[Original fiction] Ashes of the Last Blaze of Glory
Title: Ashes of the Last Blaze of Glory
Prompt: 28. a tinker's damn
Fandom: Original
Rating: R for disturbing thoughts
Summary: He hadn't thought he would live. He hadn't meant to live. And now he had to live (if you could call it that) in a world of his own making that he had no desire to see.
A/N: A tinker's damn is something insignificant or worthless.
Posted to 31_days_exchnge for bane_6
I usually hate putting big explanatory notes on original stories, because the story should speak for itself. But in this case, since it's a character introspect, I really couldn't have Ketsu explain certain things without it sounding really weird, because it's stuff he already knows and wouldn't need to tell himself. So bare with me a moment.
CEBA - Cybernetically Enhanced Battle Armor. Usually about 4-5 meters (12-16 feet) tall, longer explanation at the end of the fic.
~*~
Quietly, Ketsueki stared out the window, watching but not really seeing the street outside. There wasn't anything to see anyway, this part of the city had been pretty torn apart by the war, and rather than trying to repair the tumbling buildings right away the government had simply cordoned off the area and declared it low priority in favor of repairing other, more heavily populated areas.
Rather convenient for them, wasn't it?
It gave them a place to dispose of things that they'd rather forget they had. Things like him.
The door creaked behind him and he spun, reaching for a gun that wasn't there. He'd moved too fast, before his mind had quite caught up with long ingrained instincts, and he snarled a curse as he was thrown off balance (again!) by the empty sleeve at his side. His remaining hand shot out, catching the window frame to keep him from taking an ungraceful tumble onto the floor, and he glared at the young woman standing in the doorway.
Her eyes widened at his glare, and she squeaked like a startled rabbit, the tray in her hands rattling slightly. Ketsueki snarled and pulled himself upright again, stalking toward her. She gave a little terrified wail, dropping the tray onto the table beside the door and fleeing, but not before he heard the lock on the door click back into place.
He snorted. Pathetic. They couldn't even send him a proper nurse, just rabbits and lambs who shook at the slightest hint of a snarl and whimpered sympathetically at the stump of his severed arm. Pathetic. Though he supposed he should be grateful, terrorizing them was the only entertainment he had left. He'd give this one three days, at the most, before he'd terrified her into fleeing, just like all the others.
Was he really so scary? He supposed so. He tried to be. He'd been scary once upon a time, he thought. But then, he'd been a proud warrior, a knight, someone who could fight with honor, not the bitter, twisted shell of a man he was now. Perhaps that was what terrified all the nurses the government sent, the darkness in his eyes. Then again, one of the nurses had blithely mentioned that the government had 'warned' her that he was dangerous, so he supposed that was part of it too. And he was dangerous, he knew a dozen different ways to kill a person, but most of them required the use of some sort of weapon, or at least two working arms. Though that was probably why he was never allowed near anything even remotely pointed. And a gun would be out of the question, of course.
He ignored the tray of half-cooked food, turning instead to return to his place by the window. What did it matter whether he ate or not? Though he knew he would, eventually. Somewhere deep in his soul he was still that noble knight he had once been, too noble to kill himself. Even if he had somehow gotten his hands on a knife, he honestly didn't know what he'd do with it. Hold the nurse hostage and demand to be let free? And where would he go then? He was legally dead, and everyone he'd ever known was dead. Nearly everyone in the world who'd watched the news in the last five years knew his face, or at least how he'd used to look before two years of imprisonment and bitter regret had turned him haggard.
No. If he'd ever managed to get his hands on a knife or a gun, he'd head straight for the city's central headquarters and kill as many goddamned government officials as he could. He didn't know who had ordered him kept alive, and he didn't know who had ordered him imprisoned here. Hell, he didn't even know if anyone in the government remembered he was even here (though presumably so, since the nurses kept coming). But he would kill them anyway, kill them for what they'd made him do, what they'd made his Commander out to be. And they would kill him for it, a proper warrior's death like he was supposed to have all along.
He even knew how they would spin it. There'd be no mention of his real name, just a 'terrorist attack' and 'quickly subdued' and 'no need to worry'. And then he'd be dumped into an unmarked grave, or if he was lucky, cremated. They couldn't very well bury him under his name now, could they? Not when that name was already etched on a marble marker at the veterans' cemetery downtown, graffiti splashed and sneered at as the grave of a villain.
Ketsueki closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the window glass. "If you wanted me dead, why didn't you just let me die, damnit..." He'd been supposed to die. All their plans had them going down in a blaze of glory, the way it was supposed to be. The Commander would lead the charge, and the rest of them would follow, loyal knights to the very end. The Commander had been smart, he knew exactly what they were doing. He knew they would be made out to be villains in the end, but it would bring peace. The rest of them didn't care. They didn't care about ideals or making history or the world as a whole, all they cared about was following the Commander where he led. They didn't believe in either government vying for power, they believed in him.
Ketsueki felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn't care enough to wipe it away. Who would see?
When they'd pulled him out of his twisted CEBA, he was already half dead from bloodloss and the shock of losing his arm. He didn't know why the winning government had chosen to save his life, or why they'd decided to keep him here instead of letting him die the death he'd wanted. And God, he'd wanted death so bad... Some armies fell apart after the death of their leader, but when they'd seen the Commander fall the rest of them had just pushed that much harder, frenzied by grief, until one by one they'd been cut down, falling beside their brothers in arms, beside their Commander. All except Ketsueki.
It was small consolation to know that the Commander's ploy had worked. History would name them the villains, but the world was at peace once again. But it left an awful taste in Ketsueki's mouth, like the bitter tang of blood. He hated the common people for enjoying their peace, hated them. That was the real reason he delighted so much in terrorizing the nurses sent to care for him. Why should they be allowed to live in peace, when the one they should be worshiping was villainized instead? They would never know what a magnificent, noble man the Commander really was. He had sacrificed himself so the plebeian sheep could have peace, and none of them would ever know or care about the man who gave everything so they could be free. Ketsueki hated them for that.
But in the end, it didn't matter, did it? He was trapped here, doomed to rot away in this nondescript house in the condemned section of the city, a virtual prisoner of peace. Or else he could find a way to get out and go on a suicide mission that was, nevertheless, suicide. And suicide was not what the Commander would have wanted for him.
Even dead, Ketsueki could not disobey his Commander. He just couldn't. Not when he had been the Commander's right hand, the first among his knights. He would follow the Commander with all his heart and soul, while this rot, this guilt, this bitterness ate him from the inside out. Because part of him was guilty that it had been him saved, and not the Commander. The Commander was the one who deserved to live. It was his master plan, his tactics that brought about peace. Ketsueki had only been the lieutenant.
And yet, a part of him was glad too, that the Commander was dead. At least dead, he was probably at peace, and he wouldn't have to endure this torturous half-life.
With a ragged sigh, Ketsueki finally turned away from the window, walking over to sit heavily on the narrow bed. For a moment he stared blankly at the uniform coat thrown over the back of a chair. It was the one thing he refused to let them get rid of, though nearly every nurse tried. The left sleeve was mangled and torn away, the blue cloth stained vile purple all along the left side. But it was still his. It was all he had left, the only thing he could cling to, the only bit of his dignity and nobility that still remained.
Once upon a time, he'd met a young boy when they roomed together at boarding school. They'd become fast friends, and the other had told him of his secret ambitions to enter the army and become an officer, so he could put a stop to the simmering quasi-war that had been going on for as long as anyone could remember. There had been sun that day, and warmth, and the future had looked bright as they leaned their heads together, thighs touching comfortably, fifteen-year-olds plotting world domination. The other knights had come later, gathered from various places and all intensely loyal, but none like Ketsueki. He'd been the first, he'd been by the Commander's side always.
Up until the end.
Ketsueki closed his eyes against his uniform, and rolled over to curl up on the bed and wait for tomorrow.
~*~
More on CEBAs - They're not exactly mechs, they really are more like powered armor. They're a single unit, the pilot will climb inside them and then the chest and helmet pieces will close down over him (or her, there were female CEBA pilots too). The pilot's arms and legs really do slide down into the CEBA's arms and legs, and their movements move the armor. They don't have a control panel like most traditional mechs. If you want to compare them to something in anime, CEBAs are a bit like smaller versions of the guymalefs from Vision of Escaflowne, except they run on pure technology rather than magic.
Ketsueki - That's not his real name, obviously, it's what he chooses to call himself now. 'Ketsueki' is the Japanese word for 'blood'.
Ketsu and his Commander morphed out of a pair of characters from one of my favorite anime. =) Kudos if you can figure out which one.
Prompt: 28. a tinker's damn
Fandom: Original
Rating: R for disturbing thoughts
Summary: He hadn't thought he would live. He hadn't meant to live. And now he had to live (if you could call it that) in a world of his own making that he had no desire to see.
A/N: A tinker's damn is something insignificant or worthless.
Posted to 31_days_exchnge for bane_6
I usually hate putting big explanatory notes on original stories, because the story should speak for itself. But in this case, since it's a character introspect, I really couldn't have Ketsu explain certain things without it sounding really weird, because it's stuff he already knows and wouldn't need to tell himself. So bare with me a moment.
CEBA - Cybernetically Enhanced Battle Armor. Usually about 4-5 meters (12-16 feet) tall, longer explanation at the end of the fic.
~*~
Quietly, Ketsueki stared out the window, watching but not really seeing the street outside. There wasn't anything to see anyway, this part of the city had been pretty torn apart by the war, and rather than trying to repair the tumbling buildings right away the government had simply cordoned off the area and declared it low priority in favor of repairing other, more heavily populated areas.
Rather convenient for them, wasn't it?
It gave them a place to dispose of things that they'd rather forget they had. Things like him.
The door creaked behind him and he spun, reaching for a gun that wasn't there. He'd moved too fast, before his mind had quite caught up with long ingrained instincts, and he snarled a curse as he was thrown off balance (again!) by the empty sleeve at his side. His remaining hand shot out, catching the window frame to keep him from taking an ungraceful tumble onto the floor, and he glared at the young woman standing in the doorway.
Her eyes widened at his glare, and she squeaked like a startled rabbit, the tray in her hands rattling slightly. Ketsueki snarled and pulled himself upright again, stalking toward her. She gave a little terrified wail, dropping the tray onto the table beside the door and fleeing, but not before he heard the lock on the door click back into place.
He snorted. Pathetic. They couldn't even send him a proper nurse, just rabbits and lambs who shook at the slightest hint of a snarl and whimpered sympathetically at the stump of his severed arm. Pathetic. Though he supposed he should be grateful, terrorizing them was the only entertainment he had left. He'd give this one three days, at the most, before he'd terrified her into fleeing, just like all the others.
Was he really so scary? He supposed so. He tried to be. He'd been scary once upon a time, he thought. But then, he'd been a proud warrior, a knight, someone who could fight with honor, not the bitter, twisted shell of a man he was now. Perhaps that was what terrified all the nurses the government sent, the darkness in his eyes. Then again, one of the nurses had blithely mentioned that the government had 'warned' her that he was dangerous, so he supposed that was part of it too. And he was dangerous, he knew a dozen different ways to kill a person, but most of them required the use of some sort of weapon, or at least two working arms. Though that was probably why he was never allowed near anything even remotely pointed. And a gun would be out of the question, of course.
He ignored the tray of half-cooked food, turning instead to return to his place by the window. What did it matter whether he ate or not? Though he knew he would, eventually. Somewhere deep in his soul he was still that noble knight he had once been, too noble to kill himself. Even if he had somehow gotten his hands on a knife, he honestly didn't know what he'd do with it. Hold the nurse hostage and demand to be let free? And where would he go then? He was legally dead, and everyone he'd ever known was dead. Nearly everyone in the world who'd watched the news in the last five years knew his face, or at least how he'd used to look before two years of imprisonment and bitter regret had turned him haggard.
No. If he'd ever managed to get his hands on a knife or a gun, he'd head straight for the city's central headquarters and kill as many goddamned government officials as he could. He didn't know who had ordered him kept alive, and he didn't know who had ordered him imprisoned here. Hell, he didn't even know if anyone in the government remembered he was even here (though presumably so, since the nurses kept coming). But he would kill them anyway, kill them for what they'd made him do, what they'd made his Commander out to be. And they would kill him for it, a proper warrior's death like he was supposed to have all along.
He even knew how they would spin it. There'd be no mention of his real name, just a 'terrorist attack' and 'quickly subdued' and 'no need to worry'. And then he'd be dumped into an unmarked grave, or if he was lucky, cremated. They couldn't very well bury him under his name now, could they? Not when that name was already etched on a marble marker at the veterans' cemetery downtown, graffiti splashed and sneered at as the grave of a villain.
Ketsueki closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the window glass. "If you wanted me dead, why didn't you just let me die, damnit..." He'd been supposed to die. All their plans had them going down in a blaze of glory, the way it was supposed to be. The Commander would lead the charge, and the rest of them would follow, loyal knights to the very end. The Commander had been smart, he knew exactly what they were doing. He knew they would be made out to be villains in the end, but it would bring peace. The rest of them didn't care. They didn't care about ideals or making history or the world as a whole, all they cared about was following the Commander where he led. They didn't believe in either government vying for power, they believed in him.
Ketsueki felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn't care enough to wipe it away. Who would see?
When they'd pulled him out of his twisted CEBA, he was already half dead from bloodloss and the shock of losing his arm. He didn't know why the winning government had chosen to save his life, or why they'd decided to keep him here instead of letting him die the death he'd wanted. And God, he'd wanted death so bad... Some armies fell apart after the death of their leader, but when they'd seen the Commander fall the rest of them had just pushed that much harder, frenzied by grief, until one by one they'd been cut down, falling beside their brothers in arms, beside their Commander. All except Ketsueki.
It was small consolation to know that the Commander's ploy had worked. History would name them the villains, but the world was at peace once again. But it left an awful taste in Ketsueki's mouth, like the bitter tang of blood. He hated the common people for enjoying their peace, hated them. That was the real reason he delighted so much in terrorizing the nurses sent to care for him. Why should they be allowed to live in peace, when the one they should be worshiping was villainized instead? They would never know what a magnificent, noble man the Commander really was. He had sacrificed himself so the plebeian sheep could have peace, and none of them would ever know or care about the man who gave everything so they could be free. Ketsueki hated them for that.
But in the end, it didn't matter, did it? He was trapped here, doomed to rot away in this nondescript house in the condemned section of the city, a virtual prisoner of peace. Or else he could find a way to get out and go on a suicide mission that was, nevertheless, suicide. And suicide was not what the Commander would have wanted for him.
Even dead, Ketsueki could not disobey his Commander. He just couldn't. Not when he had been the Commander's right hand, the first among his knights. He would follow the Commander with all his heart and soul, while this rot, this guilt, this bitterness ate him from the inside out. Because part of him was guilty that it had been him saved, and not the Commander. The Commander was the one who deserved to live. It was his master plan, his tactics that brought about peace. Ketsueki had only been the lieutenant.
And yet, a part of him was glad too, that the Commander was dead. At least dead, he was probably at peace, and he wouldn't have to endure this torturous half-life.
With a ragged sigh, Ketsueki finally turned away from the window, walking over to sit heavily on the narrow bed. For a moment he stared blankly at the uniform coat thrown over the back of a chair. It was the one thing he refused to let them get rid of, though nearly every nurse tried. The left sleeve was mangled and torn away, the blue cloth stained vile purple all along the left side. But it was still his. It was all he had left, the only thing he could cling to, the only bit of his dignity and nobility that still remained.
Once upon a time, he'd met a young boy when they roomed together at boarding school. They'd become fast friends, and the other had told him of his secret ambitions to enter the army and become an officer, so he could put a stop to the simmering quasi-war that had been going on for as long as anyone could remember. There had been sun that day, and warmth, and the future had looked bright as they leaned their heads together, thighs touching comfortably, fifteen-year-olds plotting world domination. The other knights had come later, gathered from various places and all intensely loyal, but none like Ketsueki. He'd been the first, he'd been by the Commander's side always.
Up until the end.
Ketsueki closed his eyes against his uniform, and rolled over to curl up on the bed and wait for tomorrow.
~*~
More on CEBAs - They're not exactly mechs, they really are more like powered armor. They're a single unit, the pilot will climb inside them and then the chest and helmet pieces will close down over him (or her, there were female CEBA pilots too). The pilot's arms and legs really do slide down into the CEBA's arms and legs, and their movements move the armor. They don't have a control panel like most traditional mechs. If you want to compare them to something in anime, CEBAs are a bit like smaller versions of the guymalefs from Vision of Escaflowne, except they run on pure technology rather than magic.
Ketsueki - That's not his real name, obviously, it's what he chooses to call himself now. 'Ketsueki' is the Japanese word for 'blood'.
Ketsu and his Commander morphed out of a pair of characters from one of my favorite anime. =) Kudos if you can figure out which one.