Aug 3, 2019
Strangetown, The Westside Wastes, Murodia
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Strangetown, The Westside Wastes, Murodia
“What a shit ass town.” Samus grumbled, of course that madman would hide in a sulfur ripe stinkhole like this. It was indeed the right place though, she could feel it. Everything inside her could feel the pulsating call of the void. It wasn’t far, Madden had given her what she needed but still she felt some hesitation. Some pause. There was good reason Papa Bash had never come back here. The blasphemies committed to this soil had scarred the place just as it had his face and she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to know.
It just itched at her, the way finding her mother did. She just had to know why they were what they were. Why she was what she was and that all, well that all started here.
As she cleared the flames two figures came into focus. She had never met her grandfather personally. He died before her birth but Sam guessed that the younger had to be him. His arm was stretched in aggression. “Why?! Why would you do this?!”
“Curious... how did you escape the facility?” The other man looked more amused than anything. His sly smile made her shiver in disgust. That one must be Maddox. The madman that begat the worst plague of the modern age and her great-grandfather. “I would have thought the security there would have at least kept you occupied a bit longer.”
“I - I don’t know how I got here... I just knew I needed to be here.. for them and I thought for you..” Bastian’s hands began to curl. “but I guess I was wrong...just as I’ve always been wrong about you...”
Her grandfather’s old home was nothing as she thought it’d be. With the way she felt standing there she expected land barren and broken but before her was soft turf and manicured scape. The pristine nature of it all almost made her want to turn away... She had sacrificed so much to get here though so despite her reservations it was time to begin.
“Olfathers, Almothers, songs sung of old. Let your music ring, let your story be told.”
“But take this advice, if I have any and you are seeking it know this - you will live a thousand lives and die a thousand times. You will watch those you love wither while you carry on with no relief. There will come a time when you will beg for death and it will find you lacking. The Black keeps its own close and it will not let you be until its own work in you is done.” Maddox raised his arm with slight care, “But for now I will give you what peace I can, a rest you’ll never know again. You are weak, please now sleep.”
“I do not know why you think we have to suffer...” The boy whimpered, “Even if it’s true what you say, you could at least guide us with kindness. Don’t you have any compassion?!”
“There is no compassion for our kind, not in generations.” The elder sighed, “Not for our cursed line.”
With a flash Bash was at the older man’s throat. “I do not care for your riddles or lies. You say this... THIS was necessary?! My brother.. your son... he may not make it... he couldn’t breathe in the smoke.”
“Then perhaps he should not.” The elder replied flatly, “That weakness will only contribute to his suffering.”
Without a word Bastian’s fist met skin and his father recoiled on his feet.
“What does weakness matter?” The younger snapped, “It is not as though you have provided us with any strength of spirit. You have only ever criticized and humiliated us. What kind of creatures did you expect to beget but wounded animals with such action? Do you not understand this? Do you not care for us at all?!”