Post by Damien Kross, Jester on Mar 11, 2009 16:03:18 GMT -5
"Where are we...?"
No answer... I expected as much. This was his style. Lead me somewhere, no explanation, no clues- nothing. It was pretty obvious to me that this was another game.
"Answer me."
Again, nothing. Ugh... I was in no mood to deal with his manipulation... He however, was always up for playing, especially if he knew it was a bad time for me. Such a fun doppelganger.
The ground I stood upon was black and white checkerboard- marble I believe. It was the exact floor The Jester's Court in New York had before it was busted apart by Tiel and his entourage, Equilibrium. Little by little however, my surroundings became clearer... Familiar pillars- familiar statues- familiar paintings-
It WAS the Court.
But... it was slightly different... The statues, formerly of chess pieces and the poker suits were now of people... Four in all, each someone I knew very much about...
First, the statue of a slender man in a suit and fedora, his hands behind his back in a classic stance of class. His small, thin mustache and slicked back hair were all too familiar- my mentor, Ricardo DeLeon.
Second, a figure I was bewilered at the presence of... A young man, my age, clad in a cloak, made to appear as if it were blowing in the wind. His hair was long and blowing in the same invisible breeze, his hand covered in what appeared to be an armored glove or gauntlet- one of my oldest friends, Auroth...
Third, someone I had been seeing in heavy amounts as of late... As always, she stood as a force of power- her stance being one of crossed arms and stern glare. Her bracers were a dead giveaway, despite the uncanny likeness the statue portrayed- The School Captain, the Bone Dragon, Linda Osako.
Lastly, the one I expected... As always, a vision of beauty- blonde hair, a sly, mischevious smile- the girl who held my heart in a headlock for the majority of my high school life... Kate McHallin.
The paintings remained the same... Landscapes of a fantastical variety, each dealing with topics such as time, or chance, or destiny... The sort of things that kept the Court operational...
With no voice to guide me, I began to walk down the long hallway, not knowing what would be awaiting me... The original Court was one filled with puzzles, but being its creator, I knew all the answers... There would be no fun in that... So, it was natural to assume that THIS Court would be devoid of such trivialities.
I approached the massive double doors at the end of the hallway, taking a moment to look them over- to feel the cold touch of brass against my fingertips. Eventually, mustering the courage to push them open, I did-
-and found myself in the Throne Chamber...
Humph... He skipped all the obstacles and traps to send me straight to the end... How predictable. The long chamber was empty- nothing but massive marble pillars and an uncomfortable chill...
Then, suddenly, appearing before me- a massive mirror. It was easily as tall as I was, ornate and beautiful, it's frame being crafted of solid gold. The mirror reflected back at me everything a mirror should- except... it was a completely different color scheme... The white tiles were a deep purple, and the black tiles, normally a dark shade of gray, were pitch black... absolute darkness.
The reflection of myself was different a well... Same suit, same clothes, same hat... But my face was shrouded, covered by a face I had come to loathe... A mask, half white, half black- half comedy, half tragedy- the symbol of my insanity.
I walked closer to the mirror, not surprised at all when the mimic in the mirror did the same. Soon, face to face with my clone, I stared with down with a very unhappy glare.
"What is it THIS time Jester?"
The doppelganger giggled, now moving freely, no longer bound by the rules of the mirror.
Oh Damien, Damien, Damien... You really are quite clueless, aren't you?
"Explain yourself- now." My voice carried to theatrics, no humor, nothing but pure annoyance.
Pfft, I invite you over to my place for a little chat, and you speak to me so harshly? Humph, you aren't much of a guest...
"Now." I repeated. With a sigh and a shake of the head, he peered at me through the mask, his mouth surely curving into a smile underneath his false visage.
Your life has been quite... interesting lately, hm? I mean, you move to Long Beach from New York... The reason of course being that you little idol, Vaughn Clarke, got served up a slice of student body asskicking... Then, you reunite! You and that she-devil of a bitch, Ms. McHallin... Aww, love was in the air- crashing and burning into a smoldering heap of failure... Poor little you had your heart set on reclaiming the fair maiden... But alas, a skank will be a skank...
"Don't you dare talk about her that way." I warned him, my eyes showing that I spoke the truth.
Down boy... Can you blame me for being right? You blindly chase this girl while she's off having flings with little rich boys... On top of that, you ask her if there's hope in your relationship, and under the smoke and mirrors, she basically says "If you try hard enough to impress me." Am I right?
I offered no answer... I only looked down a bit awkwardly, unsure of his to answer.
Of course I'm right. So, you're head over heals for this bitch- she's out grinding more sausage than a New York deli- and yet... you can't stop following her like a sad little puppy dog... Christ... What happened to you Damien?
Again... no answer...
You've fallen from grace... A once proud angel, now, nothing but a sniveling, pathetic cherub, begging God for your wings back... Hah! Absolutely unbelievable...
"What do you want from me...?" I asked, growing tired of his insults.
What do I want? Damien, you're smarter than this... What have I always wanted? What have I always tried to take?
...I knew the answer.
I'm taking over Damien... You've become weak... and I won't take it anymore...
To my surprise, and not to mention utter dread, he stepped through the mirror- a feat previously unheard of... Never before had he crossed the threshold... Now, he stood before me, just two inches from my face...
The punch came from nowhere, crashing into my stomach with extreme force. With an echoing laugh, his assault continued- a thunderous uppercut to my chin, a right hook, and a spinning roundhouse kick... My body flew and skidded on the ground- his ability to enter the sanctum of my mind catching me off guard...
I struggled to get up, but once my eyes rose, I saw him running towards me- the shadow kick. As I expected, he leapt into the air and threw his attack, images of himself following in his wake. I rolled out of the way, his foot slamming into the marble, shattering it as though it were nothing.
"Why Jester?! Why now?!"
You're an embarassment... You follow what you can't have! you mope and beg and cry and plead as though you were some common piece of filth... But no longer Damien. Your tarnish my name- I will stand for it no more.
His next attack came at me- a spinning move formerly known as Jester's Fist. His body would twist over and over in the air like a powersaw, his arms limp at his sides, the spinning motion making them dangerous, whip-like weapons. I put up a defence, but his attack, followed by a swift twin-kick combination, sent me to the ground again.
Defeat was certain... I had no clue how much longer I could hold out... But I had to try... That much, I knew as a fact...
= = = = =
In the world we know to be reality... Alone in his apartment, a young man sleeps on the floor, curled in a ball- an empty bottle of Vodka in his clutches- tears staining his cheeks.
When he awakens, the one called Damien Kross would be tucked away in hiding- trapped behind the glass surface of a mirror- begging to be allowed exit.
The ultimate charade was about to appear.
The ultimate vengeance was about to be taken.
The ultimate revolution was about to begin.
No answer... I expected as much. This was his style. Lead me somewhere, no explanation, no clues- nothing. It was pretty obvious to me that this was another game.
"Answer me."
Again, nothing. Ugh... I was in no mood to deal with his manipulation... He however, was always up for playing, especially if he knew it was a bad time for me. Such a fun doppelganger.
The ground I stood upon was black and white checkerboard- marble I believe. It was the exact floor The Jester's Court in New York had before it was busted apart by Tiel and his entourage, Equilibrium. Little by little however, my surroundings became clearer... Familiar pillars- familiar statues- familiar paintings-
It WAS the Court.
But... it was slightly different... The statues, formerly of chess pieces and the poker suits were now of people... Four in all, each someone I knew very much about...
First, the statue of a slender man in a suit and fedora, his hands behind his back in a classic stance of class. His small, thin mustache and slicked back hair were all too familiar- my mentor, Ricardo DeLeon.
Second, a figure I was bewilered at the presence of... A young man, my age, clad in a cloak, made to appear as if it were blowing in the wind. His hair was long and blowing in the same invisible breeze, his hand covered in what appeared to be an armored glove or gauntlet- one of my oldest friends, Auroth...
Third, someone I had been seeing in heavy amounts as of late... As always, she stood as a force of power- her stance being one of crossed arms and stern glare. Her bracers were a dead giveaway, despite the uncanny likeness the statue portrayed- The School Captain, the Bone Dragon, Linda Osako.
Lastly, the one I expected... As always, a vision of beauty- blonde hair, a sly, mischevious smile- the girl who held my heart in a headlock for the majority of my high school life... Kate McHallin.
The paintings remained the same... Landscapes of a fantastical variety, each dealing with topics such as time, or chance, or destiny... The sort of things that kept the Court operational...
With no voice to guide me, I began to walk down the long hallway, not knowing what would be awaiting me... The original Court was one filled with puzzles, but being its creator, I knew all the answers... There would be no fun in that... So, it was natural to assume that THIS Court would be devoid of such trivialities.
I approached the massive double doors at the end of the hallway, taking a moment to look them over- to feel the cold touch of brass against my fingertips. Eventually, mustering the courage to push them open, I did-
-and found myself in the Throne Chamber...
Humph... He skipped all the obstacles and traps to send me straight to the end... How predictable. The long chamber was empty- nothing but massive marble pillars and an uncomfortable chill...
Then, suddenly, appearing before me- a massive mirror. It was easily as tall as I was, ornate and beautiful, it's frame being crafted of solid gold. The mirror reflected back at me everything a mirror should- except... it was a completely different color scheme... The white tiles were a deep purple, and the black tiles, normally a dark shade of gray, were pitch black... absolute darkness.
The reflection of myself was different a well... Same suit, same clothes, same hat... But my face was shrouded, covered by a face I had come to loathe... A mask, half white, half black- half comedy, half tragedy- the symbol of my insanity.
I walked closer to the mirror, not surprised at all when the mimic in the mirror did the same. Soon, face to face with my clone, I stared with down with a very unhappy glare.
"What is it THIS time Jester?"
The doppelganger giggled, now moving freely, no longer bound by the rules of the mirror.
Oh Damien, Damien, Damien... You really are quite clueless, aren't you?
"Explain yourself- now." My voice carried to theatrics, no humor, nothing but pure annoyance.
Pfft, I invite you over to my place for a little chat, and you speak to me so harshly? Humph, you aren't much of a guest...
"Now." I repeated. With a sigh and a shake of the head, he peered at me through the mask, his mouth surely curving into a smile underneath his false visage.
Your life has been quite... interesting lately, hm? I mean, you move to Long Beach from New York... The reason of course being that you little idol, Vaughn Clarke, got served up a slice of student body asskicking... Then, you reunite! You and that she-devil of a bitch, Ms. McHallin... Aww, love was in the air- crashing and burning into a smoldering heap of failure... Poor little you had your heart set on reclaiming the fair maiden... But alas, a skank will be a skank...
"Don't you dare talk about her that way." I warned him, my eyes showing that I spoke the truth.
Down boy... Can you blame me for being right? You blindly chase this girl while she's off having flings with little rich boys... On top of that, you ask her if there's hope in your relationship, and under the smoke and mirrors, she basically says "If you try hard enough to impress me." Am I right?
I offered no answer... I only looked down a bit awkwardly, unsure of his to answer.
Of course I'm right. So, you're head over heals for this bitch- she's out grinding more sausage than a New York deli- and yet... you can't stop following her like a sad little puppy dog... Christ... What happened to you Damien?
Again... no answer...
You've fallen from grace... A once proud angel, now, nothing but a sniveling, pathetic cherub, begging God for your wings back... Hah! Absolutely unbelievable...
"What do you want from me...?" I asked, growing tired of his insults.
What do I want? Damien, you're smarter than this... What have I always wanted? What have I always tried to take?
...I knew the answer.
I'm taking over Damien... You've become weak... and I won't take it anymore...
To my surprise, and not to mention utter dread, he stepped through the mirror- a feat previously unheard of... Never before had he crossed the threshold... Now, he stood before me, just two inches from my face...
The punch came from nowhere, crashing into my stomach with extreme force. With an echoing laugh, his assault continued- a thunderous uppercut to my chin, a right hook, and a spinning roundhouse kick... My body flew and skidded on the ground- his ability to enter the sanctum of my mind catching me off guard...
I struggled to get up, but once my eyes rose, I saw him running towards me- the shadow kick. As I expected, he leapt into the air and threw his attack, images of himself following in his wake. I rolled out of the way, his foot slamming into the marble, shattering it as though it were nothing.
"Why Jester?! Why now?!"
You're an embarassment... You follow what you can't have! you mope and beg and cry and plead as though you were some common piece of filth... But no longer Damien. Your tarnish my name- I will stand for it no more.
His next attack came at me- a spinning move formerly known as Jester's Fist. His body would twist over and over in the air like a powersaw, his arms limp at his sides, the spinning motion making them dangerous, whip-like weapons. I put up a defence, but his attack, followed by a swift twin-kick combination, sent me to the ground again.
Defeat was certain... I had no clue how much longer I could hold out... But I had to try... That much, I knew as a fact...
= = = = =
In the world we know to be reality... Alone in his apartment, a young man sleeps on the floor, curled in a ball- an empty bottle of Vodka in his clutches- tears staining his cheeks.
When he awakens, the one called Damien Kross would be tucked away in hiding- trapped behind the glass surface of a mirror- begging to be allowed exit.
The ultimate charade was about to appear.
The ultimate vengeance was about to be taken.
The ultimate revolution was about to begin.
