Post by Hearst on May 13, 2017 2:35:15 GMT
He despised this country.
Even from hundreds of feet in the air from the window of his penthouse suite, Devin Hearst could find no inch of Japan bare of the stain. Just a pulsating mass of sludge dressed up in neon lights and fun songs like an ugly call girl. All flash, no substance. As he slipped his hand into the pocket of his black tailored suit pants, Hearst listened to a voice in his head repeat like droplets into a sink drain. He saw the face of agony, twisted and strained. This voice and face … they were not his own, but they were everything that he now was. Her voice gave him life like the beat of his heart. She had been hurting. She had hurt so much.
This was the country that broke her.
This country…
He bit down on the cigarette and took the ash in just a little harder. His breath was deep; the smoke as much of a part of him now as blood and bone. In moments he would descend on Osaka. In moments he would hold her in his arms once again; his love given form in the Global Championship. He could wait that long. In blinks of his eye men were born, aged and past. He remembered as the ground cooled around him. He could wait a little longer.
“Everything has to be perfect.”
The ground shuddered with his voice. Like Fuji which watched in the distance, Hearst spoke in ash and fire.
“Every kick, sharpened. Every punch, clean. Every body, calculated. It takes more than brute force to take over a globe. It takes more than charisma. It takes a plan. Strategy. With the cleaver you can break the bones and carve the organs … but with the scalpel … you can harvest them for further use. Maybe you’ve learned that by now, Bianca? Maybe you all have. All of these soldiers preparing for a war, when in all truth … they’re walking into surgery.”
As he turned away from the floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the external wall of his suite to face the camera, there was no tingle in our spine. There wasn’t that itch one gets around a wild animal. Hearst held a calm found only in the dead. It was clear that while we would see a bloodbath, he would see only science.
He’d only see art.
“I’ve been planning all of this for a year, now. My masterpiece. The perfect culmination of the universe. Global Takeover will be a dissection I’ve mapped down to the smallest tendon and nerve, but all journeys begin with a first step. For a feat this … beautiful … the first stroke must be perfect. This is why I chose you, Ms. Reed. You are perfect. Such tragedy and beauty, strength and resolve all in one soul. She would only want you, and who am I to refuse?”
Another moment, another take from the cigarette and another breath let out into the haze gliding through the suite.
“It won’t be a gory affair, I assure you. Graphic, yes … but necessary. A series of small incisions until the final cut. The masterstroke in the tournament finals. The rest of the bodies I plan to throw on the pile, just as I said. You, Bianca? I’ll give you the place of honor you deserve. A true Viking burial; because you’ve proven you deserve Valhalla. Unfortunately, that’s all you’ll find … but it’s the best I can do. Please tell your teacher I tried. I’m only doing this as a favor, anyway.”
Hearst paced through the room lit only by the feint aura of the lights in busy Osaka. He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and dropped onto the leather sofa, leaning in and rested his chin on his folded hands.
“So many temporary faces walking into my home, eating and making merry like we weren’t here to begin with. You’ll hear the complaints about them, I bet. People don’t really grow to the idea that strangers can waltz into their promotion, throw a couple punches and walk on home with a pay day. Me? I’m banking on it. See there’s this little secret that only I know: the Global Championship isn’t a prize. It’s a weapon. A lure most intoxicating and undeniable. In your hands, she’s no more than leather scraps with gold trimmings … but in mine she comes alive. A faithful sword that I’ve already used to cut down four previous men, and this time will be no different.”
We couldn’t see his eyes in the shadow but we knew he was watching. He was always watching. The chuckle that escaped his lips was harsh and grated.
“They never see it coming. All the warning in the world and these brave, brave dumb asses stroll in like they’re going to do something different. They’re going to break the mold. You never know the dogs are on you until your throat’s already out. So let’s show the world my vision. Let’s build a shrine to pride, greed and ignorance together … and when we’re done … I’m going to fucking sacrifice you all on it. Don’t you worry, though … ”
Hearst leaned back, draping an arm across the back of the sofa; crossing one leg over the other. If it was possible to be more relaxed before a day of war, no man had come closer than Seven-Headed Beast.
“We’ll send your payment to your next of kin.”
