We fade into the interior of Eden. It looks slightly better then it did a few weeks prior, the corpses of Fidel’s men having been transported to the Mortuary and most of the blood and gore has been cleaned yet the aura of death and failure still lingers in the broken Eden. Not a single soul is seen inside the usually bustling club aside from Fidel himself, perched over his broken marble table as he sits there, reading through a pile of messages as his voice increases in tempo with each one.
Too much of a liability to help. Eden is failing so why should we boost you up? Too afraid of one woman to gather your fucking army. Thanks for giving me everything but I’d rather not end like your men. Fucking cowards and charlatons all of you, what is the point of favors IF YOU CAN’T CASH THEM IN!?
Aarman rises to his feet, gripping one side of the broken table and tossing it as far as he can, visibly shaking in rage. It shatters impacting on a nearby wall, nearly going through it as Aarman runs his hands through his hair, nearly pulling it out through sheer frustration.
When you’re on top, everyone wants a little piece of the pie but when you fall, all those little parasites run far, far away. A thousand favors and none of them worth jack shit since she came into my life, forcing me to deal with petty thugs and vagabonds and even they deny me.
It’s been so long but this…this is what rock bottom feels like.
Yet I don’t feel remorse or grief or sorrow, all I feel is rage for the realization of how fucked this world and it’s people are.
Because all the charm in the world demonizes the man who does what he has to do yet the fallacy of a prophet with real vengeful blood running down his fingers has allies falling over themselves to help someone who deserves punishment.
Deep down Vision we’re the exact same. Eden and the Third Eye were built on the bones of others, it’s just I never hid what it was all about. I never pretended to be anything but a monster yet you and your little cult spread the word of Enlightenment to the brainwashed masses when in reality you’re just another blot of evil that deserves to die. And Grimskull is the reaper coming for your soul. While Nergal…she’s coming for everyone elses.
Walther’s vengeance is just focused on you and the Third Eye and no matter who you coerce into helping you, you know deep down you deserve every ounce of what is coming to you.
But Arcadia doesn’t deserve Nergal, and even if no one can see it, I’m the only one standing in her way. And before I march towards my uncerimonious death, I’m going to do one good thing before I go
And leave you in a bloodied heap giftwrapped for an old friend and an end you truly deserve.