Vann

         The rolling clouds meandered across a warm blue sky. The three wayward interlopers knelt each aside another in the shallow ocean waters. The sea was clear and bright allowing the rays of the sun to reach the white sands underneath the mellow waves. Schools of fish looped around one of many tiny rock islands where foamy specks were launched briefly to the air. The trio observed in silence the narrow beach shoal and the steep mountainous elevation shortly past. Perhaps more on their mind was the stoic-faced man watching by a rickety makeshift pier. Despite the distance they could make out an eerie light blue reflection under his thick brows. The same color set the tone of that silky shoulder length hair and frock coat set over a white collared shirt.

         Beside this gentlemen seemed to be a deranged beast crawling on human-like hands and knees. Its facial features were masked by unending haphazard follicles, its throat encircled with a metal collar latched to a long series of chain. The silver links of this leash found their end to a bolted plaque installed on the granite wall. Needless to say this sight caused due curiosity on the friends who remained planted a good ten yards from the shoreline.

         Yamoto between his last living companions, Orca and Miranda, commissioned the final reserve of energy to rise in his bulky silver armor. The man’s face was once a display of strong and intelligent features. Now it had been carved and bruised making it near unrecognizable as a human.  He wobbled and almost fell over on the bright-haired woman, Orca ,who had risen with him and held a caring arm around his elbow. Neither then noticed the approach of the light god. Miranda, however, with her heightened senses, alerted them using a quick word.

         Here the one with the Victorian coat confronted the party unaffected that his fine boots were emerged in the water. This man, Frederick Vanhorne, kept his hands intertwined behind his back and stood straight and proper. He seemed to take in the aroma of salt and enjoy the presence of the seagulls and their distinct cries. He locked eyes briefly with the sun. Indeed, the warmth of summer invigorated even the near-dead cunning who would surely die there by his true enemy.

         “I must admit,” said Frederick, “I did not expect us to meet. You’ve been busy.”

         Orca and Miranda were both supporting Yamoto who rested his lumbering arms over the tops of their backs. His vacant glare and permanent frown suggested a sorrow, yet he did not allow a tear to fall, even amidst such recent tragedies such as the death of his sister-- the final tie of family.

         “Well,” continued the light god, “you’ve brought a ‘gate’ member and a defected divine. Do not look at me like that, Orca; I am not altogether as bad as you suppose.”

         “Be quiet,” snapped the woman who had been addressed, using her free hand to press close a tear in her silk blouse. A gust of heated wind swept past. “You know what you’ve done. Not just ruining Yamoto’s life. No you’re guilty of so much more.”

         “Guilty? This is interesting. If you allow yourself to see beyond your narrow personal anecdotes and think rather more mechanically you’ll see logic at every turn. I am, you may suppose, the governor of the universe and rightfully cannot be concerned with matters at an individual level. Flaws in the system were not my design; the natural flow of things is that hundreds of thousands might die at a single ill turn in the weather. Do you then go on a bloodthirsty quest with a vendetta against an earthquake that has since vanished?

         “Criticism is wholly welcome used in its rightful channels but ultimately I decide what my goal for humanity is. That is a perk of dedicating my entire existence to the maintenance of the system that is both dehumanizing and miserable. I cannot construct a utopia; no one might wipe away the horrible aspects of living as a sentient organism. That is simply a factor that must be incorporated into the fabric of the universe. Now then allow me to lecture you on what you already know but refuse to accept.

         “Yamoto Chigun is more than the remnant of a cursed man. He is a threat. This is not about the man before me or his family; I am sure if left alone he, his father and sister would have lived their lives as per normal and that would have been the end of it. Yet inevitably the lineage would continue through the coming millennia until, eventually, one would learn something they should not or would manifest some new power even I cannot foresee. I am frank in saying a cunning is the only thing capable of harming me according to the memories of my father.

         “I have indirect charge of over one-hundred billion lives and you suppose I should allow this blaring contingency to persist? You cling to emotions of a man you know; I understand and see how you might have a clouded view of the overall picture. The truth is Yamoto’s fallen kin have had their souls destroyed. What does this mean? They feel nothing. Perhaps you’ve figured out that there is no ‘heaven’ but only a place that fails to facilitate such a paradise. Humans will forever be humans. This fate for them is the best possible outcome that reality affords.

         “See there, that woman bound by the chain, slobbering and howling even now? She is my daughter. An experiment to see the result of having a child turned up a monster. You suppose I do not understand base emotions? Many times I have shed tears for the beast that I imagined could have been a strong son to lead by my side. I’ve concluded after much consideration that I was designed this way. I’m unable to have sane offspring of my own. I can only create hollow puppets to dance to some meaningless tune.

         “Truth is I am an extension of the Creation Machine that existed before time began. I’m fated to be a mere cog in the twisting gears, a master computer. I was given sentience and allowed opinions only because it serves the Machine better than an automated network. Beyond this I am nothing; never given the purpose to matter and being I’ve been left to create my own. How can you say ‘this is right’ or ‘that is wrong’? Who are you to judge my methods—you who have lived such short lives?”

         Lowering his head a degree the battered Yamoto let out a shaky sigh. His companions were no longer able to support the lug as he cascaded forward to his knees in the likeness of bowing before a superior. Vanhorne was even fooled as he allowed himself a brief and sly grin. Then Yamoto began to raise again, his body convulsing in short tremors, yellowing teeth gnashing together as he showered a bloodshot glower to the towering deity.

         “I do not recognize you as god!”

         This one sentence mixed with an aggressive pounce by the cunning proved enough to set Frederick into motion. Drawing one leg back and lowering his stance the latter thrust an arm forward with the middle and index finger extended. Yamoto appeared to freeze in place for a fraction of a second before launching through the air with a pained cry. An arc of the crystal waters followed behind his path all the way to his rough landing many meters away. Orca set off immediately to tend to the man, yet Miranda froze in place. She didn’t seem to notice the dark hair half obscuring her own deep-set orbits or the amicable look the light god afforded her once the two were more-or-less alone. Frederick came to the woman in even strides at one and a half head lengths above and placed a hand over her shoulder. Miranda flinched but made no effort to get away.

         “Leave her,” shot Orca who had seen the silent exchange.

         “You see the error in leaving my army now, do you not?” whispered Frederick into the benumbed ear.

         “No,” screamed Miranda, who came to her senses in time enough to stumble back and retreat to her allies.

         “I’ll be. You are all set on this thing, then. Yet, you realize there is no leaving this place. I have disabled escape from Neutral. Listen! It doesn’t have to be as unpleasant as all of this. I will wind up killing Yamoto, but he still has the freedom of some choice…”

***

         The two formerly sprightly women took their places in rickety seats in a library setting. A great many volumes surrounded both in shelved walls and aisles, but even the most invigorating read could not hold the attention of the prisoners. Orca and Miranda still wore the wrinkled and dirty clothes they arrived in and were allowed to visit Yamoto only once per Earth week. The man needed the rest to mend his wounds for the quest that lie ahead. A quest to confront and kill one Pluto in exchange for the women’s continued lives. Neither appreciated being used as a ransom and more than once contemplated measures altogether drastic. In the end they simply waited in silence.

         The yellow pupils of Orca on one occasion caught a cockroach cutting over the bare table. She tightened her lips and, thinking no more of it, flicked the ugly thing away. Before it landed that bug transformed—expanding and transmuting in form and color until becoming a man grown. His bare feet perched over the woodwork and a muscular arm supported his odd position. He looked altogether pale and sickly. The nakedness fled as a reddish grey shirt and jeans magically attached themselves from nowhere. He pulled back jet-black hair and let the three scars across his cheek show.

         “Coner,” Orca and Miranda said as they both rose.

         The one thus named stood and allowed himself a few cautious steps closer to the table.

         “You died,” Orca murmured.

         “Feigned death.”

         “Why?”

         “I needed Frederick to think I had died so I could perform a sneak attack if necessary. The fight in the caverns provided the best opportunity for the ruse. I followed you into that beach area as a seagull and did my best to observe closely in case my aid was needed. Seems Frederick had other plans than your massacre. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

         Miranda allowed herself to be seated again and with an awkward motion refused to look at the shape-shifter. Orca watched him like a hawk, being rudely reminded of an incident in the Mukian forests outside of Notropolis only a month back. There she had taken her revenge on Coner for the sins of his past. For taking her as a child to be forced into the divine, the malicious deeds taken on Nicholas, the murder of Yamoto’s father and gross violation of Miranda. Then one day he changed. An utter transformation as if his capacity for caring had been unlocked. Orca didn’t care at the time whether or not the change was legitimate or part of another deception. She tortured him in the most savage and grotesque way possible taking full advantage of his regenerative qualities to maximize the pain.

         Afterwards she regretted it. Regretted so much she lost sleep time and again but yet could not bring herself to admit this fact. Now as ever she maintained a cool distance and cast a distrustful expression to the man she had cried over at his fake death. Realizing the freak probably saw the emotional display augmented old angers and bitter resentments.

         “I overheard the conversation you had earlier,” admitted Coner. “Did you mean it?”

         “It doesn’t matter,” said Orca. “I’m still a gate member and have a sole mission: Vanhorne’s death.”

         “You heard him. The cunning poses a threat. Well, there are two of us here. A choice must be made. Either we put everything into the offensive, or do as you suggested, surrender like ones who have no right in determining the correct purpose of things.”

         “What is your opinion? Who is right?”

         Coner crossed his arms and shut his eyes.

         “We came to battle. But I have no right to make any moral judgments. I am yours to command—a piece to use for any purpose.”

         “You know how I feel about you.”

         “Then command me to die and I shall do it in earnest.”

         Orca exhaled heavily and fell back into her chair.

         “I told you…”

         “Yes.”

         “You can take a bullet for us, kill our enemies and whole hell lot more but it still smells rotten having you around. Now we’re in your territory.”

         “We’re all former-divine,” interjected Coner with a hint of annoyance.

         “True, but we have a harder time lying.”

         “Yes, I’m sure I have some grand plan in the works by deliberately opposing one of the most powerful forces in this universe! It makes perfect
sense.”

         “Enough,” said Miranda at once leaning forward over the table. “I’ve had enough bickering between you two. It gets old.”

         Coner grimaced and looked away with crimson cheeks indicative of a wounded pride.

         “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

         “Oh! How many times do I have to tell you to save your apologies,” said Orca again on fire. “You still killed Yamoto’s father, you still--”

         “Stop it,” Coner bawled and clenched both fists. “You want me gone so bad I’ll go turn myself over to the light god right now.

         “Such melodrama. What do I care if you do just that?”

         “You should,” pointed the cunning. “You need my help. The only time I ever heard a simple ‘thank you’ from your lips was when I separated you from a fatal blow with the sword. I think in total I’ve saved your life at least three times now.”

         Miranda cried. Neither arguing seemed to notice.

         “You don’t know that. I probably would have lived some way or the other.”

         “That isn’t true. I know in your heart of hearts you’ve forgiven me. Why are you always so harsh like this?”

         “There’s something altogether too arrogant about you even after your little transformation. What did you expect, Coner, a bouquet of roses and a dozen great friends that just caulk up your evil past to a few bad decisions? People spend their lives in prison or are executed for deeds that pale compared with your own wonderful collection. I’ve been waiting for karma to repay you but it seems instead you’re destined to get off for free. It isn’t fair.”

         Coner’s pallor darkened. He tensed and made to back away, greatly affected by this onslaught of words. He allowed the woman to stare him down a minute before turning and departing, soon forming into something altogether too small to recognize with any ease. Thus the brief exchange ended and, for the time being, no one was any better off than before.

Act V