Secondary Saga- Phase 7 "Kicking Ass and Taking Names"

[Strazio Rockwell]

Isaac’s body ached and his head throbbed. Something was trying to worm its way into his psyche, and it was winning. He clutched at his head and ground his teeth to dust. Images of Sector 8 flashed in his mind like an old fashioned movie reel. He had killed them all, every last member of sector 8 was sent to hell by his own hands. The old man’s vision became hazy and he felt trapped within his aged body. A prisoner to his own flesh all Isaac could do was watch as his body stumbled to its feet. Crimson whips and bloody lances danced around his body, his vicious weapon twisted and turned itself upon his allies.

Deep inside the darkness of Isaac's mind the Bloodlance found himself trapped. He watched his possessed body attack those he called friends. Unfettered by his oath his body struck with the ferocity of an unholy demon. Blood spattered across the impossible geometry of the void, staining the black walls with a crimson Pollock painting. His first target was Christa, his closest friend. Internally the old man raged and thrashed against the angel’s icy cold grip, but the struggle was fruitless. Christa fought back carefully, trying her best to not injure the old man as he did his best to rip her to ribbons.

“Just like old times eh Carter?” a murderous voice called out to Isaac from within his prison. In the darkness he turned around and was greeted by his old friend, Romearo. Deep within the darkest recesses of his mind Isaac stilled harbored memories of Romearo, memories now made manifest by the angel’s wicked power. Isaac didn’t speak, but simply watched in horror as a ghost of the past walked towards him. Chains poured forth from the darkness and wrapped their cold metal around Isaac’s body, binding him in place. The angel’s grip on his psyche was getting stronger and soon his mind would be completely swallowed.

“You, know I’m pleasantly surprised Carter. I didn’t think you had it in you, I mean you killed me and the rest of Sector 8... But that was before you made that ridiculous oath to your wifey.” Romearo’s slick voice taunted the helpless Bloodlance.

Isaac shouted “shut up! You’re dead, you’re dead and this is all a fucking nightmare!”

“Who are you trying to convince Bloodlance? Me? Christa? Yourself?”

“Why can’t you leave me alone!?”

“You know the answer to that Carter!” Romearo shouted back, his voice pierced holes in Isaac’s head “this is the fate of Sector 8 Carter, we all die! You just have a habit of killing your friends instead of allowing yourself to be killed!”

“Fuck off!” Isaac’s voice cracked and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Look at you, look at all of us. We’re unnatural monsters, your blood is a fucking weapon of death for christ’s sake.” Romearo leaned in close to the chained Isaac and smiled “we fight or die, we kill or are killed. There is no other life for monster like us.”

Christa had managed to push Isaac’s body into a glass cage. His trapped body bashed itself against the glass, trying to break free. Lances of blood slammed into the walls of his prison, creating hairline cracks along the birdcage. For a moment Isaac’s body was unable to fight and could only thrash against its cage. Blood stained the crystal-like glass, creating a macabre mural of cracked glass and slick blood. Eventually the probing lances found purchase in a crack. The glass shattered into a million sparkling shards, sending blood-stained sparks of glass across the battlefield.

Isaac’s body looked around and found its next target, General Klaud. He stalked towards the fallen female, she was begging the angel to release her comrades. The old man’s body towered over Klaud, his dull blue eyes showed no sign of trepidation.

“Isaac, please...” she pleaded. The Bloodlance took no pity on her. His bloody whip wrapped itself around her neck and lifted her from the ground. She thrashed and tried to peel back the thick rope of gore. Klaud scanned Isaac’s face for any sign of compassion-- any sign of humanity, but there was none to be found. Behind them the angel watched silently, its impossible form pulsing against the bleak backdrop of the void. Was this where there journey ended? Ripping each other apart like mad dogs?

Inside Isaac’s mind he wrestled for control of his body, but he was too weak and tired to rage against the chains binding him. The once proud warrior was now reduced to a simple puppet forced to slay his friends. He wished this was the first time he had ever been in such a situation.

“You killed me Isaac, stabbed me right through the chest. I didn’t hate you for it, no I was glad... Proud of your strength. So now that cycle begins anew, your comrades are now going to fall by your wicked hands and this time you’re too weak to even take responsibility. Pathetic...” Romearo taunted.

Hot tears poured from Isaac’s eyes, he screamed and yelled. There was no more words that would feel right in his mouth. All the poor man could do was scream within his own mind, unable to even apologize for the atrocity that he was about to commit. He watched in horror as Klaud was strangled by his own terrible power.

“Come now Isaac, don’t cry it’s just the nature of things. We all die.”

“No one has to die!” Isaac screamed back.

“You sound like your dead wife.”

Melanie

Three years ago she had died, killed by empire soldiers when Isaac had refused to follow through with an order to slaughter a small village. The empire razed the village anyways, sparing none and burning the whole thing to the ground. His act of defiance against tyranny was pointless.
His wife was now dead.

He had killed her.

Perhaps not as directly as Sector 8, but his actions directly lead to her death. Or at least that’s what he convinced himself of. He never even had a chance to say goodbye, they parted on a sour note, an argument over something stupid before Isaac left to serve his final term with the Empire. All he wanted was one last kiss, one last warm embrace. That was why he was here, on this damn mission to find Omni.

He wanted to say he was sorry.

He wanted closure.

He wanted his wife.

Isaac struggled against the chains binding him. This was his mind and his body. He railed against the angel’s iron grip. He raged against the injustice of the world. He thrashed against every atrocity and every tragedy. Isaac was furious, his old body strained with the might of a thousand men against the deadlocked iron chains. Even still, willpower was little match against the awesome might of the angel. But in his struggles he forced his grip around Klaud to loosen, releasing the general. His body shivered and shook, a sign of the internal conflict taking place.

The old man tried not to break free, for that was a fool’s goal. No, he only tried to take what little control he could find. So long as he struggled his body could not move. No one was in control of his body, not the angel and certainly not himself. As long as he could do no harm he was content.

There would be no more blood spilled by Isaac’s hand.