Post by Eternity on Jan 28, 2017 18:42:33 GMT
In the dead of a late January night, a mysterious van slowly crawls to a stop outside an abandoned building somewhere in Boston, Massachusetts. In the back of the van with you, you see Warren Kane light each of the four pairs of candles in front of him, each pair presented to him by the four young face-painted sisters who he had come to care for over the last few months. It didn't matter that he knew so little about them, only their given names.
Faith, Hope, Patience and Charity.
You see him light seven of the candles carefully, and then pause at the eighth and final candle for a moment.
Warren: May God rest his soul...
His sigh is deep, slow and deliberate as he allows the flame to kiss the eighth and final wick in memorial to his dear departed brother. You see my pale hand pat him on the back as Warren quickly extinguishes the lighter and hands it back to me.
You watch the four sisters then pull the hoods of their robes over their faces with an impressively practised hand and synchronicity.
You see Warren then slowly open the back doors of the van and usher each little candle bearing hooded figure out into the world, before pulling his own hood up over his face and joining them.
You watch me watching him lead my children over to the building's entrance before pulling my own scarlet hood over my head and stepping out after them. You watch me walk towards the eight flickering flames, more moth than butterfly, reminded of the first time everything changed forever...
You see Warren look down from the worn sign above the entrance and take a moment to process the bold faced notice taped to the right glass door.
It was a nice sentiment, even if Warren knew it to be hollow. Though the notice proudly declared these to be his father's words, Warren knew they were not, because when you were Spike Kane you never apologised for anything, especially when it really mattered.
You see Warren then rip the notice from the door, screw it up and throw it on the ground outside. He tapped the exposed glass with his knuckles. A few moments passed before an elderly gentleman appeared, peering through the glass, his grey eyes widening at the sight of the hooded congregation outside.
Warren pulled his hood back just enough to reveal himself to the old man who then immediately unlocked the doors and let them all in.
Warren: Thank you, Charlie.
Warren then embraces the old man, patting him on the back.
Charlie: Warren! As I live and breathe! How long's it been? 4 years?
Warren: About that. So, is everything set up?
Charlie nods.
Charlie: Just like you asked. I would ask what this is all about, but I figure the less I know the less I have to lie to Mr Kane.
For as long as Warren had known the old dogsbody that his father employed to maintain the building's condition and now oversee its renovation, he had known Charles Hartley to be a very wise old man, and one he trusted implicitly and absolutely.
Warren: Go home, Charlie, we'll lock up when we're done. It'll be like we were never here.
The elder gentleman knew better than to ask any more questions, and so just nods as puts his hat on, and his hands in his coat pockets and leaves.
After he is gone, you see me pull down my hood, and shake my wild pink hair free, before exclaiming.
What a lovely old man! Reminds me of Grandpa...well done, Kidd. Well done...
Girls: Hmmm hmmm hmmm
Hmm, hmmm, hmmm
Oh-ho Death...
Oh Death...
Oh ho Death...
Won't you spare me over another?
Silence.
Girls: Well, what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands taking hold of me?
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
When God is gone and the Devil takes hold
Who will have mercy on your soul?
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
Oh-ho Death...
Oh Death...
Oh Death...
Oh Death...
No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul
Oh-ho Death...
Well, I am Death, none can excel
I'll open the door to Heaven or Hell
Oh-ho Death...
Oh Death...
My name is Death and the end is here...
You see the sombre march come to a stop in one of the oldest training rooms in the building. The door creaks open as Warren steps inside, reaching for the light switch out of a reflexive memory of an eighteen year old who had one of his very first in ring experiences in this room.
The light reluctantly flickers to a steady dim hue after a few moments, revealing a wrestling ring surrounded by the unforgiving steel and barbed wire skeleton of the Dragon's Den.
You see the line disperse as I slowly step forward and marvel at the sixteen foot high dome topped structure.
My emerald eyes dilate and my jaw falls, taking it all in.
The tapes I had seen did it absolutely no justice. No justice at all.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEHEEEEE!
You see me then slowly approach the Den, slowly running a bare hand across the cold steel and cutting barbed wire, undisturbed by the trail of blood from torn flesh that I was leaving behind with my actions.
You see me then press my cheek up against it and close my eyes, and you hear me sigh in utter contentment.
Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here, Kidd...
Warren: You're welcome. Why don't you step inside? Get a real feel for it...
You see me suddenly pull away, blood slowly oozing from the cuts on my cheek now. You watch me snap my head excitedly in Warren's direction.
Oooh, can I?
Warren: Absolutely. It is what we came here for, isn't it?
Warren steps forward with the key and undoes the padlocked chain for her, he then smiles at her as he opens the door for her and gestures for her to step inside.
You see me then shed my robe entirely, revealing a 'Daddy's Little Girl' t-shirt and the Shieldmaiden title wrapped around my waist.
If I was going to step into such hallowed surroundings, I wanted to make sure I was appropriately dressed for the occasion.
My, my, what a gentleman, clearly not a trait from your father's side...
You see me then step inside slowly. Taking a moment to look at the various weapons that were suspended from barb wire inside the Den and hung onto the walls, each a little snapshot into a history of violence. On the wall directly ahead of me, the original "Spiked One" caught my eye.
Ooooooooh...SPIKEY!
You see me skip over to it, and pluck the infamous signature barbed wire baseball bat from its place carefully, before speaking to it directly.
I remember you! I'm such a big fan of all your work! It really is you, isn't it? The one who started all of this. The first and most distant thought in his mind. The origin. The first inclination of his sickness. The first symptom of his disease. The first sign that he would never be alright, never be normal. The first breath of a new life, a life greater and more sick and twisted than you ever were. The first puff of smoke from the Dragon's breath...
I wonder, did you know back then how far he'd go, even without you?
You see me then delicately trace the weapon along the back wall of the Den, barb wire meeting barb wire, speaking now to the structure itself.
Did you have any idea it would come to this? That you would be the foundation of the real House of God? The progenitor of his myth? The first words of his legend? The ultimate purpose of his life and proof of his existence? Standing still even as they doubt him and everything that brought us here today...the death of a brother, of a son, of innocence...
CLANG!
The sound of steel hitting steel causes me to jump, dropping the bat I land spinning on my heels and I see one of the doctors putting me back in the box.
You see Warren lock the Den as the four sisters look at him confused.
Doctor Warren: It's for her own good...
I run up to the padded door of my cell , banging my fists against it first and then my head, repeatedly.
It hurt when it wasn't supposed to.
I saw Uncle Harry lead my cousins away.
You saw Warren try to usher the sisters away, whispering.
Warren: It's okay, you're free now. She can't hurt you anymore. I'm going to take you back to your families.
Hope: Home?
Faith: Family?
Warren nods.
Charity: But we are.
Warren: I mean your real families...
Patience: We've never had real families. None of us, that is why we are one now. All of us. Together. Alone.
Warren: I...I don't understand, don't you want to go home?
Girls: We are home!
You see Hope then lead her sisters back to me. My face now a crimson mask from banging my head up against the door of the Den, Faith then grabs the chain and rattles it to no avail, inadvertently cutting herself on the barbed wire around it.
Now all four girls start to cry as Faith cradles her flesh wound.
This seems to snap me out of my own fear, and now I'm back in the Den, my face pressed right up against the door as I lock eyes with Warren, who instinctively rushes back to tend to Faith's accidental injury. You see me snarl and take slow and very deliberate breaths as I speak.
There you are! I wondered when I would see you again. Every bit your father's son, after all. Always hurting somebody. Isn't that the true legacy of a Kane?
Warren whispers his apologies to Faith as he quickly sheds his robe and tears his shirt sleeve to wrap around the little girl's hand. He then looks up at me, and speaks softly.
Warren: I'm sorry, I was only trying to -
You see me Violently shake my head.
DON'T LIE! NOT TO ME! OR THEM! OR YOURSELF!
You're not a Saint, you are selfish! You didn't do this to help them, you did this to help yourself! Trying to find absolution for your father's sins, hoping for a way to make it all alright, praying for the strength to numb the guilt of not being there for Xander. Perhaps if you had gone home for Christmas, Xander would still be alive!
Warren: DON'T! DON'T YOU DARE! I COULDN'T GO HOME BECAUSE OF YOU! IF YOU HADN'T -
OH WAH! WAH! WAH! How many more excuses are you going to hide behind, Kidd? You managed to bring us all here, you managed to separate me from my children and you managed to lock me in here - and STILL you expect me to believe that you're still helpless because of me?
You could have gone home at any time. You could have spent Christmas with Spike, with Rob, with Xander or with Ollie. You could go home right now and be with your family, but instead you try to take my family from me...
Always a Kidd, yet never a child.
So why? Why haven't you gone home yet, Warren?
Why are you still here?
BECAUSE YOU NEED TO BE!
YOU NEED ME!
Warren shakes his head.
Warren: No, I don't need you. You need me. Don't ask me why though, I'm still trying to work that one out...
Warren then explains to Faith that she needs to get to the hospital. Faith then looks at me.
Go, I'll be alright, darling...
Warren then tells all of the girls to leave their candles behind. He then hands me the key to the Den, through the steel mesh, careful to avoid the barbed wire. It rests in my bloody palm.
Warren: I'm sure you can see yourself out while we're at the hospital...
Warren then leads the girls out. After he leaves you see me step back further into the Den, to retrieve "Spikey!", leaving the key in its place. You see me stare at the bat as I speak softly.
You're right, I do need you. More than you'll ever know. I need you to help me help myself...and hey if we're lucky, maybe just maybe we'll see each other through all of this crazy shit, together...
You see me then place "Spikey" over my shoulder, and pick up the bloody key again with my free hand, talking now to it.
You opened the door for him, and he in turn opened the door for us. All of us. The crazies, the freaks, the oddballs and the tortured souls. He was the first one I remember seeing on television all those years ago, when I first found my way out of my cell. Now I must find another.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Constant. Enduring. Everlasting. The definition of pain, a legacy, a career, history itself, each of them redefined and rewritten, until nobody recognises us anymore. Not even her. Least of all her. Helena Sawyer, a poor reflection stretched across masquerades of glass. Waves upon waves, she waves to us from across the sea. The great ocean that separates us. She tries to speak our language, but her tongue is broken. Ripped and torn from us so much, too much.
ENOUGH!
NO, NEVER ENOUGH!
She seeks us out once more, this time on her own. All alone. She wanders in search of the light, in search of the trail we have blazed. She looks to walk our path of flame back to the Dragon. A hunter driven by hunger or sport or game, maybe all three, I don't know. All I know is she calls out to us. She calls our name. She wants to know us, what makes us who we are.
Who we have always been.
Before her and after her, always just ahead.
And so she reaches into the darkness, her fingers grasping for something always just beyond her reach.
Understanding.
Everything.
Nothing.
Shining silver, drawing her eye, luring her in to our world. Her precious prize, our armour. Our shield. She charges into battle, baring her teeth against my blades - which are sharper? How deep will they cut?
Only time will tell.
'Cause everybody tells..
Everybody tells...
Got a secret
Can you keep it?
Swear this one you'll save
Better lock it in your pocket
Taking this one to the grave
If I show you
Then I know you
Won't tell what I said
'Cause two can keep a secret
If one of them is dead.
Look into my eyes
Now you're getting sleepy
Are you hypnotised
By secrets that you're keeping?
I know what you're keeping...
I know what you're keeping...
Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe....
Reflections burning in water and drowning in fire. Dragon against dragonling. Sister against daughter. Sorrow against misery. Not nearly as synonymous as they may first appear. Our first appearance together on our own, all alone. For once. One sweet moment. Both intimate and fleeting. Your kiss mere lip service to the dying wish of those already dead.
They just don't know it yet, but they will.
We will.
You will.
And I will.
Spread your wings in somebody else's garden, little butterfly, this is the Dragon's lair. Fly far away from here, your wings are too fragile to carry my horde of precious little Diamonds. SHOO! GO ON!
Get out of here whilst you still can, before it's too late. Before this moment passes like any other. As all things do. As all things must...
UH OH!
TOO LATE!
I did warn you, didn't I? I told you this would happen, didn't I?
You see me then place the bloody key on my tongue, before closing my mouth and swallowing.
No way out now. For either of us. You and all your secrets are locked in here with me. The Dragon has your shield. Come and get it back Helena, or face the fire head on. Stripped naked. Exposed to the world for what you are. A pale imitiation, a poor act, an impaired judgement. The flatterer herself flattened. The jester herself the jape.
Taking my place, coveting my throne, mocking my grief.
Disturbing their memory.
HOW DARE YOU!
I have never been so insulted in my life!
And now you will beg for yours back. Back from the iron grip of the reaper. Just as I once did.
But we never get it back, Helena. None of it. There is no going back. Not now. Not ever. This is the road we've chosen, and yours is at an end, marked for an eternity, but no longer caught in limbo. Your facade will burn away, extinguished forever by the Dragon's breath.
The bunny is out of the box now, and his name is Frank.
What's yours?
I promise you the world will remember it - as it does with each of its fallen warriors. Heroes slain by the very beasts they hunt still have their place in history too Helena...
And so too shall you.
Trust me...
My grin is the last thing you see before the dim flickering light gives up completely.
Just like everything around her always did...
Faith, Hope, Patience and Charity.
You see him light seven of the candles carefully, and then pause at the eighth and final candle for a moment.
Warren: May God rest his soul...
His sigh is deep, slow and deliberate as he allows the flame to kiss the eighth and final wick in memorial to his dear departed brother. You see my pale hand pat him on the back as Warren quickly extinguishes the lighter and hands it back to me.
You watch the four sisters then pull the hoods of their robes over their faces with an impressively practised hand and synchronicity.
You see Warren then slowly open the back doors of the van and usher each little candle bearing hooded figure out into the world, before pulling his own hood up over his face and joining them.
You watch me watching him lead my children over to the building's entrance before pulling my own scarlet hood over my head and stepping out after them. You watch me walk towards the eight flickering flames, more moth than butterfly, reminded of the first time everything changed forever...
~~~~~
The family Christmas tree is aflame. Barely a moment passes before the nesting Angel's wings catch fire, revealing her true form to the terrified little girl who watches her world burning.
Mommy was wrong, she wasn't an Angel.
Mommy was dead wrong, she'd never been an Angel.
She was a Dragon, and with each quickening breath, she watched her world burn...
The flames sparked every last one of her nerves with electricity as her heart and mind raced each other.
Fight or flight!
Fight or flight!
Fight or flight!
Fight or flight!
Swept up in daddy's arms, she flew out of the burning house...
~~~~~
~~~~~
It wasn't until you got close enough to it that you began to appreciate that this abandoned building was in the middle of a transition. Caught between identities, for the moment it wore both of it's names.
AWESOM PROPORTION WRESTLING SCHOOL
You see Warren look down from the worn sign above the entrance and take a moment to process the bold faced notice taped to the right glass door.
SORRY
UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE THE XANDER KANE MEMORIAL WRESTLING ACADEMY IS CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. WE APOLOGISE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE AND WELCOME YOUR BUSINESS UPON RELAUNCH.
FOUNDER
Michael Patrick Kane.
It was a nice sentiment, even if Warren knew it to be hollow. Though the notice proudly declared these to be his father's words, Warren knew they were not, because when you were Spike Kane you never apologised for anything, especially when it really mattered.
You see Warren then rip the notice from the door, screw it up and throw it on the ground outside. He tapped the exposed glass with his knuckles. A few moments passed before an elderly gentleman appeared, peering through the glass, his grey eyes widening at the sight of the hooded congregation outside.
Warren pulled his hood back just enough to reveal himself to the old man who then immediately unlocked the doors and let them all in.
Warren: Thank you, Charlie.
Warren then embraces the old man, patting him on the back.
Charlie: Warren! As I live and breathe! How long's it been? 4 years?
Warren: About that. So, is everything set up?
Charlie nods.
Charlie: Just like you asked. I would ask what this is all about, but I figure the less I know the less I have to lie to Mr Kane.
For as long as Warren had known the old dogsbody that his father employed to maintain the building's condition and now oversee its renovation, he had known Charles Hartley to be a very wise old man, and one he trusted implicitly and absolutely.
Warren: Go home, Charlie, we'll lock up when we're done. It'll be like we were never here.
The elder gentleman knew better than to ask any more questions, and so just nods as puts his hat on, and his hands in his coat pockets and leaves.
After he is gone, you see me pull down my hood, and shake my wild pink hair free, before exclaiming.
What a lovely old man! Reminds me of Grandpa...well done, Kidd. Well done...
~~~~~
Grandpa was locking something very precious away in his oakwood box. It would be a good few more years before she understood or even cared about what lay inside. That was not what she was here for right now. Right now, the little girl ran to him, eager to show him what she had drawn for him.
A big squiggly balding face with glasses and the biggest smile Grandpa had ever seen next to a smaller, potato shaped face with short wavy yellow hair.
The little girl presented him with her gift, and he beamed with such pride that day.
"Awww, this must be you," Grandpa said as he sat down carefully to admire her picture, a shaky finger hovering over the smaller face.
The girl nodded, smiling.
"But who is this? He looks like a very nice old man."
The girl pointed towards Grandpa and giggled.
"Me? Oh how marvellous!" exclaimed Grandpa. "Well, that settles it then, we know what you're going to be when you grow up, don't we? An artist!"
He was a very wise and very perceptive man, Grandpa.
Always never too far off the mark.
He was a very wise and very perceptive man, Grandpa.
Always never too far off the mark.
~~~~~
You hear my children start too hum, and then sing softly as we followed Warren in single file through the workmen's graveyard of abandoned tools, equipment, paint thinner and scaffolding, he the beginning and I the end of the line.Girls: Hmmm hmmm hmmm
Hmm, hmmm, hmmm
Oh-ho Death...
Oh Death...
Oh ho Death...
Won't you spare me over another?
Silence.
Girls: Well, what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands taking hold of me?
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
When God is gone and the Devil takes hold
Who will have mercy on your soul?
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
Oh-ho Death...
Oh Death...
Oh Death...
Oh Death...
No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul
Oh-ho Death...
Well, I am Death, none can excel
I'll open the door to Heaven or Hell
Oh-ho Death...
Oh Death...
My name is Death and the end is here...
You see the sombre march come to a stop in one of the oldest training rooms in the building. The door creaks open as Warren steps inside, reaching for the light switch out of a reflexive memory of an eighteen year old who had one of his very first in ring experiences in this room.
The light reluctantly flickers to a steady dim hue after a few moments, revealing a wrestling ring surrounded by the unforgiving steel and barbed wire skeleton of the Dragon's Den.
You see the line disperse as I slowly step forward and marvel at the sixteen foot high dome topped structure.
My emerald eyes dilate and my jaw falls, taking it all in.
The tapes I had seen did it absolutely no justice. No justice at all.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEHEEEEE!
You see me then slowly approach the Den, slowly running a bare hand across the cold steel and cutting barbed wire, undisturbed by the trail of blood from torn flesh that I was leaving behind with my actions.
You see me then press my cheek up against it and close my eyes, and you hear me sigh in utter contentment.
Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here, Kidd...
Warren: You're welcome. Why don't you step inside? Get a real feel for it...
You see me suddenly pull away, blood slowly oozing from the cuts on my cheek now. You watch me snap my head excitedly in Warren's direction.
Oooh, can I?
Warren: Absolutely. It is what we came here for, isn't it?
Warren steps forward with the key and undoes the padlocked chain for her, he then smiles at her as he opens the door for her and gestures for her to step inside.
You see me then shed my robe entirely, revealing a 'Daddy's Little Girl' t-shirt and the Shieldmaiden title wrapped around my waist.
If I was going to step into such hallowed surroundings, I wanted to make sure I was appropriately dressed for the occasion.
My, my, what a gentleman, clearly not a trait from your father's side...
You see me then step inside slowly. Taking a moment to look at the various weapons that were suspended from barb wire inside the Den and hung onto the walls, each a little snapshot into a history of violence. On the wall directly ahead of me, the original "Spiked One" caught my eye.
Ooooooooh...SPIKEY!
You see me skip over to it, and pluck the infamous signature barbed wire baseball bat from its place carefully, before speaking to it directly.
I remember you! I'm such a big fan of all your work! It really is you, isn't it? The one who started all of this. The first and most distant thought in his mind. The origin. The first inclination of his sickness. The first symptom of his disease. The first sign that he would never be alright, never be normal. The first breath of a new life, a life greater and more sick and twisted than you ever were. The first puff of smoke from the Dragon's breath...
I wonder, did you know back then how far he'd go, even without you?
You see me then delicately trace the weapon along the back wall of the Den, barb wire meeting barb wire, speaking now to the structure itself.
Did you have any idea it would come to this? That you would be the foundation of the real House of God? The progenitor of his myth? The first words of his legend? The ultimate purpose of his life and proof of his existence? Standing still even as they doubt him and everything that brought us here today...the death of a brother, of a son, of innocence...
CLANG!
The sound of steel hitting steel causes me to jump, dropping the bat I land spinning on my heels and I see one of the doctors putting me back in the box.
You see Warren lock the Den as the four sisters look at him confused.
Doctor Warren: It's for her own good...
I run up to the padded door of my cell , banging my fists against it first and then my head, repeatedly.
It hurt when it wasn't supposed to.
I saw Uncle Harry lead my cousins away.
You saw Warren try to usher the sisters away, whispering.
Warren: It's okay, you're free now. She can't hurt you anymore. I'm going to take you back to your families.
Hope: Home?
Faith: Family?
Warren nods.
Charity: But we are.
Warren: I mean your real families...
Patience: We've never had real families. None of us, that is why we are one now. All of us. Together. Alone.
Warren: I...I don't understand, don't you want to go home?
Girls: We are home!
You see Hope then lead her sisters back to me. My face now a crimson mask from banging my head up against the door of the Den, Faith then grabs the chain and rattles it to no avail, inadvertently cutting herself on the barbed wire around it.
Now all four girls start to cry as Faith cradles her flesh wound.
This seems to snap me out of my own fear, and now I'm back in the Den, my face pressed right up against the door as I lock eyes with Warren, who instinctively rushes back to tend to Faith's accidental injury. You see me snarl and take slow and very deliberate breaths as I speak.
There you are! I wondered when I would see you again. Every bit your father's son, after all. Always hurting somebody. Isn't that the true legacy of a Kane?
Warren whispers his apologies to Faith as he quickly sheds his robe and tears his shirt sleeve to wrap around the little girl's hand. He then looks up at me, and speaks softly.
Warren: I'm sorry, I was only trying to -
You see me Violently shake my head.
DON'T LIE! NOT TO ME! OR THEM! OR YOURSELF!
You're not a Saint, you are selfish! You didn't do this to help them, you did this to help yourself! Trying to find absolution for your father's sins, hoping for a way to make it all alright, praying for the strength to numb the guilt of not being there for Xander. Perhaps if you had gone home for Christmas, Xander would still be alive!
Warren: DON'T! DON'T YOU DARE! I COULDN'T GO HOME BECAUSE OF YOU! IF YOU HADN'T -
OH WAH! WAH! WAH! How many more excuses are you going to hide behind, Kidd? You managed to bring us all here, you managed to separate me from my children and you managed to lock me in here - and STILL you expect me to believe that you're still helpless because of me?
You could have gone home at any time. You could have spent Christmas with Spike, with Rob, with Xander or with Ollie. You could go home right now and be with your family, but instead you try to take my family from me...
Always a Kidd, yet never a child.
So why? Why haven't you gone home yet, Warren?
Why are you still here?
BECAUSE YOU NEED TO BE!
YOU NEED ME!
Warren shakes his head.
Warren: No, I don't need you. You need me. Don't ask me why though, I'm still trying to work that one out...
Warren then explains to Faith that she needs to get to the hospital. Faith then looks at me.
Go, I'll be alright, darling...
Warren then tells all of the girls to leave their candles behind. He then hands me the key to the Den, through the steel mesh, careful to avoid the barbed wire. It rests in my bloody palm.
Warren: I'm sure you can see yourself out while we're at the hospital...
Warren then leads the girls out. After he leaves you see me step back further into the Den, to retrieve "Spikey!", leaving the key in its place. You see me stare at the bat as I speak softly.
You're right, I do need you. More than you'll ever know. I need you to help me help myself...and hey if we're lucky, maybe just maybe we'll see each other through all of this crazy shit, together...
You see me then place "Spikey" over my shoulder, and pick up the bloody key again with my free hand, talking now to it.
You opened the door for him, and he in turn opened the door for us. All of us. The crazies, the freaks, the oddballs and the tortured souls. He was the first one I remember seeing on television all those years ago, when I first found my way out of my cell. Now I must find another.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Constant. Enduring. Everlasting. The definition of pain, a legacy, a career, history itself, each of them redefined and rewritten, until nobody recognises us anymore. Not even her. Least of all her. Helena Sawyer, a poor reflection stretched across masquerades of glass. Waves upon waves, she waves to us from across the sea. The great ocean that separates us. She tries to speak our language, but her tongue is broken. Ripped and torn from us so much, too much.
ENOUGH!
NO, NEVER ENOUGH!
She seeks us out once more, this time on her own. All alone. She wanders in search of the light, in search of the trail we have blazed. She looks to walk our path of flame back to the Dragon. A hunter driven by hunger or sport or game, maybe all three, I don't know. All I know is she calls out to us. She calls our name. She wants to know us, what makes us who we are.
Who we have always been.
Before her and after her, always just ahead.
And so she reaches into the darkness, her fingers grasping for something always just beyond her reach.
Understanding.
Everything.
Nothing.
Shining silver, drawing her eye, luring her in to our world. Her precious prize, our armour. Our shield. She charges into battle, baring her teeth against my blades - which are sharper? How deep will they cut?
Only time will tell.
'Cause everybody tells..
Everybody tells...
Got a secret
Can you keep it?
Swear this one you'll save
Better lock it in your pocket
Taking this one to the grave
If I show you
Then I know you
Won't tell what I said
'Cause two can keep a secret
If one of them is dead.
Look into my eyes
Now you're getting sleepy
Are you hypnotised
By secrets that you're keeping?
I know what you're keeping...
I know what you're keeping...
Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe....
Reflections burning in water and drowning in fire. Dragon against dragonling. Sister against daughter. Sorrow against misery. Not nearly as synonymous as they may first appear. Our first appearance together on our own, all alone. For once. One sweet moment. Both intimate and fleeting. Your kiss mere lip service to the dying wish of those already dead.
They just don't know it yet, but they will.
We will.
You will.
And I will.
Spread your wings in somebody else's garden, little butterfly, this is the Dragon's lair. Fly far away from here, your wings are too fragile to carry my horde of precious little Diamonds. SHOO! GO ON!
Get out of here whilst you still can, before it's too late. Before this moment passes like any other. As all things do. As all things must...
UH OH!
TOO LATE!
I did warn you, didn't I? I told you this would happen, didn't I?
You see me then place the bloody key on my tongue, before closing my mouth and swallowing.
No way out now. For either of us. You and all your secrets are locked in here with me. The Dragon has your shield. Come and get it back Helena, or face the fire head on. Stripped naked. Exposed to the world for what you are. A pale imitiation, a poor act, an impaired judgement. The flatterer herself flattened. The jester herself the jape.
Taking my place, coveting my throne, mocking my grief.
Disturbing their memory.
HOW DARE YOU!
I have never been so insulted in my life!
And now you will beg for yours back. Back from the iron grip of the reaper. Just as I once did.
But we never get it back, Helena. None of it. There is no going back. Not now. Not ever. This is the road we've chosen, and yours is at an end, marked for an eternity, but no longer caught in limbo. Your facade will burn away, extinguished forever by the Dragon's breath.
The bunny is out of the box now, and his name is Frank.
What's yours?
I promise you the world will remember it - as it does with each of its fallen warriors. Heroes slain by the very beasts they hunt still have their place in history too Helena...
And so too shall you.
Trust me...
My grin is the last thing you see before the dim flickering light gives up completely.
Just like everything around her always did...
Well howdy there pardner.