Didn’t you know I was waiting on you?
Waiting on a dream that would never come true
Didn’t you know I was waiting on you?
My face turned to stone when I heard the news …
I should have fucking known that the memories of the past year were too good to be true. Too much fucking perfection is always followed by an even bigger shitload of bullshit. Their perfect New England house and trust funds. The smell of old money: hardwood flooring, stone facades and manicured lawns on grounds way too fucking big to be real.
The feeling of inadequacy was bad enough. But didn’t they remember the crack addled little shit their daughter was before she met me? The worst part is that I know the dude she's going to be with. Trip Astor: hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of prep school and tutors; centuries of American blue blood.
…And my head keeps spinning,
Can’t stop having these visions …
A vision of light is what she was, but she wasn’t always. Bitch looked a like a wreck when I first met her. First day of pre-law and she was as high as a kite.
It was a philosophy class. She sat behind me and I could tell she needed help. But I didn’t give her any, not the first time, or the second or third time. I can’t recall the exact day ‘we’ started, but I remember every detail.
Nobody in the lecture room thought it was odd that her head was on the desk, oblivious to what was going on in the lecture room. I guess people assumed she was on a downer, we had gotten used to her crazy shit.
“Soldier!”
The shock of a sudden 'sending* made me go rigid - reflex. My body had gone tense, ready for orders - training does that. My eyes widened when I noticed the sending was from Professor Cho, a tiny wisp of a woman. Almost two months of classes and I hadn’t noticed she was Society.
“Get her out and to the campus clinic now!”
The word-picture she 'sent made it clear who 'she' was. I remember being impressed that such a strong sense of command could come from such a tiny person.
It wasn’t until I slung 'her' over my shoulder that I noticed some shit. Girl was 5mm away from OD. Her skin was clammy and cold. My heightened senses picked up the other signs as well: slow pulse, odd breathing and a dozen other markers of a generally fucked up system.
The TA had had to take over the class, puzzled, while Professor Cho and I took 'her' to the clinic. In a few terse words, the Professor explained the situation to the doctor. Then she turned to me.
“Thanks for taking orders. I just assumed you would, sorry if it was an inconvenience”
“Always glad to serve.”
She snorted, a smile flickered across her lips as she murmured, “So stiff.” Before I could ask, she answered, “Third Society, Seer and Speaker.”
I almost saluted when she said she was both Seer and Speaker - most likely candidate, Master of both halves of her path. The Prof was levels above a simple Berserker like me. She flitted out without saying or 'sending another word.
I ended up staying by the princess’s bed till she woke up. Then I ended up helping her to her room. Then I got Reggie to take her to one of his support meetings, which took a great deal of convincing on both sides. We became friends and then rapidly became more. She and I became an item so smoothly I should have known it was too good to be true. And it was.
Why are you so paranoid?
Don’t be so paranoid...
…Baby, don’t worry about it
… Don’t even think about it
She said I shouldn’t worry about it. I tried not to. I stayed positive, it’s something that’s ground into you as a Berserker: stay cool and follow orders. I'm not that good at either, but God knows I try.
This is where trusting her got me: walking the streets of downtown DC with oddly appropriate music blaring from my mp3 player.
The shittiest part about the party earlier today wasn’t the announcement of the engagement. It wasn’t Trip’s honest apology after I walked out, or his refusal to retaliate after I decked him. I let my anger get the best of me, and I’d probably lose numbers. Losing numbers would have been totally worth it if she’d even tried to explain or talk to me at all.
She only played me into being there so she wouldn't have to tell me herself. It's fucking depressing man, trust me. I got my hopes us so high and... damn.
In retrospect, I guess it makes sense. Patrick Archibald Astor III, darling prince of the Astors. He's is my superior officer, a number 4. He's two numbers above me and only one away from Master. Grandson of the Strategos of North America and Intern to Junior Senator H. Parker-Kennedy, possible future President of the United States.
The guy has everything already. Why does he get to have her too? But hey, coming to think of it, what the hell made me think a Cuban kid had a chance?
A scrawny black dude stumbles into my path and leans in. Me wearing a blue blazer and khakis must've given him the wrong idea. I legit roll my eyes when he presses a knife against my belly, hiding the blade under his tattered coat. He smells like the bad side of four cheap liquor stores and a crack house.
I don’t give the guy a chance any sort of gracious request. I pulse menace at him and he falls backwards onto the ground, confused. He's probably wondering why his brain is telling him that I'm predator and he’s prey. I watch him trip and stumble as he runs away... and then I hear something.
The yahoo jerked one of my earplugs out. My hearing, heightened by the pulse, picks up sniffling and sobbing. Instinct makes me run towards it. When I get to it, I wish my instinct had shut up.
My eyes widen and I almost gag at what I find in a closed alley. The ghastly hue of the streetlights makes everything look surreal.
Bodies are ripped into halves and quarters, viscera and bone showing. The dark brown and gray walls are splattered with blood, a lot of blood.
Human bodies have an unbelievable amount of blood. Judging by the body parts this is about what? five bodies worth? - but then again, I don't really take the time to count.
In the center of the carnage only one man stands. He's a tough looking african-american gangster dude. His right arm is hanging limp, the fingers that are clutching a rifle are dark with blood. He's barely barely holding on to the firearm. His right leg is a mangled mess.
“What the f…” I begin to cuss before a sibilant voice cuts in.
“Oh dearie me, we were almossssst done. Where iss thisss one from!”
The gangster dude notices me for the first time. He's definitely not happy about it. Bloodshot eyes are wide open in horror.
“Run you fool, these…shit! … these things aren’t fucking playing Julio!... GO!!”
His last word ends in a gurgle. A thick black spike pierces through his ribcage with a wet sound. The sibilant voice shrieks hysterically, mad with glee.
“Oopsss, he looked away and he got ssssplit. I told him to pay attenssshhion.”
Homie drops to his knees before falling forward - that’s when I see what he was protecting from the darklings crowding the alley. A tiny white girl, barely 6 years old is crouched on the ground, smeared with grime. Her eyes are tightly shut and she’s sobbing softly.
In the night I hear ‘em talk,
Coldest story ever told
Somewhere far along this road
He lost his soul
To a woman so heartless
I'm dam sure haven’t lost my soul yet. I pull off my belt and pulse in a specific way. The Alchemyst construct responds, transmuting into a silvery white blade. I pray that today isn’t the day I die. I have to ascend to at least Gladiator before I do.
There’s no time to make a call for backup or think of a plan of attack. I don’t even have a shield, so my sword has to be enough. I just have enough time to kiss my Rosary before I charge.
“Freedom and Honour.” I murmur, pulsing as menacingly as I can whilst I race the dark tendrils reaching for the child.
“Berserkerrrr!!” the sibilant voice wails, “your kind weren't ssupposssssed to hear the child!”.
My blade hisses as it meets the first of the darklings, a skeletal insectoid. I feed amy pain and heartache into the blade and then give myself to a dance with death.
Somewhere deep inside me I know I have to last until the assault ceases.
If it will cease.
“You danccce pretty Bersserkerr. But you are only one, we arrre legion!”
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