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


    Day Two

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    Mortis
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    Day Two

    Post by Mortis on Sat Aug 15, 2015 2:00 am

    Time: Early Morning
    Date: August 13, 0006

    A day.

    It had been a whole day since he had cut himself off from Fear. He should have felt calmer, more focused, maybe even a small sense of freedom without having Fear hitched to him constantly. Without having run off trickle over to his side. Yet... As he continued to lay in the grass, still curled in a fetal position since the night prior, all he could feel was that itch. Perhaps it was a side effect of their long time together, or maybe something inherent that the Sisters had worked into their spell. Regardless, all he knew that cutting himself away for so long, while he thought it noble in the way of sparing his brother from his conflict, was beginning to feel more like a torture.

    If it were not for his own short comings, he would not have had to resort to this, he reminded himself. Had he not started feeling, had he not felt the effects of that green sinner's humanity that managed to infect Fear...

    He paused, tail curling as he realized what he was thinking. No, Fear had nothing to do with this. Kev had nothing to do with this. Kev had not been around when these feelings had first manifested, his attraction, his admiration had been around for far longer. It had been as eternal as himself. How many centuries had he kept everything bottled away, securely placed in a mental vault so as to not let on any apparent weakness? About three, he figured, but even so, he had managed to keep everything under wraps even when Kev and Fear met and made this bargain of theirs.

    So what made him suddenly try to blame it on them? There was a flustered hiss and Mortis curled tighter in on himself. He knew the answer, though he loathed to admit it.

    He knew they used to be human, he knew they used to have humanity, albeit in some twisted form. Mortis knew that not all of it was removed when they passed over to their current existences, transcended past the mortal realm and into undeath. They still held feelings, they still had emotions, and Mortis hated it. Inwardly he glanced back over in the direction of the mental vault, still sunk deep into the abysmal recesses of his mind. He had these ridiculous emotions because of them, those damned memories he had thought to keep hidden away, secreted like a dragon with his hoard. Oh yes, they started out benign enough, a few keepsakes of a trio that he adored and longed for, loved more than anything else in this dimension or any others that they had been swept off to. Now, because he could not make himself get rid of them, they were staring to poison his judgement, induce bias. It only made sense, for what came after love?

    Jealousy, envy.

    The thoughts about his brother and Kev, his scrutiny about their activities to the point of interrogation. There was no reason for him to suspect anything of his brother, especially when what was struck was for the sake of their plan, the sake of their goals that had been so carefully arranged, meticulously set into motion. To think he started to grow jealous of what Kev and Fear had, when he knew exactly why they had it in the first place... Horror shot through him, the ghoul's dirt crusted talons curling into fists.

    What they had was not even anything worth fretting over! Cuddling, tea, in-jokes... He and Fear did the same thing! Granted, it was Mortis who did most of the 'cuddling' prior to his attempt to bury that vault of emotion and memories further, but it still counted. Fear allowed it, he did not demand for him to stop leaning on his shoulder or wrapping an arm around him. Horror mixed with confusion, and the ghoul rolled over onto his other side, morning dew dripping from his bones and trickling over his uniform. One of his hands unclenched and rose to his skull, resting just above the nasal bones. "I'm going mad..." He muttered to himself shakily, an icy, hollow sigh shuddering from his ribs soon after.

    Is this not the reason for this voyage?

    Yes, this was precisely the reason. Was this what love draws out of people? Was this jealousy the end product of all his longing and admiration, damned to poison his thoughts and render his incapable of doing his job to the best of his ability? What good was he if was just as ready to condemn Fear for his actions as well as admire him for them? They were brothers, eternally loyal and devoted to their law, to each other. There was no room for suspicion, for betrayal.

    Betrayal would have been all that came out of this in the end, it was only inevitable should he continue to harbor these feelings.

    Not if it is stopped at its source.

    Of course, of course... He would no longer be longing, admiring, afflicted with a love that held no place in their work. He would no longer be compromised if he just destroyed what he had been hiding away, coveting for so long. Yet... He slowly, hesitantly drew near the many layers that surrounded his hoard, tracing over the resilient edges and its tough, unyielding surface. Made so no one could get past it, no one could peek in and see what was never their business, except for himself. He knew better than to open it up, to look inside at all he had kept so diligently locked away, with him being its only key. However, he could not help but start to peel back layer after layer, wall after wall. Deeper and deeper he went, until he started to feel the familiar warmth that emanated from it. He paused, drawing away slightly as he pondered the aura that emanated from within.

    He had visited it before, looked at each and every face within with longing and admiration, a container full of wishes and dreams. However, this time he was hesitant to open it up. Would its influence only fuel the progress of the poisons that were already spreading within him, overwhelming him and foiling his efforts before he could formulate the proper antidote? Of course not, the memories had been buried away while he had started to feel the toxic burn of jealousy within his mind.

    He still remained outside the final gate nonetheless.

    Mortis lingered there for seemed like hours, staring at the void-like surface of the final barrier, the very first he had set up all those years ago. Risk and reward were evaluated and measured to a sharp degree, the end result of his calculations being... To open the vault completely.

    Warmth enveloped him as the final barrier was set aside, and a cascade of familiar faces and voices swept around him. Fear, Fire, Death... All of them were here, both in death and in life. On duty, off duty, Mortis passed by them and took his time reviewing each and every memory, that all too familiar, all too disgusting, desire rising within him. These were what had caused his sudden suspicion towards Fear, towards the only brother he had left. That love, that longing for something more than just brotherly loyalty, started to grow painful, sickly, the more it stayed with him, the more he remained and looked at his brother's faces.

    He had done this.

    He had warped himself, his perverted ideals had started to turn him against his brother.

    Distress and horror mingled with emotional pain, the memories started to feel like they were too much, too crowding. He could feel their stares, both hidden and non, boring into him despite their smiling visages, despite the pleasant times that were captured and stored within this private vault. They could see him, Mortis thought, shrinking away from their visages. it could not be possible, they were merely memories, visages from time long past that he managed to keep in shape, polished and shined to reflect their near perfect remembrance. they could not see him... Could they? His gaze returned to the mass of memories, and found himself proven wrong. Or so he thought. They could see his crimes, his flaws, his sins... He was guilty.

    He was guilty of treating his brother with such suspicion, for refusing the loyalty they so generously, so lovingly gave each other.

    Traitor.

    A sob caught itself in his throat and he cowered once again, curling in on himself as if to hide from their combined gaze. Betrayal was not the inevitable, the end result of his envy and jealousy should he let it thrive, it had already happened. It happened the moment he started prying into Fear's actions, his decisions, the moment he started to fail in his suppression. Distress turned to panic, and the warmth that surrounded him started to feel hellish, suffocating. He needed to leave, he needed to sink all of this back to where it belonged. All of the barriers were put back in place, locked tight as he left the sturdy vault and buried it back into the abyss.

    For a while he laid there in the grass, silent as he processed it all. He was a traitor, he betrayed his only brother, for what? A dream that could never be, something that he had been so foolish as to even begin to entertain.

    It was all the more reason he needed to keep going, do what he set out to do. The sooner he got rid of these memories and the feelings they held, the sooner he could become better, the sooner he could prove that he was fit for duty. Prove to his brother that he could be trusted, relied upon. Rolling to his feet, Mortis stood up and made his way over to the house he had purged of life earlier. The truck was still in the driveway, keys in the ignition though their owner had dissolved and was whisked away to the Pool. Aside from the rent door that laid at the end of the driveway and the metal within the door frame that was twisted and pulled outward from the Judge's earlier chase, there was nothing that gave any indication of the massacre that happened.

    As he stepped into the driver's side, already dawn was well on its way, the sky brightening from its dark purples and blues to reds and oranges as the sun crept up from the horizon. Compared to the more abiding interior of KARR, it felt as if the Judge was sitting in a child's toy, his legs pressed up into his chest and arms knocking upon his knees as he felt around for the ignition.

    Soon that was changed for reaching down for the lever that changed the position of the seat, gears clicking upon their runners as Mortis pulled it and pushed it back as far as it could go. Even with the seat pushed back as much as it was, there still was some room to be desired. Ah, but what was some discomfort compared to his goal in the long run, hm? Finding the key, Mortis gave it a few turns, pressing his foot on the gas to pump fuel into the engine with each sputtering turn. The engine couched and wheezed a few times, the ghoul hissing quiet words of encouragement to the lifeless machinery as he turned it over again.

    At once it purred to life, thick black exhaust puttering out the back. With a groan of gears, Mortis pushed the rust-covered relic into reverse and pulled out of the driveway, rolling onto the road with a destination in mind. Another protesting groan from the vehicle as he shifted it again, and the Dark Judge was rumbling on his way down the dust covered road.
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    Re: Day Two

    Post by Mortis on Sat Aug 15, 2015 2:55 pm

    Time: Noon-ish

    As the sun rose over the vast acres of farmland, Mortis had been driving along the winding dirt roads, past numerous barns, ranches, and expansive fields. All of them begged for his presence, begged to be visited by him and purged of the iniquitous life that existed within these simple places. Yet, as he glanced out of the gaping hole that once held the driver's side door, Mortis found himself... Disinterested. It was a feeling he was hesitant to admit to himself, but it was there.

    What point was there in purging them all, wiping the very criminal life from the face of this region, when time and time again they kept returning, kept coming back to reverse all of his hard work. It was hypocritical he knew, after all, he had been the one to constantly say that sooner or later, these sinners would get tired of returning, tired of existing within their pointless, pathetic lives. It was he who had kept thinking up ways to put a stake in these constantly reincarnating criminals, the silver plated bullet which would stop the cycle dead in its tracks.

    Ha, Dead in its tracks.

    Fear had seen it first, realized it first, the very slim five-to-ten percent of their total purging that resulted in a permanent demise. Mortis had denied it, pushed the chilling possibility to the side as much as he could. It had been easier when the two of them were connected, when they were kept together. But now that he was cut away from his brother's presence... It grew very hard to muster that same energy, that same zeal which came with their work. How odd, he thought, considering he had never felt this way when Fear had been sent off to Limbo, he had not felt this emptiness, this hopelessness. He pondered back upon his three brothers; Death had been their 'brains' for the most part, if only by his elected position of power. Fire had been their fury, their righteous exuberance that had been put forth into their work. Fear, he had been their zeal, their never tiring drive to keep pressing forward. Of course, this was not solely the case. His brothers displayed traits of the other three, not one a simple cookie-cutter image of their own ability, nor were they a clone of each other.

    All the same, Mortis could feel something missing out of his being the longer he stayed disconnected.

    The longer he remained cut off, the more he began to realize, painfully, that it was not his humanity. That was inherent, he knew, as much as he had not wanted it to be. With humanity he had allowed himself to harbor these feelings, love that he both wished to shower his brother with, to fill that longing and admiration with something purposeful, and now also began to loathe.

    No, he did not loathe the feeling itself, he corrected, but more what had come with it. If he had not felt the way he did, he would not have suspected his brother of being corrupted, of straying from their just cause over a single sinner. He would have still seen it for what it was, an undercover operation, a clever manipulation in order to achieve their own ends. Of course he would treat the alien as a friend, of course he would make him feel special. It was imperative to their plans. Yet, here he was, potentially mucking it all up with his own weakness. Fear was no fool either, he knew. The fellow Judge probably noticed the change in demeanor rather easily, he knew that he was starting to act strange and start to suspect some foul play. Yet, he had not been reprimanded for it, reminded of his place and role in the grand scheme of their goal.

    Perhaps it was because Mortis had not made any attempts upon the alien's life? He had not done anything outright to compromise their schemes. He had not suggested any brash or extreme methods, until his final few nights in the city, that is.

    He had suggested they kill Kev.

    He had suggested they kill Cailia.

    What had come over him? It had to be the venomous effect of his desires, his feelings. There was no other probable cause. Since when had he grown so bold as to disrespect his brother's plans? Since when had he been so willing to destroy what they had worked so hard towards? Rotted, bony fingers crackled as they clenched around the truck's worn steering wheel, vinyl bubbling and flaking as his aura flared. He had not done any such thing prior to coming here, prior to losing his hold upon his desires. How foolish of him, for all this time he had been doing so well at keeping everything under lock and key, to the point where none of his brothers would suspect anything, and now here he was, essentially running away from his brother because he could no longer keep them in check. Had this place's way of decay grown to be so heavy that mental barriers no longer had any effect? There had to be a reason why he was having as much trouble as he was, it could not be simple coincidence that he lost control of himself upon coming here.

    In fact, it was ironic in a way, that he, a supernatural being who's very existence and purpose revolved around decay and rot, was suffering from it.

    Of course, there was the possibility of simply admitting his weakness, the corruption in his mind and allowing himself to be subject to judgement. It would be easier, but as he and his brothers already knew, the easiest course was not always the best. A weak mind would give in, a weak mind would allow themselves to accept what they are given and do nothing about it.

    Mortis refused to see himself as such a pathetic excuse of a Judge. There was no place for bias, there was no place for questioning his brother's authority. There was no place for failure on his end. He had made this apparent back in July, and yet... He still found himself struggling to adhere to it. Why?

    That was the question, wasn't it?

    Why was he still so willing to condemn Fear like he had? He knew the answer well enough, it was that jealousy, that delusional thought which should have never taken place in his mind. The thought that held no place in a Judge. Quietly he cursed himself. Why could he not see his brothers as merely co-workers as he did in the past? Why could he not just see Fear as a brother, skip this entire fiasco and be able to function as he should? Ah, but that was the other thing about existence, was it not? Just as the easiest paths are not always the best, the best paths were never easy to follow. Not that it would stop him, he thought to himself.

    He would need to fix this himself, to improve himself to be a better Judge, a better brother. He would become the Judge that Fear deserved, someone to admire, to trust and look up to. He would not let himself sink deeper into this... this lunacy.

    Pressing his foot as far as he could on the gas, Mortis gunned the pickup to the red-line, the machine roaring down the road with its driver's newly found purpose.
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    Re: Day Two

    Post by Mortis on Sat Aug 15, 2015 7:33 pm

    Time: Afternoon

    "I am not 'people'."
    "You were a person once."
    "I am a Judge, undead. It doesss not mean I am one now."
    "You still are one."

    For the past few miles that exchange had been stubbornly on repeat, Cailia's voice ringing within his mind in a way that managed to drown out the bumps and thumps as his 'borrowed' pickup hit a few small bumps in the road. Time and time again, he words rang irritatingly true. They had been human at one point, they had been people. They were subject to human emotions, thoughts, feelings. They had desires at one point, interests, distractions and even dreams, all of which carried over into their now immortal state. Was it not a feeling of kinship that Mortis had picked up on from Fire during their brief escape amidst the pandemonium of the Day of Chaos? Was it not human of him to see something familiar in that wretch P.J Maybe, to think that he could have been one of them? Yes, and there was more than one occasion that the sheep-skull headed Judge took notice of their inherent flaws.

    Fear's zealous nature, for instance, filled with absolute thrill when they were free to carry on killing. His desire and attractions, were another.

    Death's eccentricity, outright insane in his dogged pursuit of purging the Mega City despite the number of times they had failed. Did he not feel morose over his amounting failures, the numerous times they had been captured and contained? The fiend even had his times of acting a fool, going out into the Cursed Earth and dare he even ponder such a thing, mingling with the sinners the populated it instead of killing them outright.

    Thus, one would have to ask, with all these examples of their humanity, their flaws being so apparent; why was it that Mortis' own were such a crime? How could it be that his desires and longing were deemed to be so unlawful, so criminal? It was not unnatural to have such a feeling, so a wistful desire to be with another even if you yourself know that it could never be. It was not unnatural to be flawed, to be imperfect. This in essence, was Cailia's argument though she had not put it as so.

    It was what irritated him. This argument that gave his own thoughts, his own emotions, their sense of validation. He should not be validated in his desires, he should not feel like they belong. They were the outlier, the corruption that threatened to take him mind and soul, and twist his just being into something horrid. Something that would get in the way of their cause, their goals. He could not be human, a person as Cailia had put it. The moment he turned human, the very instant that he allowed his desires to be valid, to have importance, would be when his badge would tarnish and his purpose would no longer have meaning, He would no longer be fit for duty, he would be no better than the sinners he purged!

    Sinners that allowed the unimportant to get in the way of what mattered.

    Sinners that let their irrational feelings, their criminal mindsets, bend and break the very rules that they, the Judges, put in place.

    Put-put-sputter!

    Sinners that apparently liked to neglect keeping the tank full. For the first time since Mortis had left the house he had purged, his gaze turned to the fuel gauge, its needle now sunk completely below the glowing red E the indicated the tank was empty and resting at the bottom of the gauge. Once again the truck gave a sputtering cough, the fuel pump catching more air than gasoline, and Mortis hissed a stream of curses. Having been running at full speed for hours on end, there was enough momentum generated already for the vehicle to keep coasting under its own power, even as the engine continued to labor and wheeze as more and more air pockets became apparent. A few miles later and there were no fumes left for it to run on, the engine dying with a shudder.

    Once the vehicle started to slow, Mortis pulled it over to the side and brought it to a halt. The rest of his introspection would have to be on foot, it seemed.

    He climbed out of the cab, the ground turning a dead black as maggots started to writhe up from the dirt the moment his feet touched it. Useless contraptions, sinner vehicles, or perhaps he was more used to KARR's superior efficiency and range... Regardles of the answer, Mortis could not help but spare a moment to rake the tires with his talons before heading on his way. A small thank you to the owner that was not all that thankful.

    Even with this unexpected setback, Mortis was getting close to his destination. It's aura was growing stronger and stronger with each step...
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    Re: Day Two

    Post by Mortis on Sat Aug 15, 2015 10:32 pm

    Time: Evening

    Every step, he had told himself, was supposed to bring him closer to a solution. The solution of course being the answer to his problems. Yet, as he kept walking along the worn, cracked asphalt, he fuond himself only being encountered with even more of a problem. If his previous life had been the reason that he was feeling the way he did now, for having these feelings carry over and weaken himself, how was he to fix it all? Certainly he could just remove the mental vault and call it all fixed, but all the same, it did not seem to be all that thorough. Quickly a scenario started to formulate within his mind...

    If he still retained a single shred of this humanity, he would still have feelings.

    If he still had feelings there would be a chance he would once again start to accumulate memories, and his work would be for naught.

    He would land himself right back on square one no matter how long he had spent away trying to fix his issues.

    A shiver traced its way across his mind at the answer he would need to seek. He would need to wipe everything. All of his passions, his emotions, from happiness to sadness, adoration, and love, with any and all other feelings in between. He would be eternally committed to his task, yes, but at what cost? What did it mean to roam the rest of his existence as an emotionless being, wiped clean of his fond memories and retaining only those that ensured the success of their goal? Would it be considered hellish, the fate of a broken man; or would it be salvation from his sinful desires, ascending him to a pinnacle of justice that not even his brothers had been able to seek? Part of him looked back to the mental blockade that still stood firmly in place, the desire to rip it away now stronger than ever.

    How he wished he could speak to Fear about it, to discuss this matter further with one who was a master of feelings, who's realm lied in emotion and the psyche. Yet, it just as quickly was thankful his brother was not subject to the torment of his conflicted mind and the paths he would need to choose. He loathed the mental divide as much as he was grateful for it, and the Judge could not help but rest his claws upon his belt, talons poking and grasping at the rotting fabric of its numerous pouches as he continued his walk.

    A smoke would feel really good right about now...

    By now the sky once again was ablaze in fiery reds and oranges, the sun starting to make its descent in preparation of the coming night. Grasses and buildings alike started to turn into silhouettes as dusk set in, the dull, red glow within Mortis' eye sockets starting to become more evident the further the sun sank below the horizon. Gazing ever forward, but not focusing completely on the path he was walking.

    "I am not a perssson." He hissed to himself, Cailia's prior statements coming to mind once again as he further puzzled out the fork in his personal road. "I am a Judge... I am a Judge..." Like a mantra he repeated it over and over to himself, a quiet whisper in the night.

    A Judge did not worry about feelings, a Judge did not become conflicted over their humanity. People become conflicted over their feelings, they let them get in the way of their purpose, their duties and goals. Mortis, by this logic was not a person, he lacked this humanity. Or at least, he should have lacked it. Yet, the idea of having to essentially destroy what made him a person disturbed him, despite the good he knew it would do. Perhaps it was the idea of having to destroy so many cherished memories, so many small moments that brought him so much adoration and love from looking back on them. Maybe it was the way he had interacted with Fear, and knowing that should he remove them all, some things would not be quite the same as they used to be.

    It would not be that big of a difference, he told himself. Fear would notice a change, but it would be one that was good.

    He would like the outcome of his labor, he would enjoy having a brother that did have feelings to get in the way of their schemes.

    He had to.

    What if he did not like it?

    Mortis paused in his steps, the Dark Judge's whispered mantra silenced for the time being. Indeed, what if Fear was appalled by the change, by his lack of feeling. Would it alienate him? Would Fear think of him as lesser should he go through with it? Slowly, hesitantly, Mortis resumed his pace, claws scratching against asphalt as he made his way down the dark road. He already thought of him as lesser by now, Mortis thought to himself. He was already anxious from how often he had been putting up barriers, he already suspected something was amiss. The way he acted in the Sanctuary during the few days prior to his departure only set in stone what Fear likely suspected of him. If he did not suspect Mortis' attraction and longing, he surely would have pondered upon the possibility that one of his brothers was growing closer towards being unfit for duty. After all, what Judge would allow him to go and destroy all that he had been working towards, foil everything that had been so tediously set up? Who would allow his passions to get in the way and still dare to call themselves a devoted servant of the law?

    No one would, especially not Fear, who sacrificed his own by-the-book methods for the sake of success. He would have no issue using that same rules-and-guidelines mentality to put him back in his place, to remind him of where he stood in the grand scheme of things, should he reveal his true nature.

    It was only right to go through with this. It was only right to sacrifice himself, his being for the sake of the goal. Did that make him a martyr? Perhaps, and perhaps not. Although, last he checked, martyrs died for the sake of their goals, they died and they did nothing save for give someone a person to pity once everything was said and done. They left mourners, they left memorials and a grave. He would not leave is brother to mourn, he would leave him and his plans behind with nothing but pain and grief to show for it.

    He would be transformed, he would be fixed of his weaknesses. Judge Mortis, one of four dark Judges, one of two remaining brothers, would ascend to be incorruptible, indomitable by pithy desires such as love and adoration, jealousy and envy. He would get better, he would become what Fear deserved, what their laws deserved.

    "I am a Judge..."

    On the horizon, the sheep-skulled Judge could make out the outlines of a familiar two story farmhouse.




    End of Day Two

      Current date/time is Fri Aug 18, 2017 2:16 pm