El Mariachi Muerte has his head bowed, sombrero hiding his face. His voice is wrought with pain as he speaks.
“More than anyone else in OSW, maybe in all of Arcadia, I’ve felt the sting of losing that which you love most dear.”
He looks up. There is a deep agony of loss in his eyes.
“The obsession of racking your brain, replaying those moments in your mind back over, and over and over, wondering if there was something else… ANYTHING ELSE THAT I COULD HAVE DONE?”
He falls silent, breathing heavily.
“The more I think about HER, the more the pain eats away at me inside. Because at the end of everything, I let her slip away.”
“I HAD TO!”
His voice cracks as he screams the words, then falls to almost a whisper.
“Because some things are bigger than love. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I HELD HER, I LOOKED INTO HER EYES.” A long pause sees EMM reliving the pain over again. “A look like that, as the light fades from somebody, you don’t forget in a hurry.”
“It stays with you. Like a stain upon your memory. That no amount of scrubbing or bleach can clean.”
His fist balls, punching himself in the side of the head until he bleeds. The blood trickles down his face and onto his white shirt.
“I’ve tried, Mister Kleen. I’ve tried desperately to scrub her from my mind, but no matter what I do… THE PAIN COMES BACK LIKE A BLOODSTAIN!”
“So I do what I can to numb that pain. I put my body through HELL, just so I will not have to think about her any more.”
“I suffer, but I can’t clean it off my mind. Because I chose to save the people from Doctor Death.” He screams, voice breaking in the agony. “I CHOSE THE MUSIC! I CHOSE IT OVER HER!”
“But you have your choices to make too, Kleen.”
“I once wanted to save Arcadia from a future without music. Just as you seek to save the Yellow Python from a fate once destined for yourself. You think you can clean up everyone’s messes and save them…“
“But they’re not worth it, Mr Kleen. They’re not!“
“You’ve got the choice to walk away from all of this. From the Kingdom, from the pain and suffering.”
“Do what I could not, Kleen… JUST WALK AWAY!”
“I’ve made my decisions… I’VE MADE MY BED OF NAILS! Now I have no choice but to be POWERBOMBED ON IT.“
“I hope you understand, I don’t want to hurt you at Bottom Line. But I need to make you suffer, as I suffer.” A flicker of a glint in Muerte’s eyes. “BANG, BANG!”
“I need to take that mop out of your cold, bleeding hands. I need to dip it in your blood, and use it to wash myself clean. Maybe then, only then… Will I finally be able to scrub away her memory, once and for all.”
He looks straight at the camera, face bleeding and smiles.
“And, Mister Kleen… Have a nice day.”