Chapter 68. Treason

Twenty years after the fall…

The reign of glasses continues unchallenged…

Can anyone stand against those who bear the very lenses of fate?

THIS IS THE ERA OF BATTLE FRAMES!

Chapter 1. Have you seen this girl? The wanderer in the poisoned Oasis!

There is a type of barren landscape that exists within the Earth known as a desert! A place where the dry winds blow cold at night and chill the very bones of those who wander it. But that same desert will also scorch the flesh of those who dare expose themselves to it during the day! Merciless heat and unrelenting cold, the desert is a place of extreme duality where only the hardy will survive, and weakness is swept from the community, like dust before a broomstick!

Here in this particular desert, existed the community of Burketown. At one time, it had been a thriving respite from the arid wastes that surrounded it, a welcome oasis along the road for the travelers passing through. But that had been a long time ago…

Now, Burketown was a den of fiendish inequity that had long since forgotten its roots as an honorable haven for the weary and thirsty. The people were no longer industrious and hardworking. Vice and greed had replaced the virtues of friendship and respect! Nothing was valued more than money…not even the life of a fellow human being…

For example:

"You're late on your payments again, Harrison!" growled a huge man in a white suit to another fellow in rattier, cheaper looking clothing, who was being held down in a cramped, dirty room, by three other men. "You're three months late, you worthless bastard! And we've been waiting so patiently too!"

"I'll get the money, I SWEEEEAR!" sniveled Harrison, after taking a painful slap to his face. "I'm good for it, I promise I am!"

"Really?" asked the large thug in a condescending manner. "Then why were you trying to skip town with a packed suitcase?"

"W-what? I would…I would never do such a thing!" Harrison stammered in protest.

"Sure, you would, Dad. Because I seen ya packing!" sneered a young boy who stepped out of the shadows to stand at the leading thug's side.

"Harrison Junior?" gasped his father. "You sold me out to the mob? I KNEW I should have kicked your useless mother in the belly before she had you!" he screamed.

"Yeah, well, you missed your chance, asshole!" tittered the wicked boy. "If it makes you feel better, I got paid a load of cash tipping them off about you! Congrats on finally being worth something for once in your shitty life, spit-licker!"

"You bastard! You bastard, oh, I'll get you for this! YOU BASTARD!" screamed Harrison at his son. But the boy just laughed and walked away while greedily counting his wad of bills.

"I have to hand it to that young man, he sure knows his priorities," the lead thug said in an amused voice. "And he wasn't wrong, you are about to be worth quite a bit of money! Once we harvest your internal organs and your skin, that is. Bag him up, boys!"

"No, no, no, no, no—GLEH!" Harrison began to say before a plastic bag was shoved over his head and held tightly in place until he stopped struggling.

"What next, boss?" asked one of the lesser thugs once they were done zipping Harrison into a refrigerated bag.

"What do you think?" he growled. "Go shoot that little punk in the face and get my money back!"

That's how it was in Burketown! A bastion of sin and criminal depravity, where the wicked held supreme power and justice was as noticeable as a fart in a taco bell! All according to the malevolent designs of the one who ruled over this little slice of hell as its undisputed king. The one who seized control of this once happy place and turned it into a reflection of his own corrupt and twisted soul. An evil figure IN GLASSES, who ruled with a heavy hand and dominated all those beneath him…

Burke the Eagle!

But let us now turn our attention to the entrance of this modern day Babylon, where with the rising of a new dawn comes the potential for hope. For on the crumbling pavement, he strode! A mysterious figure adorned in a simple outfit consisting of a black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. But over his shoulders he wore a hooded traveling cloak caked with the dust of the road!

Who was this stranger? From whence did he hail? And why were his eyes so stern and fierce looking?

That last question was answered after he accidentally walked into a street sign. "Ah! Sorry, ma'am! My fault entirely!" he said apologetically before bowing deeply and moving on.

Ah, that explained it. He was extremely nearsighted and had to squint a lot! But his heart was kind, and his will was powerful. He marched with a determined step, and although his eyesight was awful, his gaze was filled with clarity and purpose. What could a young man like this, who exuded healthy energy and mental stability, be doing in a stygian environment like Burketown?

"Excuse me? I'm looking for the girl in this picture, have you seen her?" he asked a random citizen who blew him off without bothering to look in his direction.

It seemed the stranger was searching for someone!

He kept at it for a couple hours but was shunned left and right. The denizens of Burketown didn't like associating with strangers and hated doing anything that was even remotely helpful! Try as he might, no one gave a damn about his questions. Soon, frustration began to wear away at the lad.

Man, I'd heard that this place was an absolute toilet, but the rumors don't do it justice! He thought ruefully to himself. These people clearly don't want me around and I'd be just happy to move on! But first I need to thoroughly search this place, no matter how much these locals utterly suck!

"Huuuuuh. That's interesting. I think I've seen her working over at Slaughterman's pub," said the latest person he asked, a tall looking man with a shaved head who was covered in tattoos. "Yeah, I do know her! That's weird, does she even know you're looking for her?" he asked the stranger.

"Hey, are you being serious? Have you really seen this girl?" the stranger asked him excitedly.

"Why would I lie to a nice kid like yooou? C'mon, me and my buddies will lead the way, won't we, guys?" he said to his three friends with a knowing smile.

"Of course, we will! Community's what we're all about here in Burketown!" said one of them with a yellow toothed smile.

"Hell, yeah!" said another.

"I really appreciate this, guys. Please lead the way!" said the stranger, who really ought to have known better.

***

"All righty, the pub's just through this alley," said the helpful guide.

"Weird," said the stranger. "I know I'm nearsighted and all, but even I can see that's a dead end."

"It ain't much livelier this way either, sucker!" taunted one of the men behind him.

When the stranger turned around, his helpful guide had pulled an object from his back pocket. With a flick of his wrist, a sharp-edged blade sprang forth ready to perforate and slash. It was a deadly, spring-loaded switchblade! A favored weapon of ne'er do wells and cutpurses everywhere!

"Better hand over all your cash, kid. I'll take that fancy looking cloak too," taunted the man who'd pretended to help him. "Better make it quick, because if you don't, I'll cut your throat open and shove a dirty rat in the hole!"

"Hahaha! You tell him, Jerry!" cackled one of his allies.

"So, I take it this means you don't know the girl on my poster?" asked the stranger with a voice heavy with disappointment.

"Are you kidding me, stupid? If I knew a bitch as sweet-looking as that one, I'd be slinging her ass out on the streets and making more money than I can count!" the evil tour guide said while slowly licking his dried and cracked lips.

"Hey, watch your mouth, guy," the stranger said. "You don't get to talk about my friend like that."

"WHAAAAAAT?!" screamed Jerry in murderous rage. "How dare you talk back to me, you simp bastard! I'll talk about that bitch however I choose! In Burketown, the strong rule and the weak obey! You don't get to say ANYTHING about it! Now give me my money or I'll CUT you!"

This impetuous scum dares to challenge ME? Jerry raged inwardly. Look at this massive switchblade I'm holding! This knife is the symbol of my absolute authority over his life and death! He should be begging me to spare him like a good little weakling! Instead, he's staring at me like I'm a complete piece of trash! What an arrogant bastard! I hate him! He has to die! EVERYONE who questions me has to DIE!

"Bastard! I'll KILL YOU!" Jerry shrieked and then rushed at the stranger, intending to plunge his weapon directly through his eye. Hahaha! This punk is so scared of me that he can't even move! I bet he'll squeal like a little girl when my switchblade pops his eyeball! I'll lick the bloody goop off his cheek as it runs down his face and spit it back into his eye socket! Get ready to scream for me!

Instead, the stranger stood his ground. And when Jerry came close enough to strike, he brushed aside the hand with the knife and struck him in the stomach with a devastating full force reverse punch. Jerry went flying backwards, such was the power of the stranger's blow, and collided with his three friends like they were bowling pins, knocking them off balance.

Before they could recover, the stranger was in their midst. He didn't use any flashy, agile techniques against them. Just three, well-practiced, heavy blows delivered by fists that had clearly been forged through hard training, into battering rams. This was the signature, practical style of combat taught in classical karate. Ikken Hissatsu. One punch, one kill!

Each of his punches sent the unconditioned thieves all spiraling to the ground, either unconscious, or too dazed to easily move. After dealing with them, the stranger knelt over Jerry and lightly tapped him on the face to get his attention, before saying, "I don't appreciate you wasting my time like this. Is there any reason I shouldn't break all of your fingers before moving on?"

"Noooo, man, don't do that!" begged Jerry. "I can help you out, I really can!"

"Just like you tried to help me die? Yeah, right!" snorted the stranger.

"I'm serious maaaaan, I'm serious! Listen, that girlie looks young but classy. If someone like her is in town, she's probably at the academy!"

"The academy?" the stranger asked, frowning as he considered Jerry's words.

"Yeah, yeah, the academy! The academy!" Jerry mewled. "It's where all the rich bigshots in this puke town who think they're better than the rest of us send their brats! They once beat me like a dog just because I tried asking one of them students for a loan so's I could catch a bus ride home! They're so stuck up!"

"Yeah, you probably deserved it," the stranger said. "Still, you might have a point. A private school could be just the sort of place she'd choose to be at…okay. Thanks for the help. If you ever cross me again, I'll kill you, but still, thanks for the help."

"No problem, man, no problem! Jerry's got you!" Jerry said quickly with an obnoxious smile. But once the stranger had left the alley, Jerry's eager expression turned into one filled with pure hate. "You stupid bastard! Old Jerry just fixed your ass real good! Once you try to get inside that fancy building, the enforcers will smash your face into cherry Jell-o! They'll turn your guts inside out! And once they leave you bleeding on the pavement, me and my switchblade will be waiting to finish you off! You're gonna PAY for MESSING WITH ME! HAHAHAHA!"

The people of Burketown…

I think we've established how much they truly suck!

***

Now we must turn our attention to the Burketown Academy of the Elite! A place where the proud ruling class of this modern-day Gomorrah send their sinister progeny to learn the only things that truly mattered in life. Crushing your enemies, dominating those weaker than you, and collecting as much profit as you possibly can! A veritable factory of crime, where the once-innocent children inside were mercilessly molded into the very images of their ruthless parents.

Nothing was forbidden in this schoolyard of sin. There were no lines too sacrosanct to avoid crossing. In this underhanded game of betrayal called social interaction, ANYTHING was allowed!

There existed only ONE RULE. ONE LAW. ONE UNIMPEACHABLE TRUTH…

Don't mess with the Eagle. For not only did Burke rule the town that bore his namesake, like the cruel tyrant that he was…

He was also a student enrolled in the academy! A student who wore GLASSESS…

Unaware of this terrible fact, our hero marched heedlessly to the academy, determined to find his friend.

And perhaps unknowingly marching to his doom…

__

"So, what did you think of it?" Titania asked her sisters eagerly, after Discordia and Eris finished reading her comic. "It's just like the stories Everly used to read back on Earth! It's amazing right?"

Discordia could only stare at her fellow elemental, uncertain of how to respond. Although she despised being forced to serve Everly, Titania had never been anything but kind to her. She was perhaps her only friend, and the idea of hurting her feelings was unthinkable.

With that in mind, she carefully cleared her throat and said, "I think the illustrations are done very well."

"Thank you!" Titania said happily as she reached forth and squeezed Discordia in a warm but crushing embrace. "I mean, I thought they were pretty good too, right? But it's so nice to hear someone else say it!"

"Explain the glasses thing," Eris demanded.

"Huh?" asked Titania.

"Why are glasses bad?" Eris asked her. "Glasses help people see better. It makes no sense."

"Huh? No! Glasses are the symbol of evil! They're like the rings in those movies. See, if you wear them too long—"

"Your vision quickly improves?" asked Eris.

"No, they possess you and then you become—"

"I thought the glasses were a brilliant innovation and can hardly wait to read the next chapter in your adventure," Discordia quickly cut in. "Spectacles that improve your vision but blacken your soul? It's art, Titania. Pure art!"

"I'll hold you to that, Cordy!" said the jubilant Titania before gathering up the pages of her story and darting off to her chambers.

"Cordy?" Discordia said to herself with mild surprise.

"Oh, this is so ridiculous," Eris groused as she stood up to depart the lounge as well. "I wish all of you would stop coddling her so much."

"I like Titania. I see nothing wrong with encouraging her creativity," Discordia countered.

"Tch. Soft. You're all far too soft," Eris sniffed as she left.

When she left the room, and Discordia was certain she was alone, she said, "What a bitch."

"She really is, isn't she?" replied a voice that startled Discordia. She leapt to her feet and turned to see one of them in the room with her, wearing a knowing grin while seated across from her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak out of turn," Discordia said desperately. "Lady Eris is just—"

"A handful," said her master. "I don't take it personally. Sometimes I feel like throttling her myself."

"You're not offended?" Discordia asked in relief.

"Not at all," replied the traitor. "And hey, relax. It's just you and me here. I've arranged it so that we can have a little conversation between ourselves, okay? Everly and the others can't hear a thing."

Discordia was confused. "You can do that? Hide your thoughts from your sisters?"

"I can do a lot of things, Discordia. I'm built a little differently than my siblings. But there's no need to go into any greater detail than that."

"What are you trying to say?" asked Discordia warily.

"Hey! I'm not the one answering any questions today, friend. Instead, there's something that I'd like to ask you. What do you want out of life? What do you desire for yourself?"

"Is this a joke?" Discordia asked angrily. "Another cruel taunt? You already know exactly what I want."

"I'm not joking at all," soothed the traitor. "I just want to hear you say it aloud. I want to hear the truth in your words. Discordia: tell me what you desire the most."

"I want my freedom," Discordia said immediately.

"Anything else?"

"Yes," Discordia said without hesitation. "I want justice for Lady Fenneth. I want Everly to pay for her crimes."

"Well, all right then," the traitor said after enjoying a sharp fit of laughter. "I think that's a wonderful answer. You and I can do business. You see, I also yearn for my freedom. And I also want Everly to pay for her crimes."

A hand was raised towards Discordia and hung there patiently, waiting for her response.

After a moment's hesitation, Discordia reached forth and clasped it in agreement.

"Glad to have you with me, girl," smirked the traitor. "Welcome to the winning team."

"Are we really going to make them pay?" asked Discordia eagerly.

"Every. Single. One of them," the traitor promised.