer. As much as Fear was said to be one they held the most trouble understanding, Mortis would have had to give that title to Fire in how he never really gave off one vibe or the other regarding whether he even liked being around the other three or not. Yes, there was that duty to the other Dark Judges that they all had, the law came first and then them second, albeit a very close second. All the same, for all his fiery personality, Mortis held little to no idea as to what to think about him. Other than admiring his abilities and dutiful nature, of course.

    And Fear... The ghoul had learned more about the ghoul in this dimension than anywhere else they had traveled as a group. He learned his preferences,  his methods of carrying out his duties and even finding out he held something of a scheming side to him as well. Even before being given the opportunity to spend an eternity with him alone upon this dimension, Mortis could not help but find a certain fondness towards him as well. He appreciated his presence and what he offered to their group, and at the time it had been revealed about his orientation, he hardly batted an eye, not that he would have even if had any eyes to blink with. However, now that they had been left together with each other for so long, it was natural they would grow a little closer, right? A feeling of dependence upon one another further appreciation for what lay beyond the surface. The Judge even was not all that squeamish about helping him answer a personal question, dare he say the man likely even enjoyed the performance he put on while doing so.

    Yet, the memories fresh in his mind kept returning...


    "You are acting funny, and it isss not the firssst time, either."
    "Oh? And I sssuppossse thisss intervention isss for an explanation."
    "Well, yesss. Sssince when have we kept sssecretsss from one another?"

    Since when had he kept secrets?

    Another deep drag, and the last of the ghoul's cigarette was spent, ash falling to the floor and the butt dropped unceremoniously upon the table. A sigh, low and long, whistled from his ribs as he looked towards the open door.

    "Sssince a long time ago..." He hissed to himself, fishing out another smoke from the pack and lighting it.
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    Re: Rotten Thoughts

    Post by Mortis on Tue Jul 28, 2015 12:50 am

    None of this was an excuse for his actions, he knew.

    It did not excuse his sudden interest in attempting to find his preferences, his orientation.

    It did not excuse dragging Fear into it all, asking for his help with attempting to find the answer.

    It did not excuse leaving him in the dark each time he slipped up.

    Yet, the Dark Judge could not help but trace his memories back further. All the way back toa few nights ago in the Sanctuary, when the question had been initially proposed. What was he? Part of him knew of course exactly what he was, but another... It wished to remain ignorant, to deny all that had been kept under lock and key in order to pretend he held a blank slate. If only to keep what he had walled off to stay that way. Maybe if he looked around instead and sought a new face to admire, to long for, perhaps all that he had worked so hard to suppress would finally fade off into obscurity.

    He would no longer need to maintain that boundary. He would no longer need to remind himself of his place in the grand scheme of their laws. As he started down his path however, it all too quickly started to alarm him as to how easily everything bubbled back to the surface. Fear's illusions, as talented as he was with them, swiftly turned into that which he had tried to move away from. A grinning visage filled his thoughts and the Dark Judge failed to keep a shudder from tracing its way up his spine.

    "Hello, Mortiss~! Have you been a good Lieutenant, while I wassss off farting about in the Cursssed Earth and leaving you to sssit in containment?"

    Should he have been younger, perhaps back during their days of attempting to purge Mega City One, perhaps Mortis would have seen the impression Fear made in a better light. His statements and gestures aside, for his leader's visage to be so close, nigh intimate... It was all that he could do to sit still and voice his displeasure at the situation. Certainly, he knew it was a trick, an illusion set to push his buttons, but all the same the face he put on was of a man he had at one point loved and would have done anything to help him see his ambitious vision. To see him so close, to feel his weight as he sat on his lap and leaned close to him as if to kiss him, to know that he truly held not a care for them and would have not felt a thing should they have been destroyed or imprisoned forever, so long as his plans were carried through, his vision brought into reality...

    While it had not struck him as such at the time, he could not help but feel a pang of something painful. As if he had been witness to a doppelganger of what he had thought he had seen all those decades ago. Another plume of tar-laden smoke curled from his skeletal maw, and with it he pushed it aside as best he could.

    It had all been a joke after all. Fear could not have known anything that he kept hidden in the deepest depths of his mind, right?

    "Let'sss sssee if I've ssstill got it..."
    ....
    "Jussst the right amount of fat and mussscle, yesss. Nothing too cut, nothing too sssoft. It'sss peeeerfect."
    "Jussst right. Yesss, I like thisss one."
    "Of courssse it isss. Don't you remember?"
    "...Hm. The one from a few nights before?"
    "Of courssse, I think I wasss a little bigger... sssomewhere... Though it'sss been ssso long."
    "You were..?"
    "Yesss, me. I liked weight training. And then I turned nasssssty, and all for Ssssidney, eh!"

    If he did know, Fear certainly had a cheeky way of showing it. However, there was no evidence in the other's thoughts regarding knowing anything he should not, and Mortis himself was not aware of any break-ins that went as deep as to find his mental vault. From what he could tell, none of the pictures he had picked out for study from the prior evening suggested that he had any interest in his brethren. Even in life, there were none that held the same bodily configuration as those he decided to spend interest on. Even during the initial evening that they decided to answer the question that had been posed by his sheep-headed self, it did not seem that the fellow Judge was all that serious about what he was proposing. Although, there was one event during all that occurred that one night that he could not shake.

    Fear had kissed him. It was more of a simple peck, certainly. A means of testing the waters to see if he liked the sensation. It was nothing too intimate or deep, but the effect was still there. Despite the decades of discipline he put himself through, he had never foreseen any of the other lieutenants even getting as close as he did. Yet, there he was, sitting sideways on him, his clawed hands cupping his skull and gently pressing the metal of his helm against the bone. For a moment he had longed for more, for an embrace perhaps, to be held and to hold him in return. His caped back beneath his fingers as he pulled him close and returned what was given tenfold.  He had wanted to accept it as it was, but the risks far outweighed the benefit of revealing what he had hidden away fro so long. His tail had lashed in what likely looked to be surprise for Fear, but the effort it took to retain his composure... It reduced him to merely sitting on the couch, claws digging into the cushions to the point where the fabric may shred and tear beneath them. Even with it there still was a trickle of enjoyment, his brother had seen but a droplet of what he managed to hold back. Yet, it could have been enough for Fear to find him out.

    Mortis took another drag and sighed a cloud of toxic smoke from between his teeth. Could that be what he was doing this entire time? Could he have found him out and said nothing, yet continue entertaining his curiosities? Was everything that occurred a few hours ago merely teasing at his weakness? He shook his head, a wisp of grey training behind the cigarette like a sickly ribbon. No, Fear would not be so cruel. None of them would have taunted or teased him about it, should they have found out, they would have wasted no time in reprimanding him and sentencing the proper punishments. Thus, that left one question, an inquiry which the Dark Judge was hesitant to entertain. Could Fear feel the same about him?

    "....You sssee me with sssomeone like yourssself? Your body type?"
    "Who wouldn't want thisss body?"

    "..." No, he could not have. Fear was merely stating that as an answer to his own earlier question. One which in hindsight he should have never posed. "What do you see me with?" He had asked, and while he had not a clue of the answer, the one which was given had grown to be too close for his own comfort. He should not be with another Judge. It was against their code of ethics, their laws and regulations. Mortis could see the insinuation, even if it was a harmless offer. Fear had not been insinuating that he be with him, he had not insinuated that he was attracted to him. All that he had done was to humor him, to give some form of spectrum to help him answer the question posed. It was not Fear's fault that everything had gone the way it did.

    All that had been done was out of his own interest, his own attempt to further bury and forget what he had been suppressing for so long. It was his own fault that everything was bubbling back up again to bite him in his bony ass.

    He knew this well enough, and should he continue to entertain the notion that perhaps he could find something else to turn his interest towards?

    That would only end in failure as well. As much as he would have liked to think it would have perhaps 'cured' him, he knew where that path would eventually lead. He would inevitably grow bias towards who he decided to become close to, they would get in the way of his duty. He would no longer be an impartial servant of their law if he thought one other, citizen or sinner, to be more important than the rest. He would be no better than their missing Chief Judge. He would be damned if he decided to try and explore further what he had been keeping secret, either with his brethren or one who was not a Dark Judge like himself...

    But all the same, something had to be done about this.

    His thoughts turned back towards the memory trove. Faces and voices, familiar sights and sounds and the feelings associated with them. They were the cause of this. Should he have let them simply fade into the ether he would not be dealing with the consequences of having them would he? He would not need to suppress a feeling if he did not know what it was associated with, right? He thought so. It was objective, it was the answer to his issues. Each time he had spent looking back on these memories was another reason to humor them, to think that perhaps something good could come of possessing them. They were not necessary for his duties, his responsibilities to the law. He could go without them, right?

    Yet, as he loomed over one such memory, claws poised to shred it into nothing but a handful of stray fragments... he faltered. The smiling face of a towering, powerful Judge looked back at him, the rest of his face obscured by a shiny black helmet trimmed with silver paint. There was a rock his great shoulders and he heard his booming laugh, amused by... something. The context was obscured, but what mattered had been the reaction, the way he had looked at him, like he was perhaps more than just another Judge walking the beat.

    The law comes first, Mortis.

    Another, perhaps. There had to be one that was easy to start with. He shuffled through conversations, laughter, joy, shared drinks and thoughts alike. He paused at an old conversation, aged yet kept in good condition through regular remembrance and maintenance. Death's wide grin was in this one, taking place soon after Mortis had arisen from his passage into death itself and returning into undeath. It was congratulatory, pride evident in the fellow Dark Judge's words as he saw one of the Judges he had worked alongside arise as one of his brethren. There was something sentimental about his words that he could not help but linger upon. The way a clawed hand was clapped on his shoulder, the gleam in Death's glazed over eyes. His claws froze in place as he found himself  reminiscing over the memory instead of ripping it to pieces.

    The law comes first.

    His sense urged him on, and Mortis looked about to see if there could be a less important target to sink his talons into. Everywhere he looked, a familiar face, both alive and dead. Everywhere an event, no matter how insignificant the time frame may be.

    Law.

    A talk, a meaningful glance, a smile...

    Comes.

    Admiration, longing, love...

    First.

    Distress flooded him, each and every memory he held...They all clamored for his attention, days upon days of meaning and purpose, a mere three souls drowning out of a sea filled with thousands that had been sent to their graves. Hundreds of moments preserved in eternity threatened to overwhelm his pathetic efforts. He could not find a way to break them, to remove them entirely. There were too many, too many precious treasures that he could not bear to give up. He slammed each of the fail-safes into place once again and quickly sank it all back into the abyss. His attention swiftly turned to the walled off mental link, as if to ensure the barricade was still there, that no one was peeking in to witness his conflict.

    Mortis took another drag of his cigarette, smoke jetting from his nasal cavity as a clawed hand reached to press its fingertips against his temple. Something had to be done about this...

    If he could not bring himself to destroy what he had created, he knew that it inevitably would come back to surface again. So long as this place kept them stagnant and unable to carry out their plans, they would come back up, they would haunt him again and possibly make Fear start to suspect something was wrong with him. It made no sense, he should be able to destroy those preserved memories, those feelings and longing that he buried. He had created them, thus he should be able to destroy them. Yet... He had been forced to lock them away again. Somehow, they grew more powerful than his own will.

    No... He was kidding himself, putting forth an excuse, surely.

    After all, all that was required in order to do what he needed rested upon himself. That was how it always went regarding his personal tomb. Immediately his thoughts turned back to his old regimen. He had been able to keep all of this buried before, certainly there had to be a way of continuing to keep them buried now. All he needed to do was focus. What could be done in order to keep it all buried as deeply as he needed it to?

    Another drag, and the Judge came to an epiphany. None of this surfaced until he decided to start questioning his self, his orientation and the interests that came with it. knowing the complications that came with it, it would be simple enough to quash that notion completely and leave it to rot. As it should. Yes, it all seemed to be stable enough of a plan, until a reminder drifted up to his attention.

    "Sssince when have we kept sssecretsss from one another?...Not counting Sssidney. Sssidney isss a horrid example."
    "Ssss... I am... Uncertain if I can explain."
    "Poppycock, brother. You can. You've never had difficulty explaining anything before."
    "Thisss isss different."
    "...?"
    "By law and our regulationsss I know that the reasssoning behind thisss isss... It isss sssomething that ssshould be sssquelched. Pleassse, Fear, allow me to leave."
    "Sssquelched? But - ... Very well, Mortisss. I ssshall comply."

    Fear would not sit by forever and let himself be kept in the dark. Sooner or later he would start to ask questions. Even if he wanted to simply toss his actions aside, the repercussions would come back. Next time, he would not let him leave should he slip up. Still, the matter of simply telling his brother about his feelings was out of the question, if he valued his duties and integrity.

    Therein, the answer was simple, he would apologize for the confusion he put his brother though, and put more effort into ensuring that damnable desire never resurfaced again.

    For the sake of the law, and his duties.

    The wall between himself and his brother lifted, his conflict quelled and resolved. With a creak of rotted joints, Mortis rose to his feet, the rest of his smoke spent with one final drag and exhale. He placed the pack and lighter in their respective pouches, and tossed the butt, along with the accumulated ash, aside. The remnants of his smoke break were exhaled in a thin cloud as he pushed the chair back in to the table and made his way towards the rotted door, easily pushing the soft, pulpy remains of the wood aside as he stepped out into the morning sun. There was work to be done, and it would not be accomplished by sitting in an empty house, waiting for its residents to respawn...

    Reminiscing over what will never be.

      Current date/time is Fri Sep 22, 2017 1:07 pm