Black Sunday... The End of Vengeance
http://gaernin.aswwc.net/~archetype/...old/sunday.mp3
--
Brendan sat down heavily upon his cot, his gun slipping from his hands and slamming down upon the cement floor. Various pieces fell from the gun, as the gun reflected it's age.
Brendan glanced over at the cabinet, the one cabinet he had... and knew of the old Earth whiskey he had stashed away. He didn't drink anymore, but he kept a bottle, as a reminder. As a staple to hold his abstinence.
He walked over to the cabinet, and pulled out the bottle, which still had its wax seal around the cap. He snapped the wax with his hands and opened the bottle, the pungent smell of alcohol assaulting him. His heart repulsed, but his mouth watered.
He made his decision the late night before.
Dissention... the lost trust of a dear friend... the absence of the one who filled the holes in his heart... he'd thought long and hard about what to do.
He fought a war for the people, but the people didn't support him. His men died, he faced death everyday for people who spit upon his cause.
His love, a secret love, was nowhere to be seen. Almost like she didn't exist anymore. He couldn't handle knowing that he couldn't protect someone who didn't want to be protected, who was so independent she wouldn't hear of his defense. She may have been able to talk him out of this...
He shook his head to clear it of her. His mind was set, besides, she would be better off.
Brendan started to cry, his hands wringing the still-untouched bottle, thinking of the love he had lost, the friends who had betrayed him or otherwise had wronged him, his hopeless position.
He opened his backpack, and withdrew a package of pills... she had told him they were the "good stuff." Illegal. The stuff you used when you knew you were dying, or close to... or wanted to die.
He took all of the pills in his metallic hand, his right hand with the nanoport built into the palm. He started at them, green and livid. Livid with relief.
He closed them in his fist and started typing into his modified NCU special commands for his now 91% robotic body.
>>Archetype101 all POST systems online.
>>Connection to cerebellum...... enabled. (comsys.arc)
>>Hydraulics online. (hydrau.arc)
>>Cooling system online. (cool.arc)
>>Shielding online. (shldng.arc)
>>Self-preservation system online. (lifeline.arc)
>>Notum nutrient system online. (notumfd.arc)
>>Artificial Defense Network enabling.... failed. (ERROR= Hardware not found!)
>>Targeting System online. (tar.arc)
>>Command syntax ready. (comtax.arc)
>>Welcome, Administrator.
>>Enter command.
>>
Brendan typed softly, coldly... slowly... a command.
>>//disable lifeline.arc
>>Are you sure? This will disable automated self-preservation!
>>Yes/No
Brendan sobbed, and typed three letters.
>>yes
>>Self-Preservation System deactivated.
>>Enter command.
>>
Brendan looked into his palm and saw the pills, the "good stuff"... and he put them all in his mouth. He chewed them, tasting the bitter medicine inside of them... swallowing the concoction to make sure no one would raise him from the dead this time.
He glanced over at the table. A note, he had left. Good.
He took a swig of the old Earth whiskey, feeling the fire go down into his belly again... for the last time. He kept drinking, and drinking, and drinking... until the bottle was gone. He dropped the bottle on the floor, the bottle clinking hollowly on the cement.
...
"Daddy, how come those men came over angry?"
"They want me to do something bad, honey."
"What, Daddy?"
"They want me to make people leave their homes."
...
"Daddy! Daddy!!"
Brendan's eyes pulsed open wider as the swath of blood flowed from his small daughter's throat, over the calloused hands of a grinning assassin. In another assassin's hand was an Omni-Tek application form.
She gasped convulsively, the color gone from her face... her one small arm outstretched for her father, so he could save her, make the pain go away.
He couldn't reach her.
...
Boots landing in the notum-rich dust, before a sign that said B REALIS, --> 5.3 km
...
A tall, dark haired, pale woman grabbing his head and showing him an atrocity... a burning building... and screams...
...
Brendan's breath became short in his unconscious state...
...
The grinning face of the murderer of his daughter drop into fear as Brendan "Killchain" Nygaard opened fire upon him, making his body jerk violently with a wet thump.
...
A poisoned knife sliding into his side, and a horrendous scream... but he still rises to fight, yanking the knife from his side and seeing in his blurred vision a man wearing black with blue hair, and the same tall, dark haired woman...
...
And shorter...
...
A smooth cut along a young girl's back, and his skilled hands stitching the wound shut.
...
A daydream in his head, of saving that girl... of helping her to stop hurting.
...
A teddy bear with a letter inside, pressed into her hand.
...
...and with a peaceful sigh, Brendan "Killchain" Nygaard was no more.
...
R-
Please, don't cry. Please don't see this as a bad thing, see it as a release. I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't even be me... and I would have only hurt you. It's a blessing I did this now, so you can move on, be stronger. So you can find a real man who won't end up not coming home after a sortie, who isn't moody and who doesn't drag the baggage of a murdered family.
I wasn't even human when I wrote this. I was an unstable cyborg who for all effects and purposes was just that - a cyborg with a brain from a dead man.
I fought, and fought... and I finally defeated the loss of my wife for you.
I love you, more than I think you will ever know. My daughter and I will watch over you... and try to keep you as safe as we can.
This is not your fault. Don't you think for one moment that this is your fault.
Please... please... just know I love you. I had to do this. I had to go. I couldn't live like this. Please forgive me. Please.
--Bren
...
The rain started to drizzle, and then pour down the one windowpane his livinguarters had, bluuring and marring his image until he was undiscernable. The lightning struck, and thunder roared.
As if the Gods themselves cried furiously for the the death of one of the last true heroes.
