by GoozX
Turner:
We walk down the darkened streets of the City of Angels, a unique name for such a city. Working with the government, I learned all too well the secrets of such a place, things that would make normal folks go nuts, put bullets in their own heads. Los Angeles holds such dark secrets.
Murder, rape, kidnapping, suicide, muggings: these are the crimes of a normal city, a normal town. I WISH those were the worst things I have seen here. The title City of Angels; so very ironic, as with the demons I have seen in people here. The metagene? Maybe. Hell demons? If I believed in Hell, I would say so.
I wonder how Cicciotto would react to the truth of this city. In a twisted way, I believe it would reinforce his faith. I wish I could see things through his eyes, if only for a day. I have seen too much pain, have gone through too much. Faith, people reinforcing what they think they should believe. If they really believed these so-called facts, then they wouldn't need faith; they would simply be content with what they know.
"Follow me," I tell him, the first thing I have said in the last hour. We are both tired and healing, slowly at least.
We enter a bar. I can think of NO better place to relax for a little bit. If we stay in the shadows, we will not get any unneeded attention from the local police, something I don't think we can afford now, not until my job's finished, at least. Hopefully, we can stay away from what hides in the shadows. I doubt it, but I guess I can hope for the better, even if I don't believe it.
We finally make it to the bar; I place two fingers up. The bartender knows what I want from the look in my eyes. Eddy doesn't agree, to my surprise.
The whiskey is poured. The bartender leaves the bottle closed. I can't wait to see how he reacts when he finds out we can't pay for it. Ed half-laughs; he is thinking the same thing as I am.
"Cheers." We both drink.
When our glasses hit the counter top, I sense Cicciotto is curious about something. But he stops himself from asking it. He has done this multiple times over our travels. I know what he wants to ask. I just don't think I have an answer he wants. I guess I could give it a try; in a way, I owe him that.
"You want to know why I attacked you and your friends." I am straight to the point.
"Yeah, I would like to know."
I take my time, pouring us both another glass. "Truth be told, I didn't plan on attacking you." This raises an eyebrow from him, but he doesn't question me. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Isn't that how it always is?" he says, his voice only half-serious.
"I guess so." We drink again. "I had found out the truth about myself. My past was a fairy tale. I was a creation of a madman, for a madman. Everything I ever believed was false. Ed, have you ever lost everything?"
He nods his head. "My metagene. It cost me the honor of my country. It cost me my faith for a time being. I turned to drugs to ease the pain."
It appears we are a bit more similar than I would have ever thought.
"I lashed out, to say the least." I pause and pour us another drink. "In a dark twist, I fought back at the world that created me. Truth, justice, faith -- I lost everything. I could only hope for revenge. After all, I lost myself; I never even had what you would call a soul."
He attempts to interrupt me, but I sign for him to give me another minute.
"Ed, I killed my 'father' and hundreds of other people. I took down the whole MCCA complex. Who knows how many of them were just as innocent as I thought I was? Family men, working to support their families, also fighting for truth and justice."
Ed is silent. I drink again. He doesn't; he's in deep thought. I guess it's a bit of a surprise to him that I took down the MCCA.
"So. Still think I got a soul?" I ask. I pour myself another drink.
After a brief pause he answers me.
"Yeah, I do." I don't answer, how is he gonna explain this? "Turner... we are not perfect. We only do what we can, what we believe is right. We all have darkness within us. That is what being human is. A soul does not equal good, but gives you a choice between good and evil. What direction you take is up to you."
Now he drinks his glass, and then continues, "In the arena, I saw you kill children. I would have never done that. Years ago I would have thought you were a soulless bastard. Recently, I have found out that the world is not as black and white as that. Our soul is what causes the gray area. I couldn't have killed those children. But, for their own sake, it NEEDED to be done. If you were soulless, as you say, you would not have thought twice about just leaving, or killing mass amounts of people with no guilt."
I listen, taking everything in.
"When I look into your eyes, I see pain. As you just told me about those you killed, I could feel the guilt that you feel. If you're soulless, then so am I. Every life taken in Chicago is on my shoulders. Till the day I die, I will be fighting to redeem who I am and what I stand for. Now, the question needed to be asked is: will you do the same?"
I am silent. I raise my glass without saying a word. He knows my answer even without the words spoken. We drink and slam our glasses onto the counter. I turn, and the bartender has a rifle to my face.
"You meta freak! This is for my fellow HUMANS from Chicago!"