Chapter Text
It had been some time since you had been visited. In truth, you loathed being visited, primarily because it always meant that someone wanted something from you. They would pay you but that would typically be it. There would be no conversation, no socialization of any sort, just a simple order, repair, attachment, and finally transaction and they would be off.
Except for Mindfang. She always talked. And it was always about the same things.
"Did she deserve it?"
"Do you regret it?"
And occasionally "Why did you do it?"
And it was always the last question that trips you up. The first question you always say yes. The second question is always no. But the third, the reasoning behind why you are so sure of the first two you have never quite known, never quite understood. And it haunts you. It has haunted you for so many sweeps that you cannot remember exactly when it was that you showed mercy to her. When it was that you lost all credibility and had all of your titles, all of your wealth, all of what it was that made you the troll you were stripped away from you, leaving you with just your name. And even then, only part of your name.
So now you're a b100b100d, a Highblood living in an abandoned temple of some forgotten religion creating artificial limbs for other trolls just to get some coin so that you can survive.
But why? Why not just end this pathetic charade? You have nothing and have been left with a gaping void. Why not just simply take one of your crossbows and finish off the job the Subjugglators started?
And the question is always answered by her face.
The face of the girl with the wide eyes so full of emotion, full of despair and anger and fear that cut straight into the thick armor you wore and pierced your heart. The face that has haunted your waking days and nights, torturing you with so many questions, questions that you just do not have any answers for.
And yet in that face, despite the fact that she knew you were going to be the executioner for her beloved, despite the fact that you were pointing an arrow at her, ready to kill her for simply being part of the Sufferer's revolution you saw...
Forgiveness. Acceptance. Love. Not a single shred of hatred for what you were doing, what you were going to do, what you inevitably did.
And you faltered.
And you let her go.
And then you looked upon the Sufferer and saw his pain. You looked into the mutant blood's eyes and you saw the same look.
He was supposed to have been hanging there in those red hot irons until he died. This would have taken weeks, if not months.
You notched an arrow, the same arrow you were going to kill the girl with and decided to cut that sentence down to three days.
It hit him in the side. Not caring of the roars of disapproval you walked up to him and grasped the arrow. With one strong pull you wrenched the arrow out creating a gaping wound.
He then gave his last sermon.
You have never forgotten it.
And now, as you make additions to the arm attachment you find yourself remembering it. How the last word trailed into nothing as his lifeblood left him. You find yourself shuddering before a feeling overwhelms you.
There is someone in the temple besides you.
You look up from your work bench. There is no one there. You scan around you, taking stock of the entire room. Nothing.
You tentatively look up.
Before you can even finish craning your neck upwards you find yourself slammed to the ground, the razor sharp blades of a gauntlet pressed against your neck. An attempt to turn your head to see your attacker is made only for the blades to dig in a little deeper.
"Hello Darkl33r," the voice of the body pressing on your back says, an aged female voice crisp with barely constrained... Amusement?
"We m33t again. Although this time it s33ms like I'm the one holding the weapon."
Your body stiffens. No. This cannot be.
"D... Disciple?" The blades in your neck pull back a minute amount.
"Yesss. Though I'm a little bit older and much more experienced."
The blades go back to digging in as she continues, "You killed the Sufferer."
"I ended his pain. If I hadn't, it would have taken weeks to die."
"So you don't regret it?"
You pause. You have never questioned that before. She does not move, does not even seem to breath as she waits for your response.
"Yes. I... I regret it."
The Disciple lets out the smallest of gasps.
"I regret it," you continue, "Because I think, in that small moment when I 100ked into his eyes and saw only forgiveness I pitied him. I wanted to pull him down and treat his wounds. In that moment I felt... Pale for him."
The blades pull back but you do not move.
"And when he spoke his last sermon I believed. I heard and I saw the world he described. It felt so real. Like a memory I had forgotten.
"I knew there was so way I could save him, though. The only thing I could do was to do what I do best.
"I E%ecuted him. I gave him the quickest death I could give without being killed myself for treason, if only because his final moments were so... Painful."
For a moment there is no sounds except for your own ragged breath. Then you hear a rhythmic hissing sound. Turning your head in confusion you see the Disciple with a clawed hand over her mouth, green tears sliding down her face. The tears offset you once you realize what the sound is. A bewildered look crosses your face.
"Are... You laughing?"
Between hisssing giggles she responds, "Yes. Yes I am. It's just. I'm so happy."
"Why?"
"Because at the end, he had a friend with him. He had someone who believed him even when he died," She climbs off of you with all of the grace of a feline, "For that, Darkl33r, I will let you live. I could never kill a fellow Disciple."
You pick yourself up and take a better look at the woman before you. She is much smaller than you and covered with a multitude of furs and grasses instead of the ornate black and green clothes she wore so long ago. She definitely has aged, as most lowerbloods tend to do but has done so gracefully, a few thin streaks of grey stalking through her knotted mass of unruly hair. Her eyes...
Her eyes are exactly the same as they were so many sweeps ago, if not hardened a slight bit from becoming wild.
As your eyes meet you realize she was doing the same to you and find yourself feeling strangely awkward.
With a small noise, she hops up onto your workbench.
"So, Darkl33r," She says, pronouncing the long ee of your name nasally, sounding much like a purrbeast, "I didn't just come here to kill you. I came here to get information about something."
A feeling grips you. It causes you to turn around to hide the strange look on your face that grows there. People always only come to you when they need something. They never come to you for any other reason, why should this be any different?
"Something that you might want to help me with, now that I think about it," She continues but you only barely register it over the sound of your own thoughts.
"Darkleer," You stop and shift your head slightly, "I want to kill the Subjugglators. I want to kill every single last one of them."
Your jaw drops. You turn around slowly to see her crouched on your bench, eyes shaded by the furs, glowing dangerously.
"I want to make them pay."
You find yourself agreeing.
It is time.
Make them pay.