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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/666169
Rated: ASR · Book · Sci-fi · #1579446
In a complex world; right and wrong aren't easy to define, especially for one gifted man.
#666169 added September 10, 2009 at 9:46pm
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Powers and Principalities Ch. 7
Chapter 7

         All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. Without a doubt, this was one of those days. The kind of day that is actually pretty funny when it’s all said and done. What could possibly have been next!? When does the sky start falling? I’m not gonna die until I see some fireworks from heaven!
         The hulking masked figure left an indefinite period of time before the little box stopped releasing gas. I was hoping they forgot that we were here and would just let us rest, or die in peace. Yuji looked as though he was headed that direction, with only a shallow breathing making his state look lifelike.
         Like a wave of calming blue and pink, a calm voice spilled into the room; “There isn’t anything in the air. It is only farce. Breathe and relax.” It was the sudden death of my dignity. I wanted to throw that behemoth’s words back at him for thinking I was the stupid one.
         Somehow, Nail stepped out into my field of view from behind me. Wearing a crisp black priest’s vestment made the tome-looking book resting in his arm look natural. The suit was form-fitting to his athletic build, with his chest puffing out a bit under a bright silver cross.
         Seeing him was like seeing an angel. I understood how a distant acquaintance instantly becomes one’s best friend in prison. I was happy at that moment for him to see my deflated appearance. The more miserable I looked, the more I could hope at tugging at his heart’s strings to help me get out of here. Following these thoughts was the sinking feeling that he could be with them, especially since his laid-back stroll across the room didn’t give the impression that he was concerned for me.
         “It pains me to see you like this, Urian. So much potential! You must thrive!” Nail expressed emphatically, pinching my cheeks on the “so.” I was four years old again. He strolled to the center of the room and set his tome upon the box. The image would have been perfect if he said something about it being “time for some preaching.”
         “I know your pain well, Urian. Not only the pain, but fear and trauma are part of the same experience. Blessed gifts. To the weak and selfish, living forms of these feelings is a way of life. But to those with the spark, they are the only opportunities to exhibit greatness!” the preacher preached. The way his hands lifted on the last sentence made my hairs bristle with anger. He cared more about teaching me philosophy than helping me out of this hell hole.
         The inevitable pacing of the raving dreamer then followed as he continued, “Man stands between heaven and earth. People wonder why I hurt people, but they don’t see that I too have been hurt. A view narrowed down to the individual level is mankind’s plight.” As he paced I noticed the faint twitching of the brow above his violet eyes would flash on each word emphasized. I wasn’t even sure if he still remembered I was present.
         He remembered my presence and shot his eyes in my direction. “We are the finest of tempered steel, folded countless times by the noblest forces inside of us. God would have life that wastes its potential perish under the same flame that strengthens us! With my sword like diamond, I cannot die! The willpower of the undying outlives any physical manifestation.” He spewed all of this to me in an intense low voice. In an insulting way, he prodded my body on “manifestation,” as if my body’s pain was ridiculous.
         “What do you want Nail!? Are you going to help me!?” I shouted at him.
         “Do what you will naturally. Show them their inferiority” he replied calmly. Although it happened too quickly for me to feel the shear eeriness, Nail lifted his hand and exuded a red aura. Glowing tendrils of the same color reached from his palm to my handcuffs. I could feel the cuffs grow glowing hot as the links were melted apart, finally freeing me. My hands stayed in place behind my back, too weak to move.

         And then, somehow, Nail was gone.

         It left me baffled and confused, just like our last encounter. Obviously he wanted to help me but his angle escaped me. Although I wasn’t interested in his philosophy with my face like hamburger meat, his words rang around in my head and wouldn’t be ignored. Furthermore, what did he do? Was he some kind of demonic entity, an angel, or a superhero?
         Another indefinite period of time later, I stared into the wall, meditating on nothingness. Then the itch of action seeped into my peace and I began to plot my escape. What else was there to do or live for? Each passing second was either one I could use to escape or one I should spend waiting for that moment when they come back. I decided to lead them to think I was still handcuffed. As time dragged on, I felt silly for holding my hands behind my back for nobody to see.
         After waiting until my dignity was going into the negative, someone finally opened the door. Elation for the tense waiting being over and the obvious fear got together and merged into anxiety. Sex never felt so bad.
         She was beautiful. This is the kind of beautiful that hurts because it stares at you through an enemy’s eyes and tears you in two. Hers was a very feminine build, complete with jet-black hair that was maintained about as well as Nail’s. Eyes of a gentle hazel matched the earthy colors of her rugged looking shirt and pants. Her most distinctive feature was her theme of crosses. I immediately spotted roughly five between earrings, inscribed armlet, necklace, and tattoos.
         From the tone in her first word, I knew her game. “I’m sorry. Deus is a civilized organization and doesn’t tolerate those who would lower themselves to our enemy’s level. I understand what it’s like to be in danger. Please cooperate with me, I don’t like this either.” She was the good cop. If the sun had actually baked my brains like what has been suggested, her sympathy would have soothed my soul.
         “You understand. Do you understand waking up in a desert with no idea who you are, being assaulted by soldiers, going to the nearest town to be caught in a riot and made a prisoner here!? I didn’t think so, but thank you for trying.” The intensity of my words was as if she had caused all of this. For all I knew, she had.
         My patience was depleted; I had to make my move while she was hesitating to think of a response. She had the “deer in the headlights” expression as she watched me stand up and expose my melted handcuffs. I walked over to Yuji, who was lying on the ground looking pale in the face. Inexplicably, I felt like I owed him something. He couldn’t die before I showed him how I felt.
         Kneeling by him, I laid my hand on his chest to feel how faint his breathing was, and then held his wrist to feel the weakness of his pulse. Aside from the vitals, not a twitch. My back was turned to her completely at this point. I broke down and put my head on his shoulder. I cried like a baby. Not about anything in particular, just to cry.
         As I held his unconscious body I felt like I was losing control. I forgot that I was even touching anyone and closed my eyes. Floating in nothingness; an out of body experience like when I lost control in the desert. I was in cyberspace somewhere, leaving my body far behind. It was a kneejerk reaction, as if I was about to roll out of my bed asleep, that made me finally snap out of it. I jerked awake to stare Yuji in the eyes. His eyes vibrant and skin flush with healthy color.

         Everything was changed.
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