::About Oceania Azure::
A new Smoke Twines tale that follows Tyeko, a charrie from the original Smoke Twines and others.
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Imagine a world with constant war. Imagine a world where madmen control vast empires. Imagine a world where a mere vapor can kill. This is the world of Oceania Azure.
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Smoke Twines: Oceania Azure
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Wednesday, April 23, 2003
Irieshu's craft hurtled across the Atlantic.
The world was concluding.
He gazed up at he darkened sky, still wondering, would there be enough time? Tyeko had barely begun his training program...he was hardly sharpened into the neccessary blade...Yet...Somehow, it would be required that Irieshu engage in this blade. The spiral coil of eixstence which consituted these mortal delimias...it was steadily reaching it's conclusion. People were accepting their death, their annhilation at Akira's hands, as the D.A. openly admitted that the final stand was approaching.
The final stand. Europe...he gazed at the map; another minute and he would contact surface, then a mere 20 seconds to Versailles...for the first moments in Irieshu's life, he felt the horrific posions of doubt flood into his heart. He had faith within his own soul, upon his shoulders all neccessary arrangements, any responsibility could not deride his confidence. But, this he was steadily concluding, the fate of this universe did not rest only on his weakened brow; it stood upon the shoulders of men far weaker than himself.
"Tyeko," eyes of a man carrying wizdoms curse met the arching horizon that constitued Europe, as the craft struck land, and erupted eastwards, over Spain, 10 seconds later across the Pyrenees, yet eternally slow as Irieshu realized he was already far to late, "I leave this world to you...I'm sorry. But I promise you...I will leave it healed. A virus murders a virus, Tyeko, but ultimately you will sacrifice them both for this world; I wish there were more time. But the Army will sweep Europe...it already has. My own confidence is distraught, the fragile bonds degrading...but I suppose this is only natural. This Age is about to end, and I will be damned if it's conclusion is not shaped solely by my hand; Tyeko, my suicide is upon me. I can not follow you beyond the borders of this era, I can not accompany you into the distraught society that will constitute the future...and I can not assist you in destroying the offspring of this generation. But Tyeko…you are my bullet into the future. The shot has been fired. And I have never missed.”
The craft’s engines erupted into a reversal pattern, the outer layers of the ship quaking beyond the meager passengers comprehension, although Irieshu knew full well it’s torment, yet the absorbers of the shock sacrificing themselves for those within. The vehicle dropped silently to the Earth, the appearance of a shuttle within, a solitary seat, and few basic controls. On the outside, it defined a rounded stone, paintless metal glowing darkly in it’s intense heat. The top quietly unhinged, slid silently open. Instantly, Irieshu hurtled from the confines, already aware of his location, at the foot of the Versailles H.Q. Every muscle within his body twitched, responding instantly to a command, as he pierced into the Entrance hall, the miserable deserted confines an exponent of the D.A.’s forsaken state. But there would be one man.
Irieshu mounted the steps. Hurtled upwards, the mere trifles of brick no match for his agility, and within a few seconds he had reached the top floor, his body rattled by his sudden explosive outburst, yet hardly diminished; such was merely considered a warm up.
Irieshu approached the doorway.
The rusted plate upon the door was barely discernible, even to those who knew what man resided within: Langley.
Irieshu quietly opened the door.
The man at the desk rose his head very quietly, and instantly confirmed Irieshu’s one true misgiving. The broken eyes of a man aware of his failure, and the resulting torment that would ensue, of his own twisted flaws that would ultimately cause the horrific annhilation of everything which he cared for. The benefits of leaderships were shaping the World to suit your purpose; the horrors rested in the time you made your mistake.
The man’s lips, paled, personifcation of his dyeing eyes, forced a saddened smile, “I was wondering how long before you arrived.”
“Langley…” Irieshu glanced at the man’s desk, devoid of all objects but a solitary shard of metal, an aged, rusted pistol, “What are the orders? What is the D.A.’s course of action, and has it already been instigated?”
Tears slowly trickled, tributaries to the underlying agony, from Langley’s eyes, “Oh, Irieshu, you always were the hero, weren’t you? But not even you can save us this time. Not even you can drag us from this edge…you tried, but I’m afraid I failed.”
“What are the plans? What orders did you give?”
“What would you do, Irieshu? What else could any man do? I’m faced with my annhilation; it’s sort of beautiful actually. If we win, I’ll be celebrated and cheered. If we lose, there won’t be anyone left to condemn me.”
Irieshu quietly rose the pistol from his holster, a fast yet slow motion, visible yet invisible, the grace of one without. He quietly leveled it with Langley’s eyes, the soulless chamber’s gaze meeting Langley’s own, “I will supply such retribution. What were your orders?”
“You believe in putting faith in the children, don’t you?” Langely’s lips split into a wider smile, as his eyes sunk inwards, shrinking into themselves, “You have to believe in the young, Right? They’ll lead us into a new generation! You do it, don’t you?! SO I CAN DO IT TO, right?! I’m just following your example, Irieshu. After all, I’m the leader, I’m the General, I’m the best, not you! I climbed the ladder, I made it here, and what did you do? You just flickered out. You and your “Masters” who couldn’t save anything! NO, maybe we’ll die, but in the end, at least I’ll have fought!”
“Van Horn…” Irieshu’s voice whispered in unison with his mind, “Oh dear god…”
“Oh, do you see a problem? It’s not like it really matters, does it? There’s only one course of action…we stand. And we die. And it’s better if the young die for the old, isn’t it?”
“You fool. You gave the final hour to Van Horn…you fool. He will act irrationally, and I can have no influence, I can have no influence…”
Langley’s eyes dissolved very furthur, as his voice cracked, “SEE? IT’S ALL ABOUT THE GLORY WITH YOU, ISN’T IT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA! It’s all about the glory! You just want to step in and save everybody at the last moment…s oyo ucan have all the credit afterwards!”
“There will be no me after this battle concludes.”
Langley’s lips spread as his mind inhibited ever proportionally, “Well, isn’t that just funny! Me neither!”
“I have to go…I have to go to the boy…” Irieshu’s mind struggle to focus, to comprehend the solitary threads now devoid of purpose, wandering yet destructive, all connected in their quite silence, steadily unraveling their companions in their mere existence.
The general’s body collapsed inwards, “No, no Irieshu, please…no, don’t leave me. Not here…they’re coming for me. Please…don’t just leave me. You can fix it, right Irieshu,” Langely clutched at the air with his trembling arms, “You can make it all better, just like you always do, just like you did in the begginning…you’ve got a plan, right, Irieshu? You’ve got a plan! Please…you have to save us. You have to,” The voice trembled, cracking on the border of emotion.
Irieshu gazed silently at the broken figure, his building nearly abandoned, his work forsaking his fallible presence in their endless struggle to survive.
“You fools aren’t planning any sort of pre-emptive strike?”
“Irieshu…”
“Answer me.”
“No…no, this war will conclude by Akira’s ordain. The final battle will commence with his mark.”
“Time…we need more time…the device, I have to recover it…and the boy…he has to, HAS to be trained just slightly further…”
“You put the fate of our lives on the shoulders of a child as well, Irieshu?” The General’s lips smiled weakly now, his eyes returned, his body composed, yet stil the mere shadow of a destroyed soul.
“No, Langely. The fate of our present should rest in the hands of the adults. ON this boy’s shoulder’s I’ve put our future.”
Langely’s eyes blinked very quietly, as his lips slowly gained a resolute composure, “Your going to do something very bad, aren’t you, Irieshu?”
Irieshu met the General’s eyes, “I’m going to risk the Earth’s destruction for its salvation. The gamble rests on the strength of a child.”
Langely’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension, “…Atmosphere.”
“The greatminds of our world will be completely annihilated, the soldiers consumed; The Earth will respawn from the ashes, led by a single man. But their will be no intelligence beyond his own, only those spawned after the initial strike…the Earth will be governed less, all leaders and those capable of coherent thought beyond the mere citizens themselves, will be consumed. That is the beauty of Atmosphere; it is built to destroy the Earth’s establishments. To give the survivors a free world to sculpt anew.”
“Unleash it NOW, Irieshu. We face annhilation; release it now!”
“No. The power of its release must be utilized as well; It must destroy the power of a monarchy, and consume that which remains in the wake.”
“I…I don’t understand…”
“Just know that should it be unleashed, there is but one line of blood that can stop it. However, while one of these bloods will face it in the future, the other would face it now; and Atmosphere must be not halted now.”
“Akira…”
Irieshu quietly placed the pistol into it’s holster, gazing quietly into the eyes of the damned.
“Good-bye, Langely. They will come soon…a week at most.”
“I will not run. It is better to be stabbed in the chest than the back.”
“Isn’t that an Asian proverb in itself?”
“Maybe there’s a reason they’re winning.”
Irieshu felt a small smile split his lips, “You realize, I am not your ally, Langely?”
“Of course, Irieshu. You are no sides allies; you are merely an enemy of the war. The War, that which has killed my family, slaughtered my friends, murdered my people, consumed my own life, and tortured everything which holds any meaning to my heart.”
Irieshu slowly nodded his head, “You will be avenged.”
“I damn well better be.”
Irieshu silently exited the room, his motion barely noticeable.
The general listened to the silence murdered by the explosive noise of Irieshu’s craft shredding the very bonds of air. Heading East. All things, it seemed, were heading East.
Langely lifted the pistol from his desk, smiling slightly to himself, and turned to face the window erected behind him.
Turned to face the west.
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
The first battle.
Tyeko felt his body disband, as it has so many times before, conflict, somone...trying to hurt him...survive...destroy...the blind whiteness clouding his vision, as only the image of Irieshu...murderous...filled his mind...
He drew his pistol instantly. He held no concern for the others, no emotion for those wandering mindlessly about as they drew their weapons and examined them. No, he had understood hte neccessary goal to victory the instant the battle had been described. An open field. No cover. No teams. Merely the individual against individual…
He fired, the bullets from his pistol infinite, into the backs of the children about him, all flabberghasted by their sudden awe at “battling”, all amazed at their weapons, struggling to decipher their complex systems…all clumped together; only one aspect of the weapon mattered in this battle…the trigger.
Hundreds died, their bodies instantly paralyzed by the suits, which confined their arms and dropped them limply to the Earth, entire body in a state of stasis influenced by mechanical charges. Tyeko heard his voice erupt from his throat as his wrist and arm, entire body, merged with the weapon, one infinite rotation from unit to unit, killing, killing, had to kill before they recognized and responded…so many falling, a hundred, two hundred, it did not matter, twenty in a single spray of “bullets”…
157 soldiers instantly collapsed upon the field. If Tyeko had been witness to the control center, where th teachers watched the battle’s progress silently, he would have heard by one, quiet whisper in the awed silence: “My god, he’s right.”
The remaining 20 soldiers had dove to either side, rolling along the Earth. Tyeko’s eyes flickered across them as the whiteness only blinded him further; the game was not how many you could kill, but whether you could survive. Survive. Every child turned their weapon upon him. He instantly dropped to the Earth, feeling his shoulder lock as a bullet connected with it, the metallic suit conjoining with his flesh. He ignored it, the weapon nimbly switching grips. He opened fire upon them even as he dropped.
“FOOLS!” his voice cracked, as the shrieks erupted, only the white, the blinding, hideous light, “Clumping together? Don’t you get it; there are no teams! You’ve just made yourselves easier targets. In this, only the individual matters.
He eliminated 15 in a single arc of bullets, simply rolling across the clumps of 5 to 3 children per, all of whom he dove in concurring directions. He rolled the left as the other 5, realizing what in truth they were up against, struggled to target their weapons towards the enemy.
He was already to their flank.
And they were already dead.
Within 3 minutes, every child but one was forcibly paralyzed to the Earth. The remaining one rose upwards, as the clouds across his eyes slowly discoursed, fading…
He gazed, standing in the field of corpses, about him.
He fell limply to his knees.
Very slowly, he tiled his skull back, his eyes rolling limply into his skull. No…no…he had allowed it to conquer him…his urge, his killing urge…just like his father…no mercy, no feeling, no concern, no compassion…not his father…not like his father…please, Irieshu…you bastard…you turned me into him…you promised his death…yet all you did was create…”WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MEEE??!!!”
Tyeko fell forwards, body convulsing, tears spreading down his cheeks, sobs racking his body.
The other corpses merely stared on in silent wonder.
The explosions rippled across the Uralian skys.
The endless war was near conclusion.
Steven's fingers engrossed the metal gun, his only anchor to existence, as he rose his head above the trench line. Hundreds...perhaps millions of Asians, small yet unbelievably well trained, parts of a machine operated by a single brain, all meaningless yet purposeful at the same moment. They held an understanding of their lives, and would fight for them; yet, at the same moment, they held no fear of losing their individuality to be consumed by a bullet...they were perfect. Non-hesitant to obey orders, yet at the same moment competent enough to engage, even the lowliest private, in their military tactics to assist the Body. Akira had conquered the flaw of human nature. He had mastered the sequence of devising creatures both docile and master, meaningless yet purposeful. Steven understood this as the armies weaved downwards over the hills, single limbs of 10-20 soldiers seperating instantly from the main flow, tributaries equally deadly in their diminished size. They held no fear; a General was no more brillant than a foot-soldier; it was merely the succession of Akira's voice stating a general plan, and successive voices plotting this goal. All were equally trained; yet all had their own positions, in the mind-set of lacking and maintaining intiative, yet sacrificing a will to rise, that only Communism could instigate. Akira's unique, unique communism.
Steven clutched the weapon limply against his chest, the sky above a mockery of his sacrifice, blue skies rolling to the East, darkened only by a membrane of smoke signifying bullets fulfilled, and souls lost.
“Oh god…oh god, we’re dead, we’re all just dead,” Steven’s body jerked as the fear flooded beyond the will to survive, his own brain betraying him, the blade of logic sinking into his heart, “There’s no way; WHY did we come here??!! They wanred us, the endless battlefield, oh Jesus, oh Jesus…” Bullets richocheted off the opposite back of the trench, erupting into the Earth with a soundless thud, “Father---father who art in heave…hallo---“ Steven heard a shriek, his eyes instantly betraying their master brain, ganced towards the sight. Bobby, oh god, Bobby clutched at his face as his mouth, half a bloody spray of smiling shriek, the other a more purer of the two, convulsed hideously, his fingers struggling to pull the shredded cloth-like flesh and bone liquid that was now his profile, back onto his semi-skull. His brain throbbed, visible, half-shredded, pumping blood onto the now muddy Earth. Bobby’s eyeball hung limply outwards on it’s muscle, imploded in upon itself by the bullet, rotating and bouncing with Bobby’s agonized jerks.
“MOMMY!!! OH GOD, MOM!!! MAKE IT STOP!!! SOMEONE!!! MOOM!!! PLEEEEAAASSEEEEE,” Bobby shrieked, his jaw and brain slowly oozing out of their confinements, spreading across his clutching fingers, remaining eye rolled blindly into the recesses of his skull, “OH, OH, OH MY GOD WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!!?? PLEASE, DO NOT BETRAY ME, DO NOT BETRAY ME, SEND ME YOUR ANGEL OF DEATH!!! PLE-“ The rest of his head smeared along the trench floor, the violent paintbrush bullet exploding against the Earth. As Steven lowered his weapon, he wondered if this made him an angel.
He would never see his father again…oh, he wished…if he had only known, he would have spent those few precious extra years lost…how many years of his life had he wasted as useless, useless tasks, such as school, such as work, instead of enjoying his life…how wasted, exhausted through work and labor, and now, as death approached…
He only wished he had spent those hours engaged in homework playing with his Brothers, or talking with his mother, or laughing with his friends…no…Now he would never do such. He had sacrificed his life purposelessly to the demands of society. This was what those far wiser had warned him of when they had advised him to “lighten up”, live life…
The first soldier dropped quietly over the bank of the Final Uralian Trench. The man was nothing more than a tool at this point; his consciousness had been submerged to reveal the far more efficient subconscious, capable of acting with the blind resistanceless that permitted a flawless performance in battle. He was both aware and unaware of the fact that his existence in this Trench was nothing more than to be mowed down by horrified D.A. Soldiers, reciting the expierence briefly to those who viewed his progress, to allow the other soldiers a perspective on the resistance. This unawareness created the lucid adjustment, instantaneously, of a mission change; the soldiers were non-existent in this final trench. There was only a single unit in this sector, an unaware creature engaged in the long ago forsaken ritual prayer of the weak to their lord. This area would permit an easy inscision of units into the D.A’s Organs, no longer protected by this pathetic flesh layer. He would dispatch this soldier, and the pathway to victory would be instantly accomplished. All of these thoughts instantenous, so as with the first touch of the “units” feet to the Earth, he instantly rose his bayonet upwards. A subconscious instant action, heartless, emotionless, only one systematic idea: Success.
Steven glanced up with mild disinterest as the Bayonet was driven downwards into his shoulder-blade.
“Thy Kingdom Come, thine will be,” His voice and body contorted in unison as the blade split through his bone, instantly plunging into his limp organs, blood spraying across his face in a red haze, “on Earth---as it is…in heaven…” Steven’s mind was silently aware of the purposelessness of his death. There were no dramatics…there was no heroic sacrifice for the survival his people…no, he was simply being stabbed to death by a creature that could not even register emotion to recognize it’s act of murder. It did not care; none ever would. The bayonet shredded through the lining of his stomach easily, churned within his intestines, and erupted out of his back, splitting his kidney with a dll, senseless pop.
The bayonet rose and fell, blood spraying across Steven’s face, his joined hands, bliding his eyes, smearing the countenance of the mindless soldier who stared at his bloody work with devote, heartless concentration, as if chopping firewood, yet slightly more disinterested.
Rose and fell.
“gii—give us…this day…” Rose, fell, pain, organs rolling from the gaping hole that was his stomach, his lung punctured, his heart throbbing mindless onwards, struggling to pump, oh god he was innocent, oh god, he just wanted to see his mother again, he was innocent, someone… “our…daily…bread…forgive us…” his other lung punctured, air escaping it from an orifice other than the throat for the first time ever. Steven gazed up into the eyes, still mindless, slightly annoyed by the persistence of life within the task.
The bayonet was placed against his throat.
Pressed inwards. The flesh peeled to either side, as his head toppled forwards, his eyeing eyes simply staring blindly forwards
Our trespasses…as we forgive those who trespass…
The bayonet punctured his skull, impaling his very brain, which reacted no more than to darken in perspective, and to bleed.
Against us. And lead us not into temptation—The blinding darkness…clouding inwards…the words…blind themselves--- but deliver us, for thine is the power and glory…forever…and…
The soldier brought the bayonet to another soldier a few feet away, his legs brutally massacred by bullets, his arms broken, he lay limply on the Earth as the Automoton approached.
“Please---please stop,” The crippled body twitched, as tears flooded down the man’s face, “I mean, please, stop, we can consider this right, I mean, come on, let’s talk to this out---“ The Asian drove the Bayonet downwards---the man caught it, caught it in his remaining hand, his purpling fingers and muscles struggling to force it upwards, “Please, I have kids, I—I’ll give you anything, money, come on, please, Let’s just talk this over, just talk it over, come oh—“ The bayonet sunk into the man’s gut even as his arms fought against it, the Asian leaning his weight against the rifles butt, forcing it downwards, the man’s body convulsed as his eyes rolled limply his head, his final plees gurgling off as blood flooded his mouth.
The Asian removed the Bayonet. Already, Imperial soldiers were spilling over the lip, some dismembering the annoying soldiers who were strictly wounded, most of whom sobbed and begged as they were dissembowled. Some screaming that they were only 18, no chance at life, tricked by the army into beliefs of glory and honor for their countries…but they bled equally well as their organs were stirred by knives. They found no enjoyment, nor misery, in the actions; they were the human machines, with minds submergible and yet always capable.
The mindless swarm whose very ease of sacrifice made them so very difficult to kill.
The Imperials flooded across the final Trench, instantly adjusting their patterns to the new goal; Massacre the pathetic, weak inner organs of Europe, defensless and pathetic. The Imperial Wave began its steady roll West.
Driving ever towards the sun, setting on their fronts.
Sunday, April 13, 2003
"You konw I can't deny you, not after everything you've done...but, damn it, have a little a compassion...you know I love this program, love it more than the boys whom it builds...please...have mercy..."
The man sat before the humming computer screen, it's halo of light emminating dully across the hardwood desk, his own face a shadow, reprecussions of the boiling light. The computer screen displayed the face, indiscernible, the image filtered with the highest form of technology, capable of decieving even the Institutes Network.
"That is what has allowed you to form and define this Era and those within it," The voice from the computer screen was uninhibited unlike it's bretheren image, "But now...now this Era, and everything within it, must come to a close. You know as well as I do...and if you don't...then for the first time perhaps my respect has been misplaced."
The man's body slumped forwards limply, shadow-pool eyesockets revealing only the barest eimination of sadness, "THis age truly is just going to slip away...This war, these people, myself, my Institute...even..."
"I have accepted my fate with dignity. I am born to end this turmoil. However, I am incapable without the correct weapons. Everyting is about to conclude, everything will be dissolve, and it must, yet all of this will rest o nthe shoulders of that one boy."
"You...you always were the finest pupil to ever enter this school."
"Not anymore. The boy can do it, and he must be forced to do it. It is time for the Institute to serve it's true purpose. Throw it away, Jim. Throw it all away for this World. You must show him the truth first, the way the games are meant to be played, and then you must show him how the trules can be broken. You must place htem all aside; give him the impossible, but make sure they are within reason to teach him. You must accelerate him...he must learn everything there is to learn, and I do not doubt he can, and master it within this year. The time is coming to a close...the next age will raise from the ashes of this one...we must be sure the flames suit our pleasure."
"You want me to just degrade the program, ruin it you realize, by destroying the rules? The boy's already have a hard enough time...they could very possibly be mentally destroyed!"
The face on the computer screen slowly shook it's head, piercing eyes still visible beyond the glow, "No, only one of them. The one the others will turn to as they begin to realize that this place it their enemy, that they are being tortured and attacked, and that they must turn on this. ALmost all of them will just accept it as part of the training...all hope must rest on the fact that Tyeko realizes what this place really is, and how we're just using them all to fight our war."
"You're still going to be taking the boy?"
The face was silent for a moment, "No. I'll take him myself if he survives this. I've given him 2 months of intense training..."
"The boy thinks it's only been two weeks."
"I know. His mind was tortured beyond a point of recongition. I'm surprised his recongized as being more than one, infinitely long, restless day. But the fact is, he's had the first step of my training already...the Institute is his next, then he'll return to me for the final forging. I'm depending on you, though, Jim. Sacrifice this place, this program you love, for this Earth. That was your and its purpose...you must remember that."
"I remember it...I remember. But I had...I have grown soft, like all of them. ALl of them except you. I had begun to think that perhaps I could live in this world...I had found my place within it, and I was happy. I had forgotten that I was born to destroy it."
"I do not blame anyone, Jim. Our lives have been othing but a tool...however, it is time that took command of ourselves and concluded what we were born to. OUr lives are not ours to live; they are others to die for. Except that, and please, sacrifice this place for the future. For Tyeko."
The man's eyes met the screens with the bitter silence, jagged blades of anguish forge, "You know, Irieshu, I respect you, you're this age and next's hero, and you remembered our mission when all else was forgot. But I hate you. I hate you with all my heart."
"Don't hate me," The image almost laughed, a quiet, saddened sound, "It's the kid's fault. He's the one whose going to force you to destory this school. Hate him. And make sure you use that prejudice against him. You are his enemy. But...don't let this consume you. The boy must not be destroyed, merely face near impossibility...you are his enemy, but not the world's."
"Tommorow, I will sacrifice the integrity of this program and school for you, Irieshu. The children within it as well. All will suffer for this boy."
"No, Jim," For the first time in his life, Jim heard a deep pain in Irieshu's voice, "This child will suffer for all."
And with that, the computer screen went coldly dark, leaving only a silent, slumped man cloaked by shadows, who began to plan his stroll towards the end of life's horizon.
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