Warning: DEATHFIC!!!! Don't read if you are depressed. Dark, angsty. May be a bit confusing
(it's getting late)
Disclamer: Not mine, not for profit.
Archive: GW Addiction and anyone else generous enough :)
C&C requested!
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Blood of the Unicorn
By Lady Murasaki ([email protected])
?Forgive me, father, for I have sinned?
I go through the protocol of confession and, if I try hard enough, I can imagine the priest
standing next to my kneeling form, blessing me. But there is no priest, no faith, no
absolution. Innocence lost, the unicorn slaughtered ? I destroyed them all.
I fought in this war, not because I enjoyed killing. I didn?t. But, at the tender age of 15,
I was looking for a reason to live, a higher cause to dedicate myself to. I needed a goal
that I could believe in, that could make my life worth living again. ?Fighting for the
freedom of the colonies? ? the phrase had a nice ring to it. Fighting to procure peace for
the people seemed like a goal that would restore my faith. So I became a soldier; one of the
elite five chosen to fight with the ultimate weapons ? the Gundams. I wasn?t as fanatical a
Heero, a idealistic as Quatre, as hell-bent on justice as Wufei, or a nebulous as Trowa. But
I had my beliefs (or so I thought) and I was good at what I did. That was enough fo those in
charge.
The months that followed were highlighted by my baptism. Yes, I was baptized again ? in the
blood of people I killed. Dozens, hundreds of people died at my hands. I didn?t desire to
spill their blood. But I always reminded myself tht they were soldiers, same as I was. As
such, we were prepared to give our lives each time we went out into the battlefield. Soldiers
died in wars, that was in their job descriptions. I understand now that it was all a lie I
made up to delude myself, but back then I believed it. This logic was the only way I could
keep my sanity in that insane world. It was a line I?d drawn for myself. As long as my only
victims were other soldiers, I was one step above being a mass murderer. As long as innocent
bystanders didn?t suffer I wasn?t quite a common criminal yet. Wishful thinking as I found
out in the end, but it pulled me through for a while. This all changed with one mission.
The mission was clear and simple ? an assassination. I?d done those before. The only
difference with this assignment was that it involved a prominent politician, not a military
commander as usual. By way of explanation, the orders said the guy was a traitor who had sold
some important secrets to OZ. I wasn?t particularly surprised ? I had found already that
people would buy or sell most anything if the price were right. I did my homework on the
target. He inhabited a rather spacious house on the outskirts of Paris. His wife and son
lived with him.
My plan was simple. Go to Paris, complete the mission, get out. I found out that the
politician?s family would be gone in the next few days. The timing was perfect ? I didn?t
want to endanger civilians needlessly. There was a safehouse buried deeply in the mountains
of Switzerland where I?d rendezvous with my fellow pilots. Like I said, simple. I should
have known about the best laid plans of mice and men.
I made my way into the house without a hitch. In fact, it was almost diappointingly easy ?
what with my experience at lock picking and all. Gun at the ready, I examined the place room
by room. It was deserted, except for my quarry; I tracked him down to the study on the second
floor. Soundless, I walked into the room, closing the door behind me. It should have been a
piece of cake. He was sitting at his desk, his back turned to me. Just take aim, shoot him
in the head execution-style, get out. It should have been easy. He heard me and turned
around.
I had killed so many before this. But I had never before seen my opponents? faces. They
remained anonymous, faceless ghosts in the back of my head, filed away under the casualties of
war. I never had to see the fear and panic in their eyes when they knew they were going to
die. It was this anonymity of the enemy that was largely responsible for my staying in this
business for as long as I had. I was sixteen years old, for crying out loud! People?s faces
contorted with animal fear was not what I liked to see in dreams, soldier or not.
When the subject of my mission turned around, I was expecting to see terror in his face. I?d
been prepared for that, sort of. He didn?t look scared at all. Instead, his expression
became almost resigned when he saw me ? and the weapon in my hand.
?I should have known they?d come for me. I just didn?t realize they sent kids to do the dirty
work.? Was that contempt in his voice I was hearing? For once, I was at a loss for words.
What do you say to the guy you?re about to shoot point blank? I closed my eyes and squeezed
the trigger before my determination could waver. Mission complete. I should have left then,
but an unexpected wave of nausea swept over me, setting my teeth and nerves on edge. I stood
there, still gripping my gun, trying to get a handle on myself.
The door behind me slammed shut. I whirled around and fired before I even saw who it was.
Strange, I?d never been a trigger-happy type. I suppose it was the tension of the murder
that had sent me over the edge of self-control
There were no OZ soldiers, or cops, in the doorway.
No one had sabotaged my mission.
There was a young woman in a white silk dress, and now there was a huge crimson rose blooming
in the center of her chest. I had always been a good shot. She looked at me with an
expression of infinite surprise before she slowly slid down to fall on the carpeted floor. I
stood, staring, before dropping the gun and racing over to her. I tried to stop the blood.
I was too damn good a shot. She was dead. She was dead? She. Was. Dead.
I didn?t know how much time passed while I knelt on the floor, paralyzed with the reality of
what I?d done. I could have been discovered by OZ twenty times then and I wouldn?t have even
twitched a muscle had they walked through the door. It was at least several hours later when
I finally found the energy to move. I vaguely remembered that the mission orders asked for
any papers or data disks I?d find in the guy?s office. Acting on autopilot, I grabbed
whatever my fogged brain deemed relevant. Still on autopilot, I made my escape.
I had stashed a motorcycle nearby and now I rode it to the train station. I had bought the
ticket in advance, and so I got on the train to Geneva without trouble. Sometime the next
day, I made my way to the safehouse. There, I found that the other pilots had all been called
away on some urgent mission. I had the place all to myself and my demons. I checked my email
for any emergencies and was surprised to find I?d been give a couple of weeks off. This would
be a welcome respite, I thought. Little did I know?.
Our latest safehouse was in the shape of a small log cabin deep in the Alps. The area was
nothing short of breathtaking. Forest-covered mountains with crowns of snow glistening on the
tops, lakes with incredibly clear blue water, and an occasional waterfall modestly hidden from
prying eyes by the surrounding woods and rocks. Yes, this place was soul-shatteringly
beautiful, and the atmosphere had a delightfully primeval, untouched quality about it. Away
from civilization here, I could fantasize about peace and life without war. My reality was
always colored red with blood.
Several days into my sudden vacation, and I was already running out of things to do. I did
some exploring around the cabin, but there was only so much I could do before I started
climbing walls. In an attempt to entertain myself, and to try to take my mind off painful
thoughts, I started going through the documents I had taken from the French politician?s home.
There was nothing special at first and I began to wonder why the doctors would want this stuff
at all. Until I came across a data disk I?d taken from his computer. It was encrypted, but
I?d spent enough time around Heero to pick up some of his hacking skills. I had the time and
I was curious ? the disk didn?t stand a chance. It took several days, but I finally cracked
the code. The disk turned out to contain the guy?s personal journal. I was almost
disappointed at first, but after I read a few random entries, my disappointment was replaced
by utter horror.
June 1st, A.C. 196
Made another call to Ms. Peacecraft. Looks like she is with me on this. She seems an
intelligent woman. Maybe together we?ll be able to put an end to this senseless war.
June 10th, A.C. 196
The talks are progressing well, although way too slowly for my liking. I see the need for
secrecy in this, but I do wish we wouldn?t have to be so covert about the whole thing. Hell,
we are about to stop the was, not to betray anyone!
June 25th, A.C. 196
I?ve been warned that there?s a traitor among us. Who? Why? Who?d want to continue this
madness? I can?t imagine anyone actually benefitting from it.
July 6th, A.C. 196
We have been forced to stop the negotiations until the mole is found. I hope this matter is
resolved soon as there isn?t any time left to waste. Haven?t enough people died already?
As I read the sentences, I began to wonder more and more exactly why I had been sent to kill
this man. As far as I could see from his journal, he had been anything but a traitor. Was it
possible that some terrible mistake had been made? Could it be I actually murdered _two_
innocent people in cold blood? The idea nearly made me sick on the spot. However, it wasn?t
utnil later that my truly horrible doubts began to surface. I read the dead man?s journal and
filed away the clues he?d found as to the identity of the real traitor. Finally, I reached
the last entry, made just before his ? death. He?d discovered who the mole was. His
suspicion was so outrageous it had to be either true, or the ravings of a madman. Some sixth
sense told me it was the former, as much as I wished otherwise. My discovery sent me reeling.
The very foundations of my world were crumbling. There was only one way to disprove, or
confirm, his hypothesis. I hoped I would succeed, at the same time dreading the consequences
if I did.
I spent the next found sleepless days hacking into the doctors? private network. Like I said,
I?d spent too much time around Heero not to pick up some of his tricks. Hacking the network
was tough, but after some persistence I was in. They?d gotten too arrogant about their
security, though. Once I penetrated the outer defenses, there was nothing to stop me from
prowling around inside. I suppose they thought no one would be able to break their code. Too
bad, their loss. And mine, as I found out after I took a look at a few files in Dr. J?s
personal directory. With mounting horror I slowly unearthed more and more proof to support
the dead politician?s theories. Several emails later, I had the proof he?d been a hundred
percent right. And, as evidence mounted, I could feel the last remains of my beliefs and
ideals slip away like puffs of smoke into thin air, an illusion of things that had never been.
I staggered to my feet and out of the cabin, oblivious of the downpour outside.
I sat down agains the wall of the house, drawing knees up against chest, hugging my arms
around my body. The rain soaked my to the bones, but I didn?t care. I kep thinking about the
one who orchestrated this entire catastrophe. The traitor? The full implications of my
knowledge suddenly hit me. This ? person ? was so high above all of us that even I came out
with the truth, no one would believe my accusations. And chances were I?d end up like the
Frenchman long before I could make any of this public. The enormity of what was happening was
to overwhelming and stomach wasn?t strong enough to handle the stress.
I sat back against the wall, chest still hurting from the spasms. Rain was pouring down my
bangs and mixing with my tears. ?Boys don?t cry.? Just another lie, like so many others.
Besides, had I ever really been a boy?
When I still lived the Maxwell church, Sister Helen would sometimes gather us around her and
tell us stories. They ranged from historical accounts to faery tales and I had been
fascinated by them. I used to close my eyes when I went to bed and imagine the fantastical
beasts and people of the legends ? dragons, fair maidens, knights in shining armor, unicorns.
Unicorns held a particularly special place in my heart. I was attracted by their supposed
beauty , grace, and elegance. According to Sister Helen, unicorns were rare beasts,
symbolizing purity and innocence. To kill a unicorn was the ultimate goal of many a man in
medieval times. Not really understanding the symbolim, I nevertheless swore solemnly that I
would never ever hurt a unicorn, or shed its blood. Sister laughed then and said that
unicorns were probably all exinct because no one had seen them for centuries. I said no way,
there had to be at least a few of them around still, otherwise what would happen to the things
that they stood for? I didn?t understand why she blinked rather rapidly then and hugged me
and said there?d always be unicorns as long as I believed in them. I didn?t understand then
what she meant, but over the years the unicorn became something of an elusive goal for me. I
liked to believe that as long as I did what was right the unicorn would be out there
somewhere, watching over me. This magnificent creature of magic was like a precious fragile
thing, easily destroyed and, God knew, I came close to killing my unicorn many times. But I
had thought that I always managed to pull back just in time. Now I knew I was wrong. It was
raining and the silvery liquid pooling around me was the blood of the last unicorn.
The next couple of days were pure nightmare for me. I couldn?t sleep, eat ? live. I spent
all my time wandering the cabin?s grounds in a semi-delirium. I felt completely detached from
reality, but every time I closed my eyes I saw the face of that man and his wife. Their eyes
haunted me day and night; they seemed to be accusing me, I could feel the hatred emanating
from the very air around me. A murderer, that?s all I was, nothing more than a common
criminal. I had always been afraid I?d step over the boundary I?d drawn for myself and now I
did. The longer I contemplated what was happening, though, the clearer I saw that there never
was a boundary to be crossed. I stepped over the line the minute I decided to become a
soldier. I?d been foolish to believe that peace could be achieved through war. I?d been even
more foolish to think that a war could be started and fought for a noble cause. No war, no
cause in the world, could justify killing of people, even of one person. It was criminally
na�ve of me to hope that I could murder innocents and still retain _my_ innocence. How could
I have believed in unicorns if I had helped criminals perpetrate their heinous acts? Because
al the evidence I uncovered showed this war was nothing but a bunch of vultures fighting over
carrion, a pack of dogs trying to get at a bone, a struggle for power, a?. Enough! I knew
enough to make me shudder in horror and disgust at what I had become. At what all five of us
had become.
I stood on a naturally formed rocky terrace overlooking a picturesque waterfall. As I
listened to the sound of water dropping a hundred feet to the rocks below, I wondered what I
was going to do next. I had been looking for a reason to go on living but now, with all my
beliefs lying in ruins, I saw that there was none. I looked around and breathed the crystal
clear mountain air. The land around me was beautiful, but I was not a part of it. I watched
the woods for a while, vaguely hoping that a unicorn would come out to greet me. Then I
remembered that there were no unicorns, no magic left for me.
I looked at the falling water again ? it was so clear, so pure, so _clean_. The story of the
proverbial washing off of the sins came to mind suddenly. If I could partake of this ?
virginal ? essence, then perhaps I could wash off my sins and obtain absolution. I suppose I
became a little deranged at that point for I began to imagine that the glittering cascades of
waterfall were the unicorn?s blood once again. I sank to my knees, trying to drive the
terrifying images away. My mind cleared after a while, but my decision was made.
I moved to the edge of the cliff. I could feel the droplets of water on my skin. I knelt on
the grass, and went through the ritual of confession ? the first one since I left Maxwell
church years ago. I closed my eyes and the rays of the sun felt like an angel?s wings
enveloping me. Slowly, I straightened up again and took one last look around. I didn?t leave
a note for the others ? they wouldn?t understand, anyway.
I take a deep breath ? and step over the edge. I start falling but I never hit the water.
Gracefully, I begin to rise again and I can hear soft whisper of feathers. Wings. I have
wings. I am one with the skies. I glance down and I see a snow-white unicorn making his way
toward me. In a moment of terrifying clarity I have a glimpse of the future and I see that
Relena Peacecraft will not enjoy the power she will get by stepping in the blood of people
that die because of her thirst for power. I feel at peace now, the unicorn has survived. I
smile beatifically. And I fall into the whirlpool of waters below.
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