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I like the way you say Human history, as if it's impressive. Human history can be summed up as a blade of grass in the field of time, and not an impressive blade of grass either. Yet there is one attribute Humans have that does impress me--an infinite capacity for darkness, surpassed only by the human desire for control. You rail against the ending of life, yours or another's, as if your petulant thrashing could stop it. Only the Reaper has any control.
The more you thrash the more your despair grows. The closer those you care for come to death, the more your heart sinks and where, prey tell, does a sunken heart end up? Shrouded in darkness and writhing in a vat of rage. All it takes to tap that beautiful potential is a little nudge and all your control crumbles around you like the house of cards it is.
Tell me again Mr. Saunders, about your will power. Are you willing to trade the life of your wife for the life of one girl who once fancied herself a hero? Think about the reason you put me on. It's close, you can feel it. The God's Eye is watching. What's one more Akuma between friends?
Oh yes--give me all your impotent rage. How long did it take for us to get here? How long before you realized what you should have always known, but were too blinded by your need to control to understand? You came to Solar City because you thought it might weaken my control, but you don't understand. Solar City only negates powers not necessary for life.
I AM your life. Take me off. It will be like ripping out your own heart and you'll die pathetically, whimpering on the floor, estranged from your daughter. Your wife will die. Or...
One more time.
Stygian Moth stood in the center of a house that was no longer a home. The mansion may as well have been empty for all the love it contained. Pictures on the walls and tables were turned around so eyes could not see the images they contained. Every mirror was broken or covered with a black sheet. Even the grand piano was out of tune, were someone to play it. He had been standing, velvet gloved hands atop his cane, for the last twenty minutes. He had said nothing after Kelly was brought before him, he looked at her but his eyes were distant, as if he wasn't seeing her at all.
He stood in the manner of a prideful man but it was a visible shell. His body was emaciated, his eyes sunken. He had the pallor of a terminal cancer patient. Sometimes, when he blinked, his eyes would change and become impossibly old and impossibly maleficent. When they were normal, they were just--forlorn.
"Of course we'll have to take her out of here. The God's Eye won't work properly in Solar City." He wasn't looking at anyone when he finally spoke. He was about to say something else when there was a knock at the door. He hesitated and belatedly remembered he'd sent the house staff away. He took a breath, as if the effort of walking to the door was nearly too much and turned away from the two girls in the middle of the room.
Stygian Moth strode across the room and something dark followed in his shadow. He put his hand on the door knob and wondered who the hell would be interrupting and why the hell they were knocking. He nearly left the door. His other hand lifted to the Numinous Stone he wore at the center of his cravat and something within him, something he'd forgotten about two years ago, penetrated the shroud around his weakening heart.
Where had that come from? Why did it make him want to open the door? These were questions he wanted to ask but instead he acted, he didn't open the door, he flung it open so that it slammed into the wall. For the briefest moment in his life, he sensed something on the other side of that door. The smallest chance, the slightest possibility...
That this would all finally end.
The Stygian Moth clamped down on that idea and surged forward anew, enshrouding a weak man's heart once more and reminding him of all his silly ideas of control and how fragile they really were.
The door had some help in opening. A foot connected with it and drove the door even faster than he'd already intended. As he was stepping away from the door it caught him across the face and sent him stumbling backward. It also activated his fight or flight instincts. He drew the sword from his cane and used it to stop his backward momentum, driving it into the tiled floor like a wedge. He stood still a moment, feet planted on the tile and opened his senses to his apparent enemy, wondering what kind of emotional darkness lay within the man's mind.
- Lord of Nothing
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