Beat 97: The Last Face You’ll Never See
The blast’s force blew
Lloyd onto his back. Clouds of dust and
chunks of debris swept over him, with shards of stone and wood slashing and
crashing against his body. Yet he
counted himself lucky; only a few embers from the explosion seared his skin. He knew it could have been much worse.
He knew, because he sat
up a half-minute after the blast. He
didn’t get to see the balls of fire that had destroyed the house, but columns
of flame twisted in the wake. A tower of
black smoke rose from the foundation’s center, disturbed only occasionally by
the night breeze. As for the rest? Nothing but smoking, crackling wreckage --
and even what little remained of the house crumbled and tumbled, preparing
itself for the fire’s feast.
Lloyd just sat there,
eyes so wide he nearly tore the muscles within.
He couldn’t feel the blaze’s heat; if anything, he felt as if he’d leapt
inside a freezer. He couldn’t get his
mouth to work; he couldn’t get his body to work. But in spite of everything, his mind remained
in full working order.
He’d watched the
O’Leary house explode before his eyes.
The same house that
Sheila had just entered.
“Sheila…” Lloyd squeaked. He raised a trembling hand, as if hoping
someone would come and take it -- as if someone would help him stand up. “Sheila…!”
But nobody came. Nobody.
And that meant just one
thing.
Lloyd stumbled to his
feet, and stared at the blooming blaze.
He kept his hand held out, still trembling, still expecting -- hoping --
praying that someone would come and
take it. But nobody came. He could only expect a wisp of flame to lash
at his hand. He had lost her. He had to accept it.
But he didn’t have to
be graceful about it.
“SHEILAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
But this time, he
noticed something. A discoloration -- a
shadow atop his arm that shouldn’t have been.
A shadow that kept moving. Rustling. Drawing his eyes to its skyward source.
And he found it.
“Ku fu fu…my, you are a
slow one. I was wondering when you’d
notice me.”
A tall, nightmarishly
gaunt frame. A dark jacket and slacks,
laced with white frills, but only highlighting the fabrics’ hue of dried blood
. A fluttering black cape, draped over
his razor-sharp shoulders. A top hat
that, in spite of its tilt, did nothing to hide the face -- the white mask that
stared down at Lloyd, eagerly displaying a sinister red smile. And as always, the long knife lodged deep
into his heart. Deep enough to kill a
man several times over.
Gaston Leroux, floating
through the moonlit night. Smiling
forever more.
“It’s been so long
since last we met, Lloyd,” he began, his gloved hands wafting through the air
like a grand maestro. “Quite frankly,
I’m surprised you could be so cruel.
Never calling, never writing…it’s as if you’ve completely forgotten I
exist. Is that any way to treat your
dearest friend?” But before he could get
an answer, he clapped a hand over his mask and chuckled. “Listen to me, telling such ridiculous
lies. You and I, friends? There mere thought makes me sick to my core.”
He glared at Lloyd, his
mask letting loose a crimson glow. “I despise you. And I want nothing more than to see you
suffer -- to see you fall prey to the deepest, darkest despair a man could ever
know.” He spread his arms wide, as if
eager to embrace the moon.
“Crying…screaming…wailing…clawing at the walls of the abyss…to impart
that absolute anguish upon you is
very nearly the reason for my being. To
break you -- and to command this world as I see fit, in contradiction to your
‘world of love’ -- is my birthright. A
reality to soon be realized by my hand.”
Lloyd couldn’t say a
word. He could only stare at Gaston, his
gaze hollower than a broken doll’s.
“I was hoping for more
of a response than that,” Gaston said with a sigh. He shook his head slowly. “What, don’t tell me you’re still grieving
over your loss? Please. It’s only a death. Get over it.
After all, if you focus too heavily on the past, you’ll never see the
majesty of the present.” He snapped his
fingers.
Lloyd gasped at the
sight; at least two dozen torches appeared in the night, slinking out from
behind fences and houses and taking formation at the cul-de-sac’s mouth. Except they weren’t torches -- they were
flames, burning quickly across moistened rags and making their way into glass
bottles. And they weren’t floating
alone. Each one of them lay in the hands
of their master -- a cadre of snake-masked soldiers.
Gaston waved a
hand. At his command, the snake-men
flung their salvos through the air, and into the neighborhood at large. Bottle after bottle crashed into buildings
and lawns; it didn’t even take half a minute for each assaulted area to have
flames devour it entirely.
Lloyd choked, and not
just because of the flames. One end of
the street turned into a wall of flames that had long since surrounded
him. The other end held a wall of flesh
and muscle -- soldiers that would sooner break Lloyd in two than give him a
moment to breathe.
“Welcome to hell,” said
Gaston. He dropped down to the street
and walked toward Lloyd. “Do you feel
that? Do you feel your hope and dreams
dwindling away? Remember that feeling --
because I assure you, it only gets worse from here on. Just the way I want it.” He glanced at the crowd of Vipers. “You.
And you, and you, and you. Come
here.”
The four Vipers stepped
forward without a sound, and came to a halt at Gaston’s command. “You.
Hold him. You two, leave him
battered. And you…you, get on your hands
and knees. I’m in the mood to have
myself a little sit.”
Lloyd didn’t even get a
chance to resist. One of the Vipers
slipped behind him before he could even think of throwing a punch, and found
himself propped up. He lost control of his
arms, and the Viper’s hold threatened to crush his upper arms. But his arms quickly became the least of his
concerns; the other two went to work on his face and torso, pounding him in
turn with fists that threatened to break the speed limit.
“Ku fu fu…I must admit,
I rather enjoy having these Vipers at my beck and call,” said Gaston. He crossed his legs as he sat atop the fourth
Viper, and cradled his chin in one hand.
“Brute force has never been my specialty, but I can certainly appreciate
it when those with the proper aptitude get to -- oh, how does the phrase
go? Ah, yes, of course. Cut
loose.”
Lloyd would have made a
sound if he could -- but he ate a haymaker instead.
“What I don’t enjoy, mon boffon, is you. You are an irksome, irritating, insufferable person. Looking at you, listening to you, knowing
that you can still laugh and smile on a whim makes me wretch. And yet…and yet, in spite of all that, your
pain and suffering amuses me in a way your foolishness -- your death -- never will.”
One of the Vipers hammered
Lloyd in the gut.
“Of course, that
doesn’t mean that the people closest to you are safe -- as you can clearly
see.” Gaston gestured to the wreckage
behind Lloyd. “How does it feel, knowing
that I have no issue with taking the people you care about away from you? How does it feel, knowing that I’m going to
keep on taking people away from you? Do
you earnestly believe that you can protect them all from me? Clearly you underestimate…you there, don’t
forget to knock his legs around for a bit.
His lower half could use a sound thrashing.”
The Viper gave his boss
a thumbs-up, and planted a foot into Lloyd’s legs -- repeatedly.
“Bravo. Bravo. Oooh, excellent use of the knee; I hardly
knew one could do so much harm to the thigh.
Then again, I suppose one truly does learn something new every day. Ah, c’est
la vie.” Gaston laughed to himself,
and sighed in relief. “I wonder what’s
going through your head right now? Could
you be wondering where your friends are?
Wondering if I’ve brainwashed them into staying away from you? Wondering if I’m going to strike at them
next? Wondering how I could have taken
such perfect aim at your heart?”
He stood up, and
dismissed his impromptu bench with a wave.
“It doesn’t matter what you do. I
will always know your next move, and how to counter it. Always.
I have all the tools I need to tear your heart asunder -- and as you can
see, I have no problems taking the proper steps to do so.” He snapped his fingers, and the other Vipers
stepped back; Lloyd fell to his knees, bruised and bloody, and unable to lift
his foggy gaze from the asphalt.
But Gaston gladly lent
a hand. He took hold of Lloyd’s chin
like a goblet, and forced him to stare at the red-eyed mask. “I’ve already taken one friend away from you. And I’ve just taken another. The question is…who’s next? Your father?
Your brother? The dear
mademoiselle? The answer is that it
could be anyone. Anyone who gets near
you is a target…anyone who gets near you is a candidate for the grave.” He seized Lloyd by the throat and pulled him
closer. “The world will become my
stage. And nothing you can do will stop
my brilliant performance.”
He let go of Lloyd,
allowing him to flop back-first onto the ground. “Ku fu fu…I would have preferred to see you
on your knees and wailing for parley, but I suppose that look suits you just as
well. A fool from start to finish. The worst, most despicable sort of person,
sprawled out as the crushing weight of the truth, of unlimited despa-”
“You’re exactly right.”
Gaston’s arms froze in
mid-gesture.
“You are…exactly
right. I failed. I failed her…in a way that prevents me from
ever being forgiven.” Lloyd sputtered
and coughed, but somehow he found the strength to sit up. “But even so…even if I led her into this abhorrent
fate…I cannot shoulder the blame alone.”
He forced his arms to start working.
“You, and your Vipers…you are the ones who would dare to take a life. Your crimes…your mere intentions…I cannot
forgive them.”
Gaston chuckled. “I fail to recall ever asking for your
forgiveness.”
“I never offered
it. And I never shall.” Lloyd tumbled onto his knees. “I cannot forgive you. And I cannot forgive myself. But with the foe before me -- with the friend
behind me -- I’m not allowed to stop.
Even if I cannot beat you, there are countless others in this world, in
this very town, who can. And as their
would-be prince, I will give them the strength they need to ruse up. To find their own, dormant power…and use it
to crush you.”
“How cute. You act as if you have a future.”
Lloyd glared at Gaston,
his eyes even hotter than the flames around them. “You act as if you can stop me.”
“Ku fu fuf…Keh heh
heh…keh HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Oh, this is simply delightful!
Simply marvelous! Even after all
you’ve been through, even with a broken body, you STILL manage to find just
enough spirit to make such bold proclamations!
Oh, this is truly a treat!
Simply, truly a delight!” Gaston
looked down at Lloyd, and for a moment it looked as if his crescent-moon smile
stretched even wider. “Excellent! Now I get to break you all over AGAIN!”
He planted a foot into
Lloyd’s chest, knocking him over and forcing him to reel in pain. But a moment later, Gaston brought his foot
back down; he stepped on Lloyd’s heart, eagerly letting his weight press down
on his prey. “Fine, then. I’ll break you. And I’ll keep on breaking you, as many times
as it takes. I sincerely hope you enjoyed
these seventeen years of having a heart -- because rest assured, when I’m done
with you, you won’t even be able to remember what a heart is.”
“That’s what you
think,” said Lloyd.
“No. That’s what I know.” He lifted his foot off Lloyd. “You’d best prepare yourself. You’re about to have the time of your life.”
He stomped on Lloyd’s
face.
And after that,
everything went black.
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