High above the decrepit streets of the slums of Arcadia, Raven sat perched, staring at the bustling activity below. Screams and shouts filled the air as the masses cheered for the canine bloodshed taking place below. One by one, the dogs engaged in ‘war,’ ravaging each other until one fell.
“I’m always intrigued how man is drawn to violence. Though we claim to abhor it, its taste is an addiction we can’t shake. Despite our best intentions, conflict and chaos reign supreme. OSW has offered that stark reminder over the last few weeks. I’m sure you’ve also seen this in your travels, Drewitt.”
Raven’s eyes continued to stay fixed on the chaotic scene below.
“War is often fought over frivolous matters. Our nature yearns for control, for wealth, and at times, even absolute power. However, the perpetrators of war are rarely those who engage in the conflict. Look below…these men mercilessly send their dogs into harm’s way, hoping to gain glory.”
The raven’s ‘caw’ interrupted the chaos momentarily as it circled from above.
“Like soldiers of eras gone by, these animals are unknowingly trained to be vessels of destruction. They are manipulated into believing they are cared for and important for the cause for which they were selected. As long as the objectives are met, the status quo is maintained.”
As the fight concluded, one of the dogs is gravely wounded, cries and whimpers filling the night sky. Its handler calmly drew a gun from his pocket. With no remorse, a single shot was unloaded into the head of the animal.
“However, there’s always a time when conditions on the ground change and the soldier is no longer useful to the mission. In those cases, their end is inevitable. Colt may have learned this vital lesson from you, no,” Raven questioned, smirking slightly.
“Regardless of how you handled your former apprentice, you now find yourself as the loyal foot soldier in the great conflict of Arcadia. You’ve been given your marching orders and like all good soldiers of fortune, you’ve accomplished the objective. You and your comrades dealt a blow last week, one I’m sure will require recalibration by your foes,” Raven stated, clapping into the night.
“But what happens, Drewitt, when your usefulness wears thin? What happens when the great soldier fails or is wounded beyond reclamation?”
Raven sat, Indian-style upon the top of the abandoned “perch” as the black bird that had circled above landed on his shoulder.
“You will become a casualty of war, Drewitt. Though death’s cold grasp can’t fully embrace you or I, I have come to learn there are things far greater than the afterlife,” Raven remarked.
“The inevitability of your discharge is coming. Your ‘band of brothers’ will soon have no further use for a man of your talents. You’re already ‘dead,’ you just don’t know it. As you like to say, war never changes. At NXT Level, I will be the bullet that mercifully relieves you from your inescapable fate. Traveler, you’re no longer a casualty of war, the chains will be broken. Quote the Raven, nevermore.”
Raven rose from his seated position, disappearing into the shadows of the night.