Fire. That is what this city had come to – a burning inferno that was currently on the verge of destroying itself. Actually no, it was destroying itself. The city was burning all around me and the image bore a heavy and strikingly accurate resemblance of my most recent nightmare, however this one was real and I was not going to wake up. I stared in shock out the window as a man emptied a machine gun into another man’s torso, cutting him to bloody pieces before everyone’s eyes, and both of them screamed so damn loud. At least it wasn’t as bad as when the grenades exploded – they were brutal. Like, it didn’t matter who threw one of them because half the time it blew up everyone from both sides anyway. One time as we went I saw a goddamn finger splatter against the windscreen followed by a messy trail of blood as the driver wiped it away.
Another thing that mesmerised me about all this chaos was just how easy it was for people’s heads to explode. I heard the constant snap of sniper rifles being fired from within or upon the safety of the capital building, and out on the battlefield people’s heads were disappearing one by one in strange clouds of red mist, and yet not a single person seemed to notice.
Our vehicle slowed for a moment in order to slip through an area full of burning cars, and as it did we passed a man with a machine gun. I only saw the back of his head, but I heard all of his fear dissipate as a bullet caught him between the eyes and blood spattered my window. I jumped back as it happened, and I sensed Benson looking at me.
“This is what it looks like when a man pays for his sins,” he explained deviously. “There is to be no pity or sorrow, and above all there is to be no mercy.”
The sight before me was identical to my nightmare of the burning city, but I knew that this one was real, and that that person really died.
I wonder if the person who fired that bullet will ever regret what he did? I guess I’ll never find out.
I was reminded of the mad artist who had painted the burning man with the plant and the decaying skull. I didn’t think he was mad anymore, in fact, I believed that he was perfectly sane. It was everyone else who was mad. I mean, look at this! Is this battleground not the perfect home for the burning man with the plant and the skull? Man was a violent creature with a desire to destroy, but we simply couldn’t help it, it was in our nature. If required of him, a man would kill another man as easily as a fish would bite a hook, and that was the way of things. I, of course, was no exception. Even before I became a murderer I was just a twisted little girl who treated other people as her playthings, hiding behind a pretty smile but all the while dreaming of darker things. The only reason my games never became so drastic was because I was motivated by fear to compose myself, however now I had no reason to hide. I was a monster and that monster was slowly being set free, and I feared that when the monster was out it would intend to feast, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.
The car sped up, we drove for a short while longer, and then we slowed to a stop at the front steps into the capital building. “Let’s end it,” I heard Benson say, as he stepped out of the car.
The air outside was dry, hot and remorseless, and it sucked at my breath like a deathly vacuum. I hoped that it would be nicer inside, although I suspected that the only thing I’d find in there was dead bodies, blank faces and little pools of blood – more smoke and fire.
As we approached the front entrance a man came to us and spoke to Benson directly. “Sir, as you suspected Archibald Lace has fled to his bunker along with the rest of his staff.”
“And have your men retrieved ATLAS?” Benson demanded.
“Yes sir,” the man replied.
Suddenly Benson’s lips twisted into a wicked smile – similar to the one I had used in the diner four days ago, only worse – and he even went so far as to laugh. “Then the war has already been won. So, sorry little brother but the game is finally over and I came out on top.”
He was right in every way. The attacks had worked and the war might as well have been officially over, because whatever walls Lace was hiding behind, well, they didn’t stand a chance against ATLAS. In less than an hour Benson’s own little brother would be dead. Why did he look so happy?
I almost felt sorry for Lace, but I remembered that Benson was also right about another thing: no pity, no sorrow, and no mercy. The war ends when Archibald Lace dies.
“Come,” said Benson, cruelly. “Let’s go get your revenge.
He then turned to the nearest guard – a man who had wrapped a piece of fabric around his head to shield him from the smoke and the fire.
“You, come with us,” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” replied a familiar voice.
As I walked up the marble steps that led me into the capital building, one foot after the other, with fire all around me, I felt as if I were walking into heaven – or at least something similar. I was so empty, so weightless and broken by all of my grief. A sweltering tear rolled down my cheek and I couldn’t explain why. The Abigail that I knew from four days ago seemed to have died along with everyone else, and no matter what I did I was never ever going to see her again.
How was I supposed to recover from this? How would I ever look my mother in the eye knowing that her daughter was dead? How can I ever return to my favourite diner, and watch Tom be clumsy as always, or eat a burger with extra hot sauce, or share pancakes with Mary? What was left for me in this city other than sorrow and painful memories? I had to face it; there was no going back.
Benson and his guard took me through a bunch of hallways and up a flight of stairs, just as Aizel had done this morning – it felt like it was so long ago. And then there it was, the terminal room, just as I had seen it this morning – there was even blood, stained red on the floor from where that guard with the baseball cap had been shot in the hand. This time there are no hostages.
I walked up to the terminal as slowly as I could, placing my hands over the controls as if they were sacred. An explosion ruptured violently through the other side of the building and I felt the ground at my feet begin to rumble.
“Abigail, quickly, the code!” Benson was saying. “Activate the weapon!”
This was it… the last four days of my life had all boiled down to this exact moment. Enter the code. Kill Lace. End the war. 6573-4532-7710-2169-3490.
It was done. I stepped back as if I had just pulled the trigger on a gun. Now all I have to do is fire it. But before I could do anything I was stopped by the sound of Arthur Benson’s voice, a low murmur of a laugh tainted with madness – and I was more than certain by this stage that Benson was more than insane, anyone who could pull off an evil laugh such as his was definitely more than insane. So he couldn’t be trusted after all.
“Aim your pistol at her head,” he told the guard beside him, with a cruel smile and vicious eyes.
The guard did as he was commanded, and once again I felt the terrible weight of a gun bearing down on me, but no matter what I would not show fear. The pistol rested patiently beneath familiar eyes.
“Care to explain?” I asked Benson, although based on the evil laugh I think I already knew the truth – I just needed to hear it from him.
“We’re not going to fire ATLAS on my brother and his staff, oh no, you see, there’s a refuge area further north – it’s very far away and heavily guarded. That’s where we’ll fire the weapon.”
“What?” I yelled. “Why? Why not just end it now?”
“Justice, my dear, that’s what drives me. Twenty years ago my heartless brother murdered my family. It’s only fair that I do the same to him. You of all people should understand.”
“But there are innocents there! People who had nothing to do with this!”
“Sinners!” Benson snapped. “Every last one of them! Their sacrifice will serve as a good example of the power and the wrath of the resistance!”
“You mean the wrath of Arthur Benson! The resistance exists so that Tartarus city can finally have piece – so that we can be free of people like Lace who exploit their power over others. Adrian believed in that, Aizel believed in that, my father believed in that!”
“And look where it got them! The strong reign over the weak and all of them turned out to be weak, even your father.”
I had to stop and compose myself – otherwise I might have just killed him then. “Tell me the truth, Benson. Did you murder my father?”
His eyes were cold and merciless, and everything about them screamed the truth. “Yes,” he said firmly.
I tensed my hands into fists and I stared at him with the intent to kill. “Why?” I shouted.
“You are so much like him, you know? He would have used ATLAS as a bargaining tool in order to get my brother to stand down. Ha! A bargaining tool! If it came to it, he would have taken Lace out and then destroyed the weapon. He was a fool! When he first informed me of the weapon I began to have my own ideas, ideas that your father would have never stood for, never comprehended.”
“He was your friend!” I spat.
“I have no friends! Only followers, and the only way a man can be loyal is if he’s afraid. Now, I’ve wasted too much time already. Mrs Abigail, you’ve done an excellent job upholding the code but I’m afraid I no longer have any use for you.” He turned to his guard. “Shoot her.”
Nothing happened. The guard didn’t shoot. At long last the truth was out and as my lips turned to my favourite wicked smile I felt that for the very first time I had truly perfected it beyond any possible doubt.
The guard stepped a few paces back and turned his gun onto Benson, standing there with a perfectly solid aim.
“You!” Benson cried out. “What is the meaning of this?”
It was at that moment that Angelo pulled away the cloth that had been hiding his face, and as he did so, he looked most pleased with himself, and so did I for that matter – well, despite all that had happened.
“Angelo was my own little piece of the game,” I explained to Benson. “I had a feeling that you were going to betray me so I had Angelo follow us along feigning as one of your guards, it was simply a matter of insurance, you understand.”
Benson was finally trapped, frozen by his loss. There was still a great raging fire in his eyes however unlike a moment ago I began to see that it was dying away. I had made god bleed and now his divinity was slowly slipping away from him.
“Even if you kill me the resistance will live on. Someone else will take my place. You think the wars will end? Killing is who we are! So if I fall, there are still dozens of other tyrants who will do anything to be on top.”
I slowly moved my arm and gripped the pistol that I had tucked into the back of my pants. “Do you think I care? It doesn’t matter to me who’s in charge, as long as they’re not you or your brother.”
I pulled the gun out and aimed it straight at Benson’s forehead. “Now, I believe I have some vengeance to carry out.”
I could see it plastered all over his face, the shallowness of his eyes, the way his mouth dropped and his jaw tensed, and the ghostly colour of his skin – he was being devoured by fear. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of begging for my life,” he told me, but he almost choked on his own words.
I just looked at him blankly while caressing the trigger of my pistol. “Good for you.” And then my finger pulled back, the pistol exploded, and the bullet hit Arthur Benson right between the eyes. His head snapped back as the bullet collided with his skull, followed by a spray of blood and brains as he toppled to the ground.
My arm was still extended with the gun in my hand, and it didn’t shake or tremble in the slightest. My hands were still, my expression completely unmoved, and I had just murdered Arthur Patrick Benson, leader of the resistance. I’ll admit it felt good, actually no, good was an understatement. It felt amazing! The pain and suffering, the tension and sorrow, and all of the anger, it all simply dissipated in the flash of the muzzle. I wished that it would feel horrible, that my hands would tremble and that I’d brake down in tears, but it didn’t. Jeannette Eliason Abigail was dead now, and I, well I wasn’t even human anymore.
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