Mzzkc's Mind Games

??.11.2011

Initiate (Parts 1 and 2) (DILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

There’s so many of us.

But still plenty of room to fight.

One at a time, they all have to fall, else I’ll be the one to go down.

Still, I can’t help enjoying the thrill of battle as I face my first opponent, a looming giant of a man, with sad, soulful eyes and the strength of a monster. With one hand he’s able to catch my true blade and hold it firm even as I charge it with screaming, vibrating, blue energy.

“I’m impressed. You should be in pieces by now. . .”

Time moves forward, as do my battles. The refined, razor sharp steel of my pure white, twisted-dragon-hilt katana, reduced to a blunt club against these foes. Tearing down my Vizard mask, with every strike I release a torrent of black energy, tinted red by my gleeful fury. Teleporting in and out, around my final enemy, I brutal beat him down with one wicked slash after another, into the ground, into darkness. *

It’s over. Three of us are left standing, all of us drenched in blood. I realize we’re the same, though our methods may be different, and it makes me sick.

“I’m done with this,” I say to them.

“Done with what?” One of them asks, suspicion and paranoia in his eyes.

“This,” I motion to the battleground around us, coated in warm blood and the bodies of countless slain warriors.

Walking off, I catch one of them say, “And you call yourself an eight!”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” I comment back, not even bothering to look.
______________

Daffodil is her name. A beautiful golden retriever, my new friend. We had spent so much time together, bonding, all in preparation for this moment, as I stand before an invisible committee.

Crouching down, stroking the top of her head to the flowing golden fur on the back of her neck, I do it quickly. My knife enters her throat cleanly, and I slide it through quickly, smoothly, minimizing her pain. But as she lies there on ground, bleeding out, I see I’ve missed the jugular. I correct my mistake immediately, ending her quiet whines, her suffering, my first task.

Now create yourself a human DC, and do the same. I hear his sick voice in my head.

No, that’s stupid. I have no issue killing illusions of my own creation.

You will do it, or you’ll fail. Him again.

But it’s pointless.

Then you fail.

. . . Fine. But I do it my way. . .

Calling out, almost immediately, I find myself a DC. A young boy named Jerry.

“Do you like baseball, Jerry?” I inquire.

“I sure do, mister,” he replies hesitantly.

“I’ve got a friend who’s really into baseball. Excellent pitcher; throws a pitch the Japanese call The Great Equalizer. . .”

And just like that we’ve formed a bond, Jerry and I. We walk for a bit, before I tell him I’ve got something to show him.

“What’s that, mister?”

I can hear he’s nervous as I draw my knife, the one I’d used a short time ago.

“This is my knife. Nice, isn’t it?

“What do you use that for?”

“Oh, killing, mostly.”

He steps back, fear on his face, and I know how much this is going to suck for both of us. So, with a flash, I activate my Geass, imprinting my will over his own. Now all Jerry wants, with his entire being, is to die by my hand. So I oblige, placing my hand on his shoulder and slashing open his throat. To quicken things, I drive my blade into his stomach and drive it upwards, destroying his heart, without breaking any bones.

He’s dead before he hits the ground.

Things begin to fade. . .

Creative. His voice, sickeningly friendly, breaks the silence, keeps me tied to the dream.

He was just an illusion. I told you already, killing DCs is meaningless.

Really? Then I suppose you wouldn’t have any trouble killing a DC of your mother? I can almost see his twisted grin.

Nope.

To prove a point, I whip up a DC who looks just like my mother, cut her throat like the others, hit her onto the ground, and stomp her skull into bits, her brain into mush.

I feel no remorse.

You have issues. He seems stunned and taken aback.

Like I said. Just a DC.