[ There is no video. There is no voice. There is just the presense of thought. Continuous, seemingly endless, and it completely inundates you...overtakes you, an explosion of doubt and guilt, loneliness and confusion all combined into one. ]
Slithering, sliitheering, sliiitheeering, across your skin one hundred black legs, in sin, inside. Or
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[ Not that the gun in his hand isn't enough of a warning for her...the barrel aimed directly at the Forge. ]
What would you know.
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What if someone had talked to Warren? Before he---
(it wouldn't have mattered)
---before everything collapsed upon itself, because wasn't that what this is, a collapsing? This feeling? This crushing (disappointment?) thing.
Maybe. Maybe not.]
More than people think I do.
[But not enough to stay silent. Mostly because she does not remember any of the previous horror.]
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[ A beat. His gun shifts to the side, away from the camera...his leather gloves creaking as they fidget, flex at the trigger, and then relax again. ]
You have no idea where Mother is...and neither do I.
I'm...a failure to Her.
[ A bad son. ]
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Not that I know exactly what you are. Except that she's not capable of being a mother.
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[ Bad son or not, she is still his Mother! He refuses to believe anything else. ]
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...I was separated from Mother, and when I was given a chance to be reunited?
[ He messed everything up. ]
[ Zack killed him. ]
[ And then Mother was gone, what little of Her he'd had, and he was left with nothing. ]
I have...continuously let Her down. Time and time again. It is not Her fault that I am not a good son.
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