Moments Before Ascension

Finally, in the case of Heidi Snow, there was nothing, for she lived perpetually in an endless nothingness. All that existed was infinite space between her and the ground floor, yet to call it something as solid as that would be a mistake. A better way would be an endless Abyss she was seemingly seconds away from descending into limitlessly. But that wasn't her, instead, she just sat there. Unlike her Samurai opponent with the honorable seating of a Japanese warrior, her legs stretched out, palms hovering over the void below her, hums exited her lips as she sang like a delighted schoolgirl,

"This is… curious," Mentioned Cthulhu, echoing voice repeatedly bouncing endlessly across these blackened walls encasing her- one eye-opening at the sound of his resounding vocals,

"Huh?"

"There is no specific moment for you, in your past, it seems you've regretted no one thing, if I'm correct," The Sea God retorted back at her, to which she jumped up and laughed mockingly, pointing her finger all around this all-black chamber,

"HAH! Told your space god ass!!" Heidi declared with a smug look over her face, letting her hair fluff momentarily as she stepped back, crossing her chest with her arms.

But, unfortunately, things could never be that simple, for the inability to feel anything, sympathy for understanding one's feelings, empathy for feeling the same as their feelings; without that capability, could you truly call one 'human'? And so, as she sat her legs down, crossing her legs together, she was met with most unsettling news to her, of all people,

"No, there is no ONE moment for you that you regret. In actuality, everything from the second you accepted Doctor Kuno's offer to become part of his assassin task force has been a single enormous regret. You hate yourself, every single bit of yourself, you wish... you were dead, don't you?"

But who was he to tell him who she was and what she felt? She was her person, she controlled every aspect of her being, of course, she had her mind under personal manipulation. However, if that were so... why was it that her eyes were widened, with tears welled up in the corners, sweat rapidly dripping down her face. Was she so weak to be powerless against the truth of her feelings? Was the feeling of 'guilt' so taboo in the condenses of her imprisoned mind that she wasn't familiar with such a sensation?

"That's impossible! WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT MY OWN FUCKING FEELINGS ARE?! YOU'RE JUST SOME... PATHETIC... FUCKING... fantasy..." Her cries were desperate, Cthulhu's maddening eyes embedded into his squid-shaped skull turned from the darkness to stare into her own,

"I am the Original Founder, one of the Great Old Ones of Power. I, out of all the beings in this vast Universe that stretches beyond without end in sight, am the PERFECT JUDGE for one of your caliber... Heidi Snow," His clawed finger emerged out the bottomless shadows, sharpening to shine in the light above Snow's head... she could tell, right then and there.

She was jesting, she had to be, right? Screaming with all her might so her vocals were on the verge of shattering, to challenge the power of such a THING! Could any words in the English vocabulary describe the immense aura she felt pouring off every part of his soul? Then again, that is, if it even had one. Parting her lips, weakened utters quietly spouting out her dry lips... there was nothing. No words she could even attempt to state in rebellion at its declaration. And so, she fell to her knees with a shockwave echoing out as her legs thud against the invisible platform. Breathing ragged, eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down her cheeks, Cthulhu grumbled at the sight of such a human, only weak from the emergence... of such emotions, not that of one she knew, but of herself,

"Are you so ashamed of this feeling that you deny its very existence? How insolent may you be...? Admit it, you hate yourself and everyone around you, so much so because they ignored you. You tried your best to be likable, but no one ever seemed to pay attention, and so, began your downfall... you killed a classmate, didn't you? A male?"

What point was there in lying anymore? In the face of insurmountable strength such as this, she was powerless, left like an ant right below the boot of human meaning to rid them of their short lives. Flashes of the past played on the ground, witnessing a child electrocuted strapped down against a chair over their wrists, she was but a bystander, looking in from a blacked-out window. Her arms were useless, as, from the scientist casting their shadow over her tiny body, there were knives implanted into her shoulders,

"The one thing besides that horrific sight I remember most of all is his words, drilled into my damned head. They were-"

"Every time you cry, one of these goes inside you... in different ways,"

"His words were like those of the way a centipede wriggles around rapidly, I can only imagine how horrible it'd feel to have one of those inside your head. Seething rapidly through my brain, infiltrating my mind and violating me from my innards... it disgusts me. I hate him, I hate everyone for not helping me... why do you just cry from being hurt?Fight back, you weakling. Do something, you're as powerless as you think you are. Just- DO SOMETHING AL-FUCKING-READY!!! DO SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Do something... you damn weakling," She sobbed in her arms, knees brought to her chest, those cries, those begs of weakness, that of which she declared.... they never stopped.

The images faded, nevertheless, she was still here, albeit distressed. Out of everyone, she survived, but what was the point? In the end, she was a murderer, but so what? Did it matter? No one would help the other if they were writhing in agony in the middle of the road, no one would sacrifice themselves for the sake of another's betterment. And so, why should she? She was her person, that was what she always told herself, and nevertheless, the remnants of his influence remained as if they never left. Would she forever be in the clutches of someone else, a wretched man she hadn't seen in decades by now, tied around his finger?

Was she... not herself, all along?

"You regret everything. You hate everything and everyone, and yet you accepted N....- Rivers' offer for the Frontier, isn't that right? You did that because you're desperate for a place to stay, for someone to care for you, and tell you that you are your person. I don't care about you, neither about your comrades, so do me a favor, and take care of your pathetic feelings. Destroy it all if it bothers you, ensure no stone goes unturned, for the sake of your ecstasy and betterment... if they dare to take away your freedom, then kill them. Rid them of their lives, the same way they tried to do to you. Let it all loose- and ascend!"

At the same time, walking through the streets of a city, was a mass horde, the number of which spanned multiple blocks. Halfway across this city, there sat a deceased newscaster with his brains blown out the back of his head, slumped over the desk. Shroud moving behind his ankles so he could slowly push away the backdrop, he revealed the windows, all pushed against one another, revealing the outside world of the night sky reflecting in his dark blue eyes. It was something out of a horror movie, the way they marched like soldiers, raising their knees high as they could, almost as if they were dazed...

'Is this really the right move?' He thought, and just like that, he turned away from the sight, unclipping his cape thus showing off his physique, arms bandaged just to his shoulders.

The corpse in the seat was pushed out, with Karlo replacing his slumped-over figure, heads in his hands, a sigh exited his lips. One not of dejection, but confusion, it seemed,

'Why do I feel this way?' He thought, 'He's not gonna kill them all. And that's what I wanted, for only those guilty to die, that's why I didn't feel anything when I killed all those guards. '

His eyes remained motionless, devoid of any light indicating he was alive, they were hung, the same as his head, sweat dripped down a spiky strand to hit the floor. Arms hanging off his legs, hands dangling above the floor, an exhalation pushed out between his pink lips, thinking back to before. Before that 'new way to rebel' had been offered to him, when he was living alone. Drinking alcohol, watching television, smoking weed, ordering out every day, those days were empty, and this was lively. Or at least, that's what it seemed... why did he feel this way?

'I came back because I wanted to get back at them for robbing my childhood. Stealing a rightful life I could've lived happily with friends... with Rizia... with him. That's all there was to it. Nothing more, nothing less. But, now, most of them are dead. The Revolution is being stolen, and Cal should be on his way here soon. Those corrupt will get what they deserve, and that's 'justice.' But... is it really?'

He looked at his hands, and just then, he realized. His vision had hazed, a shaky gasp discharged out his lips, and he swelled up his breathing so he could hesitantly inhale. Nothing more could compare to the feeling of seeing another's blood on your hands, that of a victim, that had a family. The newscaster, had a family, and they might be the ones who ignored the news, they might still be sound asleep while the wife waits in bed for her husband to get home.

Was he so guilty he'd deem those unworthy of death his prey, the same way the predatory Elite did... when they took him from his mother. None of it mattered, though, not to him. It didn't matter, nothing did, as he looked to the ceiling with tears in his eyes, it was clear he peered through the border to look upon the sky. The way the stars twinkled in his memories, the white illumination of the moonlight reflecting into his azure pupils. For it was such a wondrous thing... but he only said one thing, to one girl, one far away from this world,

'Katie... tell me, please. I need to know... if I'm doing the 'right' thing- if I'm a 'good person. Please say something... anything... all I want is to make you proud...'

A broken man on his knees, crying out to his dead child for forgiveness, for acceptance, for acknowledgment... but who else would do it? Who else would come to his aid when he needed a hug, for someone to tell him they loved him, comforting him with their arms entangling his body. Was that all he craved, for all twenty-something years of his life, a new start, someone to love, an excuse- to be normal. But what more could he do? Hang his head in shame, remember those dead bodies of his victims, missing limbs, missing heads, in the end, there was no escaping it,

'Ah, that's right. This is... my justice. They're nothing less than rabid monkeys waiting to slaughtered. This is... my justice,'

Meanwhile, there were two events occurring, as Rizia stood staring off into the distance, the sun emerged from over the horizon to shine over their face. Grunting at the heated sting the rays made once touching their eyes, the bystanders halted their march then noticing the arrival of morning.

Behind the marchers, still inside the newscaster building, Azazel stood right up at the way the sun burst through the despairing darkness of the endless night to reveal the sight before them; a new day, August 4th, 2011. With each passing night, another cane would follow thereafter, thus forth declaring anew cycle of life that will continue to go on without end. Summer was nearing an end, and with that climax, there would be a reckoning. And so, off in horizon, as Kosuke moved their hands away to heighten their eyesight, squinting just barely… there they could make it out.

From this much of a distance, it was unclear, maybe some sort of dolphin flying into the sky from the Hudson? But it couldn't be… because it was still a over the river, and then, that's when they could make it out. The Revolution itself with a snowy-haired Heidi at the top, arms spread out from each side of her body, crying out to the heavens as the ship propelled itself at breakneck speeds,

"YOUR SAVIOR HAS ARRIVED!!!"