Darkfic Extra: The Mask (for terravayne)
Title: The Mask
Written for: terravayne
Rating: FRM, as per the FR Rating System
Warnings: Like all my fics, read at your own risk
Gift #5: A Relena and Zechs incestfic.
"Lieutenant, let's finish this within three minutes."
"One minute's all I need, Commander. This battle will end the moment I land."
Zechs fired up his suit and left the carrier. Treize and the General watched in disbelief as Zechs swiftly dispatched the rebel force, their screams filling the comm lines, their suits leaving a trail of debris leading to the mainland.
"I see," Treize clucked proudly. "It's not just talk. He fights like lightning."
One of the suits veered off from the attack and headed inland. "Trying to escape? I'll leave the rest to you, Commander. This one's mine." Zechs followed the MS across the continent, firing steadily until it went down in a flaming mass somewhere over Cinq. He had no doubt the pilot was still alive somehow. My luck today is like that. Finding the suit was no problem, as the blaze could be seen for miles. The nearest structure was a large estate-the rebel would most likely head for it, if he could still move. Zechs landed his Aries, wondering who the owner was...and whether he'd mind if Zechs blasted the property to kingdom come if needed to get that damn rebel.
"Hey! You in the suit-don't move! You move one inch, and I'll kill the Darlian girl!"
Darlian girl? So this was the Darlian estate? He should have known. Today had been a bad day from the moment he'd gotten out of bed with a headache. If this was the Darlian estate, then there was only one person that girl could be. Relena. Damn it.
"Now get outta that mobile suit!"
Zechs did as he was told; it would kill him if anything happened to his last living relative. Could this really be Relena after all these years?
"Heh...the latest model Aries! What a great souvenir!"
I'm sure. But I'm afraid today's not my day. That means it's not your day, either, Loser. In one fluid movement, Zechs raised his gun and blew a hole through the rebel's wrist, shattering it. The man collapsed on his knees, his weapon forgotten on the pavement. "I don't want to kill in front of this girl, so leave. Now."
"Fuck you, you goddamn OZ shit!"
When the terrorist had stumbled away, Zechs turned to the girl. There was no question any more. Even in the darkness enveloping them now, he knew she was his sister. A flood of memories he'd exiled to the back of his mind suddenly returned to him. Look at you. You've grown so much, Relena. He raised his hand to touch her, then remembered the gun in his hand. The gun. Soon another thought plagued his mind. That's right, Milliardo. You've no right to even touch her any more. You've abandoned the Peacecraft name...taken up weapons, and chosen the bloody path of revenge. With a sigh he put his gun away. Relena was staring at him quizzically, and he gathered himself together. "Are you all right, Princess?"
"Princess? If I'm a princess, then who are you? A knight on a terrible dragon?"
"Heh. I'm a prince of the stars." A crowd of people soon billowed forth from the house, calling to the girl. "You'd better go inside now. If you'll excuse me."
Relena turned to watch him go, still confused. A prince...of the stars...
______________________________________________
I can't see her. My last living relative, and I can't even fucking see her, damn it. But more than just a relative. They'd grown up apart, and it was hard to think of her as his sister after all this time. She'd grown into a beautiful girl.
Very beautiful.
How old was she now? Ten? Eleven? Twelve? He was ashamed of himself for not knowing. Somewhere on the threshold of adulthood. Against his better judgment he allowed himself to picture the changes happening to her young body now. Were her breasts just starting to well up under the surface? He'd love to caress them, marvel at how they grew firmer as he stroked them. Straddle her body and introduce her to the pleasures of sex. Bury his head between her thighs and lick the petals of her labia. Make her a woman. I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts. She is my sister, even if we've grown up separately. With a sigh, Zechs coaxed the Aries back into the air and headed for the carrier. Only seconds into his ascent he spotted the colonial rebel who'd taken Relena hostage earlier, heading into a clump of trees and cradling his bleeding wrist. Beyond the clump of trees two more colonists converged on a clearing in the center. A pre-arranged meeting point? Must be.
Something snapped in the warrior prince. So their ideals were so noble they could kidnap young girls in the name of their cause? He aimed his chain rifle at the two newcomers and fried them to cinders in their tracks. Their haunted expressions of terror were the last ghostly images of them seared into his subconscious as they burned to death.
There was only one left now, and he scurried into the trees at double speed. Zechs followed, the light in his eyes gone as the last flicker of the pacifist prince died out and he fully embraced the darkness that was Zechs Merquise, the wounded orphan. His eyes narrowed, fully focused, as he launched a missile pod and torched the trees. Their flaming branches lighted the rebel's retreat. In single-minded pursuit Zechs cornered the colonist against the inferno and landed the Aries. With the suit before him and the blazing wall of fire all around him, the rebel had no hope of escape.
"What the hell do you want!"
Such bravado. Well, I'll cure you of that. His gun reflected both the eerie orange firelight and the terror in the rebel's eyes in the gunmetal, and Zechs had never been more one with his weapon before. Strange how cold it felt in his hand when the rest of him felt so warm. Yes, I'll cure you of that. He squeezed the trigger and the rebel's kneecap exploded, his piercing screams temporarily drowning out the roar of the fire as he crumpled to the ground.
"God DAMN you!" A string of heated curses fell from the rebel's bleeding lips, his eyes bulging wide in disbelief as Zechs slowly aimed the gun at his elbow and fired again.
There was no emotion behind his eyes any longer; Zechs was a boy possessed. A man, a detached part of his brain argued, for today you have killed. Killed an unarmed civilian in anger. You're no better than a common criminal. The thought jolted him back to the here and now. He stared down at the pathetic pile of screaming flesh bleeding to death before him. Is there nothing left of Milliardo Peacecraft, the gentle pacifist? Nothing left here that Relena would recognize?
The fractured pieces that made up the rebel continued damning him as Zechs fought with his conscience. This was no longer a man on the ground but a collection of disjointed fragments of a living organism spread out in the dirt, its animal noises deafening. Each piece of it seemed to curse him with a different voice, but the OZ soldier heard nothing but the collapse of a tower in a burning palace and the weeping of angels. Yes, I will show you mercy. For Relena. He raised the gun one last time and blew out its brains, spraying soft tissue and bone fragments all over his pants and the grass.
For a moment, Zechs thought it was sweat bathing his cheeks, until the lump in his throat grew too uncomfortable to ignore any longer. With a last look at the grisly circle of Dante's Inferno that Alighieri had never imagined, he grabbed the lift line and climbed back into the suit standing sentinel at Hell's exit.
______________________________________________
Strange how empty it seemed. Cold, detached. Not there, like it was a mask staring back at him from the mirror. For nearly a quarter of an hour, Zechs studied the lines and planes of his reflection in the glass. How long before I can look at myself without disgust? He'd committed two mortal sins today-murdered a civilian and lusted after his own sister. Monumental sins. What would his parents think of him if they were still alive?
And yet, there was nothing unusual in the glass. No mark of Cain, nothing to indicate he was a sinner. A killer. An incestuous mental case. The face glaring back at him in the mirror was one he'd seen a thousand times, yet one he'd never seen before. Which was more revolting-the fact that he'd never known himself at all, or the discovery that he could sin so monstrously without a single visible change? He couldn't decide. My face is like a mask. Does my surface reflect no soul within, or is my soul so black it reflects nothing on the surface?
The only thing he knew for certain was that he couldn't bear to look at himself ever again.
Written for: terravayne
Rating: FRM, as per the FR Rating System
Warnings: Like all my fics, read at your own risk
Gift #5: A Relena and Zechs incestfic.
"Lieutenant, let's finish this within three minutes."
"One minute's all I need, Commander. This battle will end the moment I land."
Zechs fired up his suit and left the carrier. Treize and the General watched in disbelief as Zechs swiftly dispatched the rebel force, their screams filling the comm lines, their suits leaving a trail of debris leading to the mainland.
"I see," Treize clucked proudly. "It's not just talk. He fights like lightning."
One of the suits veered off from the attack and headed inland. "Trying to escape? I'll leave the rest to you, Commander. This one's mine." Zechs followed the MS across the continent, firing steadily until it went down in a flaming mass somewhere over Cinq. He had no doubt the pilot was still alive somehow. My luck today is like that. Finding the suit was no problem, as the blaze could be seen for miles. The nearest structure was a large estate-the rebel would most likely head for it, if he could still move. Zechs landed his Aries, wondering who the owner was...and whether he'd mind if Zechs blasted the property to kingdom come if needed to get that damn rebel.
"Hey! You in the suit-don't move! You move one inch, and I'll kill the Darlian girl!"
Darlian girl? So this was the Darlian estate? He should have known. Today had been a bad day from the moment he'd gotten out of bed with a headache. If this was the Darlian estate, then there was only one person that girl could be. Relena. Damn it.
"Now get outta that mobile suit!"
Zechs did as he was told; it would kill him if anything happened to his last living relative. Could this really be Relena after all these years?
"Heh...the latest model Aries! What a great souvenir!"
I'm sure. But I'm afraid today's not my day. That means it's not your day, either, Loser. In one fluid movement, Zechs raised his gun and blew a hole through the rebel's wrist, shattering it. The man collapsed on his knees, his weapon forgotten on the pavement. "I don't want to kill in front of this girl, so leave. Now."
"Fuck you, you goddamn OZ shit!"
When the terrorist had stumbled away, Zechs turned to the girl. There was no question any more. Even in the darkness enveloping them now, he knew she was his sister. A flood of memories he'd exiled to the back of his mind suddenly returned to him. Look at you. You've grown so much, Relena. He raised his hand to touch her, then remembered the gun in his hand. The gun. Soon another thought plagued his mind. That's right, Milliardo. You've no right to even touch her any more. You've abandoned the Peacecraft name...taken up weapons, and chosen the bloody path of revenge. With a sigh he put his gun away. Relena was staring at him quizzically, and he gathered himself together. "Are you all right, Princess?"
"Princess? If I'm a princess, then who are you? A knight on a terrible dragon?"
"Heh. I'm a prince of the stars." A crowd of people soon billowed forth from the house, calling to the girl. "You'd better go inside now. If you'll excuse me."
Relena turned to watch him go, still confused. A prince...of the stars...
______________________________________________
I can't see her. My last living relative, and I can't even fucking see her, damn it. But more than just a relative. They'd grown up apart, and it was hard to think of her as his sister after all this time. She'd grown into a beautiful girl.
Very beautiful.
How old was she now? Ten? Eleven? Twelve? He was ashamed of himself for not knowing. Somewhere on the threshold of adulthood. Against his better judgment he allowed himself to picture the changes happening to her young body now. Were her breasts just starting to well up under the surface? He'd love to caress them, marvel at how they grew firmer as he stroked them. Straddle her body and introduce her to the pleasures of sex. Bury his head between her thighs and lick the petals of her labia. Make her a woman. I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts. She is my sister, even if we've grown up separately. With a sigh, Zechs coaxed the Aries back into the air and headed for the carrier. Only seconds into his ascent he spotted the colonial rebel who'd taken Relena hostage earlier, heading into a clump of trees and cradling his bleeding wrist. Beyond the clump of trees two more colonists converged on a clearing in the center. A pre-arranged meeting point? Must be.
Something snapped in the warrior prince. So their ideals were so noble they could kidnap young girls in the name of their cause? He aimed his chain rifle at the two newcomers and fried them to cinders in their tracks. Their haunted expressions of terror were the last ghostly images of them seared into his subconscious as they burned to death.
There was only one left now, and he scurried into the trees at double speed. Zechs followed, the light in his eyes gone as the last flicker of the pacifist prince died out and he fully embraced the darkness that was Zechs Merquise, the wounded orphan. His eyes narrowed, fully focused, as he launched a missile pod and torched the trees. Their flaming branches lighted the rebel's retreat. In single-minded pursuit Zechs cornered the colonist against the inferno and landed the Aries. With the suit before him and the blazing wall of fire all around him, the rebel had no hope of escape.
"What the hell do you want!"
Such bravado. Well, I'll cure you of that. His gun reflected both the eerie orange firelight and the terror in the rebel's eyes in the gunmetal, and Zechs had never been more one with his weapon before. Strange how cold it felt in his hand when the rest of him felt so warm. Yes, I'll cure you of that. He squeezed the trigger and the rebel's kneecap exploded, his piercing screams temporarily drowning out the roar of the fire as he crumpled to the ground.
"God DAMN you!" A string of heated curses fell from the rebel's bleeding lips, his eyes bulging wide in disbelief as Zechs slowly aimed the gun at his elbow and fired again.
There was no emotion behind his eyes any longer; Zechs was a boy possessed. A man, a detached part of his brain argued, for today you have killed. Killed an unarmed civilian in anger. You're no better than a common criminal. The thought jolted him back to the here and now. He stared down at the pathetic pile of screaming flesh bleeding to death before him. Is there nothing left of Milliardo Peacecraft, the gentle pacifist? Nothing left here that Relena would recognize?
The fractured pieces that made up the rebel continued damning him as Zechs fought with his conscience. This was no longer a man on the ground but a collection of disjointed fragments of a living organism spread out in the dirt, its animal noises deafening. Each piece of it seemed to curse him with a different voice, but the OZ soldier heard nothing but the collapse of a tower in a burning palace and the weeping of angels. Yes, I will show you mercy. For Relena. He raised the gun one last time and blew out its brains, spraying soft tissue and bone fragments all over his pants and the grass.
For a moment, Zechs thought it was sweat bathing his cheeks, until the lump in his throat grew too uncomfortable to ignore any longer. With a last look at the grisly circle of Dante's Inferno that Alighieri had never imagined, he grabbed the lift line and climbed back into the suit standing sentinel at Hell's exit.
______________________________________________
Strange how empty it seemed. Cold, detached. Not there, like it was a mask staring back at him from the mirror. For nearly a quarter of an hour, Zechs studied the lines and planes of his reflection in the glass. How long before I can look at myself without disgust? He'd committed two mortal sins today-murdered a civilian and lusted after his own sister. Monumental sins. What would his parents think of him if they were still alive?
And yet, there was nothing unusual in the glass. No mark of Cain, nothing to indicate he was a sinner. A killer. An incestuous mental case. The face glaring back at him in the mirror was one he'd seen a thousand times, yet one he'd never seen before. Which was more revolting-the fact that he'd never known himself at all, or the discovery that he could sin so monstrously without a single visible change? He couldn't decide. My face is like a mask. Does my surface reflect no soul within, or is my soul so black it reflects nothing on the surface?
The only thing he knew for certain was that he couldn't bear to look at himself ever again.