THIS SITE IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OF ARKHAM CITY, WHICH INCLUDES A DC CANON/COMIC DATABASE AND WELCOMES ORIGINAL CHARACTERS, BUT THE FREE WILL TO PLAY AS ONE PLEASES. WE'D LOVE FOR YOU TO JOIN US! PLEASE REGISTER FIRST AND LAST NAME WITH PROPER CAPITALIZATION.
LAST LAUGH IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE THAT IS AN ADDITION TO THE ARKHAM CITY STORY. THERE ARE MAJOR ALTERATIONS TO THE DC UNIVERSE THROUGHOUT PLAY AND WE DO NOT HOLD EVERY APPLICANT AND MEMBER TO THE HIGHEST MOST CANON STANDARDS OF THE DC UNIVERSE. THIS SITE ALLOWS CONSTRUCTIVE CANON CHANGES ALONG WITH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT THAT MIGHT NOT BE SEEN BY THE DC PUBLISHERS. WHEN JOINING OR PLAYING, BE AWARE THAT THINGS CAN CHANGE AND YOU MIGHT SEE SOME CONTENT THAT IS NOT CANON DUE TO PLAYING ON LAST LAUGH FOR SO LONG. WE EXPECT CANON STORIES TO CHANGE AND CANONS TO MAKE DIFFERENT DECISIONS
Tonight, Greta decided, was a good night to be fighting crime. The setting was almost perfect, for her anyway. There was a fine mist hanging low around the subway which meant that sneaking up on the thugs was easier then it should have been. Greta just watched them for a little while, her mist form hidden perfectly within the shadows and fog that nature had already provided. She predicted that there would be a death tonight. But then again, this was Arkham City. There was going to be a death every night until Strange was to be stopped. But how did you stop Hugo Strange? Greta had seen how no-one was able to do it politically. She had read the newspapers and made personal visits to the political prisoners that she recognized. Even Bruce Wayne, with all his power couldn't stop the mad man behind the city.
Even the heroes couldnít' bring down Strange. Secret had heard rumours of The Flash being caught within the walls. The Flash. There had been sightings of batman, superman, wonder woman, supergirl, zatanna, huntress... the list went on and on. With all the higher ups being spotted and seen, why had nothing happened against Strange? With aliens and meta-humans alike working against him, what made him so untouchable? Was it his money? His brains? Was it his army of TYGERS under his control? Greta or Secret just couldn't figure it out. The Justice League had been against smart villains, rich villains and villains with armyís of armed thugs. Maybe it was because all the heroes had something to loose. Or their morals stopped them from doing what they really wanted to.
Morals, is one of the things that Greta possibly disliked most about being a hero. Well, that and that she barely ever got time off to herself. but morals. Sure, Secret saw how they were useful. She could see that the heroes rules to not kill made them different from the criminals that they rounded up. But sometimes, not killing them wasn't the smart move. Because it gave them a second chance. But a second chance to do what exactly? Redeem themselves and their sins to fit back into normal society? It seemed unlikely to say the least. Greta knew of criminals who tried to be good, often they just went back to their old ways because they got bored. No, Greta thought that giving some criminals a second chance was just stupid - they'd just spend the time plotting their even bigger way to steal something/ take over the world/ kill the whoever. No, some people never changed.
Her brother had been one of them. He wasn't Billy any more no matter how much Greta wanted him to be. The brother she once loved and adored was long gone and he was sadly never coming back. Billy had been replaced by Harm. Harm was a stupid name anyway. As Greta paced in the shadows of the subway, she solidified her foot quickly, just long enough for her to kick some rubble and send broken glass and bricks flying. No doubt the noise brought thugs to her attention - but Greta didn't hang around long enough to find out. She teleported away quickly, the only evidence of her even being there was a bunch of scattered bricks and a displacement of fog around where she had stood. Why did it have to be her anyway?! What had pushed Billy - no Harm - into killing her? She downright adored him! She would do anything for her step brother!
That probably was what stung the most about Greta's current ordeal was that Billy wasn't even her full brother. She had laid so much trust, so much love into him. And he had stabbed her in the back and killed her. Well, not stabbed her in the back... more like drop a toaster in her bathtub. The burning smell as she was electrocuted. Sometimes, Greta could still smell it. She was not only murderer by her brother, she was a sacrifice for demons. It sort of sickened her really. She wanted to be with her mother - in heaven. Secret wanted to be anywhere but here really. Stuck forever between the two panes of existence, forever cursed to take souls to the other side but never feel the true experience of death herself. Sometimes, Greta wished she had been like her friends. The friends that were doing naughty things with boys just because they could. Just because they could. Greta never even kissed a boy before, not before she died. But some of her friends had gone a lot further than kissing by the time they were fourteen. Secret used to think it was pathetic, that they were pathetic. But of course, they were the ones who were living and she was the dead little ghost girl.
Not to mention that being dead was so lonely. Greta didn't know if she aged or not, so to be stuck at sixteen forever somehow made her life even worse. All she wanted to do was to be normal. To be alive and live like a normal girl. She just wanted to have all the things other girls could have - to fall in love, to panic about finals and tests, to go to the movies and not get scared at for being INTANGIBLE. Was it to much to ask? Of course it was... there wasn't a person in the world who could bring her back fully. Nor could she ever go to the other side. She was never going to release herself from the taboo of her death and she didn't want to go to hell. Greta wasn't that desperate - yet. She had managed to make something of her death. She had managed to make herself into a hero, Greta now had friends and she fought crime. She even had a secret crush and there was possibly a boy who had a crush on her. There had been a slight spring in her step recently.
Speaking of fighting crime, what had Greta teleported into? She looked around her quickly... was it a drug bust? Greta moved quickly, not feeling the bullet that ripped through her misty 4'8" form. She solidified a hand, punching up under the first mans throat, causing him to bite down hard and silence whatever warning he was about to shout. The other man was slouched against the alley wall, the bullet had hit him in the stomach and now he wouldn't be a problem. A few more jabs to the chest and the man was stumbling backwards. Greta had a mixed fighting style, all of the young justice members had contributed something to her training. She had learnt a lot and her ballet did contribute. Before long the man had stumbled back onto the floor and Greta aimed a solid kick into the mans temple before she picked up the drugs and teleported away with them. When she returned to make sure no-one had done anything to the bodies, Greta sighed quietly and looked down at the now dead man. This didn't look good for her - a dead body and an unconscious one. For a few moments, Greta shut her eyes and took one long pointless breath.
Group: The Wicked
Member No.: 237
Joined: 15-July 12
Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat ets.
The shadows and dim, somber lights of the subway illuminated a tall and graceful figure as it moved, silently and smoothly, like an unearthly spirit. A single slit of brilliant, ominous violet light shone from its forehead with two snow-white pupils just below it, beaming like beacons in the darkened space. The light danced like fireflies on the curved walls as it looked about, taking notice of the limp bodies that lay strewn in the station with a slight click of its tongue. Useless, they were, all of them. It seems if you want something done correctly, you must do it yourself. Exodus hadn't known until now that also included something as menial as lookout. He sighed and brushed back the feather-like white hair that now adorned his head, his skin traced with satiny black markings in various languages and symbols. Exodus' pupil-less eyes scanned the seemingly empty station, about to proceed with his client's wishes, but then heard the softest breath, like the whistle of wind through an open window. He froze and closed his two mortal eyes, instantly shifting his vision into that of a Magi, the violet light prancing about crazily in all directions as his markings shimmered like onyx. Nothing. He touched his now clawed foot to the floor. Waves of sound radiated from his form, bouncing off every surface, trashcan, and piece of gum in and out of sight, but still nothing. Still wary, Exodus began to slink into the open space of the central station, out of the shadowy comfort of the tunnel.
"Come now, my dear," he cooed with his voice like honey as he beckoned calmly behind him to his suffering patient, a young woman fallen victim to Penguin's webbed hands. The poor thing was broken and alone, desperate for a way out, a way to break from her shackles. Sadly enough, it seemed, her happiness could only be found in death. He had placed her in a trance so blissfully deep that she could barely walk a straight line, let alone see with her own eyes. He had led her along for most of their pilgrimage, but she seemed to have gotten lost somewhere within the tunnels. He could still feel her presence, the aching pain that was interred within her visions of paradise. It agonized him to see someone this unhappy, this desolate, and inflamed his hatred for the old crusty bird all the more. All of this would end for the little fledgling soon enough.
After a moment he felt her smooth and trembling hand slip into his and squeezed it reassuringly as he led her forward. This was the make or break; if she truly did not seek death, the hypnosis would be shattered shortly, but if the abyss was all she longed for, her new reality would increase its hold tenfold. A dried tear could still be seen in the fluorescent light on her cheeks, and Exodus tenderly stroked her face, whispering quiet words of reassurance in her ear. Still grasping her hand he led her closer to the side of the subway tracks until her feet were precariously placed on the edge. He steadied her there and leaned down to pick up a shotgun that had been left there precisely for her. The angel of death then took a pack of bullets from his pocket and loaded it silently. He handed the gun to Claire, opened her mouth, and placed it against the roof. One shot, and she wouldn't feel a thing. Painless. Quick. Easy.
Shifting the light and shadows around him Exodus disappeared from mortal view, making it appear as if Claire was standing alone on the chair with a gun clenched in her hand, pondering, waiting. Using her own hands he unlocked the safety and laid her finger on the trigger. This was the defining moment. A low hum emitted from Exodus' third eye as it pulsated, the light blazing brighter and brighter. Faint music thrummed around him as he opened his mind to hers, seeing for the first time her version of paradise. It was very revealing of a person's heart, their paradise, their promised land. They had it within them all along, they just needed a little help realizing that it wasn't just a dream or a fantasy. No, no. It could be so much more. So much more than this shallow, dismal, meaningless reality that everyone forced themselves to live in. Anything else was simply absurd. It devastated him, knowing how sick and helpless this world was. They refused to let themselves be helped. But this one, dearest Claire, she was enlightened. She would be saved. He stood beside her, his invisible hand on her waist, his lips brushing her ear. The symphony echoed now, the sourceless sound growing louder and louder. Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets.
"It's time for you to find your happiness, sweet Claire. A place far from this city, that evil bird. You will know bliss. You will know paradise, I swear to you." Her finger still tentatively curved around the trigger, Exodus began to step back, giving her the dignity of taking the final motion. "This is your last moment in misery, Claire Dawes. This is the end of your Exodus."
Group: Lost Souls
Member No.: 121
Joined: 6-April 12
Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
I am small
Warm me up
And breathe me
Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
I am small
Warm me up
And breathe me~
Life was like a piano symphony, it was long with a beautiful melody, but consisted of sad and joyous parts. Sometimes when Claire closed her eyes at night, she could hear her own song tapping along the ivory road. The only thing that ever made Claire happy was the music that swelled through her memories and when everything else seemed to just melt away. Jack tried and she'd always be thankful for his words of wisdom, even the support of the girls, but they'd never truly understand that some misery wouldn't be over, pain would only last until she died. Everyone she had ever loved and everyone who has ever loved her ended up dying or being gone. She was always so sad because she carried the burden of people's feelings on her shoulders. Claire cried when there was no need to be sad herself, but she cried for everyone who ever hurt. The pain and misery of life would never end no matter where she ran. There'd always be the ugly crime haunting her heart, biting her mind. Arkham City was just another page of the same story: pain and suffering. What they didn't understand was that there was no getting better, there was no forgetting either.
It was never gonna stop, there wasn't going to be an over because there was always going to be someone who wanted to hurt another. She just wanted it to end, all the pain and all the suffering. The crushing feeling where she felt like her chest would collapse in itself. There were brief moments where Claire could feel herself hear the positive and delightful notes of her song, but lately it was a slow and sad melody. Was it wrong to desire death and be with all the people she loved? The world never gave her that much, instead they hated her and rejected her. She was the freaky girl with the freaky eyes. The kids in her neighborhood used to throw stones at her when she walked home from school. She never had a boyfriend and she never shared a kiss with anyone. That was her strength, never giving herself to them and never letting them win. Sometimes happiness was only found in death.
Her loving parents that died, her father and her mother smiling. Her foster parents welcoming her with open arms. Instead of feeling the closed doors of Arkham and the bite of hunger eating her stomach away. She'd be happy and she'd be with people she knew who'd love her forever. Perhaps it was selfish, but where would she go? Try to fit into a life that never wanted her anyway? One who managed to live her entire life without falling in love, which people deemed wasn't living at all. It was always going to be about that though love and happiness. She could see it in Violet's eyes when she gaze at that leather jacket. There was a light that seemed to thrive in her friend's eyes every time she had a thought or a glance at that jacket. That's when Claire knew that Violet was swept off her feet and in love. Even if the grizzly bear didn't realize it yet, it was all over her face clear as day. She managed to press a smile even when there was nothing to be happy about and that was because she was happy. There was nothing wrong with that either.
Violet left to chase her dreams and Claire was entirely alright with that. If she was running towards hope, then she'd let Violet run forever. That's what her love did: selflessness. Then there was Eris, hiding behind a mask to cover up her own heartbreak, but there was someone who stepped in. Someone who could smear the flaked make-up away and let her know that her fight alone was over. She witnessed the thug that Eris was with a lot. The way he looked at her and her newly found confidence in his presence. Claire may have been kept uninformed because they thought she couldn't handle it, but she could see! Her beautiful and naive eyes could see everything and the beauty there was in their lives. Naoka after the disturbing visit from the Tygers showed signs of excitement. Claire couldn't depict it yet. Maybe it was that gentleman who came in for a private session with her or maybe it was the subtle smile in the corner of her lips that hinted to a secret kiss. A secret kiss meant that she met someone in 'J.M. Barry's' terms.
Rory still fought like a tiger and eventually she'd meet someone too. Claire knew that much that someone would appear and sweep her off her feet just like they did everyone else. Claire stared at danger straight in the face many times and she wished it'd kill her. To end the misery that bit at her heart. she hugged Jack while she cried and she just felt so empty still. There was a time she'd sing to herself and then cry. The music played lightly through her life, setting the mood of every memory, but as she walked down the dark, dank path of the subway. It rolled slowly over her notes. Nothing but darkness seemed to be at the end of her path, but she still walked lightly towards her own demise. Just music and the soft touch of an ushering hand. Even though she could feel her own heart beating towards the end, she felt happy. She didn't even have to look as her feet felt like stepping on water. Claire didn't blame any of the other girls, because this was what she wanted. She wanted to end the pain, that seemed to last eternity, even before the crisis at Arkham.
It wasn't a trance, more of a subtle haze that played beautifully sweet images in her head. Something with bright light and fields of flowers: laughter followed by her family smiling. Playing out experiences she never had. Every dream every desire that she wished upon the stars. She felt her feet lightly step onto the chair as though her feet were bleeding from the chains around her ankles. Nothing but relief fell over her when she gripped the metal weapon with her tiny, frail fingers. Someone guided her to place the barrel in her mouth and she didn't feel frightened. Nothing but the light music playing in her mind, always reveling every note of her experiences. It wasn't anyone's fault, because this is what she wanted for a very long time. Just feeling everything lift off of her shoulders, the pain subside and nothing, but joy taking its place.
"It's time for you to find your happiness, sweet Claire. A place far from this city, that evil bird. You will know bliss. You will know paradise, I swear to you. This is your last moment in misery, Claire Dawes. This is the end of your Exodus."
Her tender lips moved around the the cold cylinder of the barrel as she whispered her last prayers. The things she'd want to say when facing the end. "I chose this." her soft voice whispered with relief. "I will always love my friends." her voice continued. "And I'll always be with them with in their love." Her bright eyes looked over towards the empty space she heard the voice echoing from. "Thank you." she said with gratification as tear strolled down her slender, bony and malnourished cheeks. She may have seemed sad, but Claire was crying with joy, for finally gaining the fairy-tale ending she desired. "Thank you so much." she nodded as her nostrils flared and she closed her eyes to face forward. Her index quivered on the trigger: quick. painless. and satisfying. She pulled the small piece of metal which decided her fate and a loud shot rang through the tunnels. Her frail body fell to the ground, letting the gun clatter onto the cement next to her frame. Her pearly eyes closed, with one stream of blood lining the side of her cheek from her lips. Claire for once even did her make-up all nice, wearing something she thought she looked beautiful in. She looked so peaceful, even if blood started to pool from underneath her skull and stain the lavender silk dress she wore, which loosely fit her skeleton frame. Tears were dried to her cheeks, but there was the smallest hint of a smile perked across her lips.
Claire Dawes finally found salvation. She finally found happiness.
tag: Greta & Julien words: 1432 notes: I do want to play out Greta taking Claire to the other side. This was the saddest thread I have ever written in my entire life, but Claire's muse was so happy. This was the longest post she's ever given me.
This was odd, it wasn't meant to be like this. She could feel something stirring in the atmosphere around her. Something that didn't feel right. Something that felt like the impending feeling of death but... but it was too happy. Death wasn't good, death wasn't happy. Even suicide, was ruled by fear and negative emotions. Suicide may have been something that many desired but it wasn't a happy time. Suicide was ruled mainly by fear, by a feeling of giving up. A feeling that your life was so horrible that you saw no other option. Death, Greta knew, wasn't happy.
Even murder, or sacrifice, wasn't happy. Murder, even if you were happy just those few moments before sucked every good feeling out of you. Death was terrifying, even to Greta. She wasn't going to lie and say that she had been afraid at the time of her death. Even more so than most. As she let the feelings and memories of her death wash over her, albeit hazy memories and feelings, she kept her eyes shut. She didn't remember much about her death, mainly because she tried not to and also because the whole act of dying had caused her to forget. For example, she couldn't remember the colour of her nails when she had died - or the smell of the shampoo that she had been using on her hair at the time. But... she remembered the fear. The fear of seeing her brother walk into the bathroom, toaster in his hands. She remembered screaming, but no-one in the house who cared was still alive to hear her. Her mother, dead downstairs... it was a horrible memory but one of few that was still burned into Greta's mind.
Then, after she had spent probably a good thirty seconds screaming and trying to hide her body from her brother, Billy - no Harm - had just laughed. He stood there and laughed at her attempts to protect her innocence and he laughed at her screaming and cursing at him to (and she remembered this to a "T") "Piss of you stupid ugly piece of shit for a brother". She hadn't known about her brothers sick sociopathic tendencies. She didn't know about his freaking devil worship. She had been the final piece in his sick twisted puzzle. But even now, even though Greta was meant to be a hero she didn't regret having to kill Billy. But then again, sometimes, she did.
Not that it mattered too much what Greta regretted and what she didn't. It was all in the past and you couldn't change the past. The past was Greta's death and she was never coming back fully. She as never going to be normal and the sooner Greta accepted that she would be stuck as a dead, ugly ghost girl for the rest of time. She would never be corrupted and she would never become more innocent and the fact she was sacrificed to demons would never change. So, she opened her eyes and looked up at the moon before teleporting to further within the tunnels. She teleported in, waves of mist rolling off of her ghostly form. But, she appeared to be too late. "This is your last moment in misery, Claire Dawes. This is the end of your Exodus." Greta's translucent eyes widened in horror as she realized what was about to happen.
Greta ran forward, her hands outstretched as if she were able to yank the gun from the womans hand. She didn't even care for the mystical looking being that seemed to cast a violet light all around the subway. But... she was too late. The bullet was plowing through the girls skull. "NO!" Was all that the girl could manage to say. For a few moments Greta stared at the woman who lay broken and crumpled on the floor. The blood pooled from her head and Greta broke down onto one knee to stare at the woman. She reduced her already small height to one even smaller, though she wasn't really on the floor. Greta mourned and grieved for a girl she didn't even know. A sign of Greta's pure heart and almost innocent ways.
If she could cry, she would have done. But no, no pearly tears fell from Greta's translucent eyes and rolled onto her glowing, ghostly cheeks. She shook her head, biting her lip and looking genuinely torn up. For a few moments, she turned to look at this glowing creature with malice and anger blazing in her big blue eyes. "I will be back for you..." she forced her voice to go into the raspiest tone she could imagine. Her voice matching the hatred and tone of nails on a chalkboard. Something she had practiced, but not used and utilized for a long time. Greta, no Secret was angry now. She took her hand, her translucent hand moving to touch the girls arm. She gave one last glare to this "Exodus" even on his third eye before teleporting away, transporting Claire's precious soul to the other side.
Greta stood, watching the innocent soul of Claire Dawes move through to the other side. The side where Greta wanted to desperately to be but would never be granted. She wondered, where Claire Dawes' soul would go. Probably to heaven. Secret hoped it was heaven. The girl seemed to innocent to go to hell, she had learned of it's hells from the demons she had encountered. But this woman seemed to deserve going into heaven. Funny how, even though Greta looked and was still only sixteen (and a small sixteen at that) she referred to most other people as girls and boys. Not men and women, as they were.
As the soul of Claire Dawes passed over, Greta hung her head and teleported back into the scene by the body. She didn't move for a matter of seconds, letting the mist roll off of her body and disappitate into the air around her. Then, she looked up the anger still blazing in her face. Next Greta moved with swift skill and speed. Her solidified hands made their way to Juliens body and face, she laid heavy and strong punches on him. Then, after she hoped she had met her mark, she floated away, returning to her intangible state. She shook her head and glared at him, the anger still welling in her chest. "you are.... you are terrible" She balled her fists slightly. "She could have done something with her life! She could have been something! Yet you... you took it..." Greta shook her head and solidified her foot, aiming a well aimed flying kick for this guys head. She didn't really care any more.
He had killed someone, he was scum. He was no better than the rest of the filth that roamed the streets of Arkham. No better than her brother no better than her father. He didn't deserve her justice... then again... saying that, Greta feeling as if she wanted to kill him. What separated her from him?
Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat ets.
How foolish he'd been. Exodus should have known from the moment he stepped into the subway that a spirit had been lurking here. He should have felt her wispy presence immediately, but he'd allowed himself to get caught up in Claire Dawes' own visions. Stealing a sliver of other people's bliss had always been a bad habit of his, and hers was truly pacifying. The ghost's bitterness and untainted rage bombarded him like a hoard of bombs, exploding against his mind one after the other. She was fuming. She was in shock. She was going to come after him.
This was definitely the most trying aspect of his work, attempting to pacify and enlighten those who witnessed what exactly it was he did. They all jumped to the worst of conclusions, pointing fingers, shouting, throwing fits. It was like a barrier between him and the rest of the world, a barrier of understanding and compassion. Everyone is so selfish. The only reason anyone was bitter against him at all was because they had lost someone. A friend. A loved one. It was revolved around how they were suffering, with no regards to the misery or despair of the ones he had set free. They found their paradise, their blissful happiness and endless contention. Why wasn't that enough? It never was. It never would be as long as the world continued to blind and deafen themselves. Even this spirit, this translucent soul, didn't allow herself to see all that could be. It pained him deeply to watch her face contort in anger, so confused and misguided. But she was beyond his realm now, beyond his help. And now she was stuck in a perpetual state of loneliness and isolation, unable to even touch the world that had scorned her so, unable to move on from this wretched place. Poor, poor thing.
Exodus was just about to reach out to her, to touch her conscience and help her understand, but her eyes blazed with hatred as she looked up at him, muttering, 'I will be back for you.' Exodus recoiled, his face a mask of stone at her screeching tone. As she took Claire Dawes far away from the place that encompassed all of her melancholy and anguish, he folded his hands in front of him and observed, silent and respectful. At the end of the day, it didn't matter if he was despised by every living creature to walk on this damned planet. Moments like this, people like Claire, made all the bitterness and misunderstanding pale in comparison. This made his life worthwhile.
When Greta's soul re-emerged from the abyss, Exodus was prepared for her onslaught of attacks, blind and furious. He managed to dodge a few but still took some painful hits, making him double over and stumble backward. His breath came in heavy gasps as he glanced upward to where she had once been visible. His third eye peeped open again as he muttered "toten Augen," allowing him to just barely make out her drifting form. He barely managed to escape her intangible foot flying straight at his face, falling back onto the hard ground to dodge the assault. Exodus was getting the growing suspicion that trying to explain to her was pointless. Her mind stank of the bat family, of those false heroes. Still, he tried, coughing out, "This is what she wanted to do with her life. There was nothing left for her here. You should be joyful that she found her happiness, even if in death, you have not."
Selfishness. Utter selfishness all around him. He rose slowly from his place, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He was feeding on her anger, taking in the potent energy and expelling it back out. "How dare you try to tell her what she should have done with her existence. She came to me, seeking escape. I gave it to her. It surprises me that one such as yourself would continue to exist in a state of such perpetual blindness. Why would you choose to be of this world if you no longer truly dwell in it?" His voice grew louder, more forceful, more alien with every word. The rage was connecting them, making him lose his even temper, making him irrational. All of the dim lights in the subway suddenly came to life, beaming down blindingly bright and flickering with a loud, monotonous humming sound. Exodus began to stalk towards her, his fists clenched. The gravity dropped almost instantaneously around them, causing random objects to begin to drift into the air without restraint. "Selfishness. That's all it is! Selfish, shallow beings you all are!"
People like Julien... they were the one type of people that Greta would never give a second chance - even if they were "redeemed" by society. Murder wasn't something that Greta would ever find it in her heart to forgive - even if the victim was willing. Even if the victim wanted to be killed, it didn't make it any better. If anything, it only made it worse. It fuelled sick idea's that the murderer could be "God" that people were just waiting to be relieved of the pain of life. It bred psychopaths like Victor Zsasz - men who believed that all human life was pointless. Everyone was a "zombie" who was waiting to be liberated by death. Zsasz scared Greta, but she knew that she was probably the safest from him. She couldn't be killed and that almost allowed her to stomach her fear and fight him without hesitation.
She didn't like murderers because Greta understood what it meant to die. She knew what it meant to have your life slip out of your fingers without your knowing or readiness. She was a victim of murder, another body buried somewhere in a wooden box. Just a poor sixteen year old girl, forgotten by the friends the minute that something more tragic turned up. Greta may have been forgotten by the world, but Secret was going to make sure that her enemies weren't ever going to forget her and her desire for justice. She was going to put away scum and save people from suffering the same fate as her. Not that she assumed many people were going to be stuck in a ghost form - she had never met another like her. But she knew what it was like to die and she didn't want anyone else to suffer that. Not unless she could help it. Though it may have been a stupid mistake for a hero, but she fought using her emotions as fuel.
It was probably because her emotions were her last little bit of humanity. The fact she still felt something reminded her that she wasn't as dead as Billy would have liked her to be. She was going to cling to that humanity because it was the last reminder that she had a chance of being normal. Her misty form was something of a blessing and a curse. It had given her a second chance, but a chance that could never be fully lived. She was doomed to be different forever, the moments of normalcy wouldn't ever as be as pure as Greta hoped because there would always be the timer ticking away her solidity. Even the time spent with Liam - though fun - had been somewhat tainted. She had been scared of turning back, scared of revealing her true nature to the poor beat up boy. She liked Liam. Would she see him again? A part of her hoped so. It really did.
Her translucent eyes thinned when Julien finally started to speak. Greta didn't care about how he tried to defend his actions or how this man justified what he did. Murder was murder even if it was twisted to look like suicide. Secret would never change her opinion on the matter and that was final. She was generally a nice girl, she let other people have their say and listened. Not this time though, she was stubborn about this. "Of course there is nothing here" she began with her voice hoarse and dark like gravel. She tried her hardest to play the angry spirit role, but the slight shaking in her voice revealed her true intentions. "This is Arkham City. That is why she could have come to someone like me and i would have gotten her into Gotham" Greta could do that. She could go to the walls and teleport people out. That's what she had been doing for some people.
Greta's intangible hands were already curled into fists and it took everything she had not to send another flurry of attacks at this mans body and face. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to hurt so badly that he would never want to do those things again. She just wanted to make him pay. But it was this desire to see him hurt that made her doubt herself. She actually wanted to see him squirm in fear and pain, not just bring him to justice. Did other heroes feel like this? She didn't know and Secret was too afraid to ask in case they all found out the truth and judged her from it. In case they turned against her for being so violent. Then, what Julien said next threw her off and hit her like a slap in the face. It was probably one of her weaknesses, how sensitive she was to her current sate. "You think I WANT to be like this?!" her voice shook now, the anger barely being contained within her.
She floated up to match his eyelevel - not because the lack of gravity. No, Greta almost did it to show that she wasn't going to be bossed about or treated like shit just because of her height and age. "YOU THINK I WANT TO BE A GHOST?! You think i WANT to be stuck at sixteen forever, whilst my friends all age and die around me?!! You think i want to watch souls go over to the other side, knowing that I am trapped never quite passing?!" She yelled, her voice finally raising into a voice louder than a whisper. For a small girl, she created a loud noise. His words about her ghostness stung. She didn't belong. He was right, and possibly that was why it hurt so much. She didn't belong.
Her anger made her slightly foolish, but Greta didn't care. She almost liked the reaction she was provoking from Julien. The lack of gravity didn't affect her nor did she care for it. "And what gives you the right to play god and help people end their lives? What makes you so special that you and you alone must be the one to give people their "happiness"?" And then when Julien called her selfish, she stifled a mocking laugh. "Yes, Yes i am selfish" She didn't bother trying to deny it. "But isn't everyone? No-one does anything out selflessness. Even you! You can claim that you do it for the better of other people, but you can't deny that by "Helping" them you feel better. You enjoy knowing that they are "happy" don't you? THAT is selfishness, because you fain something from it, even if you didn't intend to" She tilted her head to the side, still fuming but almost trying to explain.
Group: The Wicked
Member No.: 237
Joined: 15-July 12
E X O D U S
note: Oh snap
Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat ets.
Exodus sniffed at her in mocking amusement as she mentioned Gotham, as if it were some shining utopia in comparison to Arkham. "And what do you think she would have found there? Something different than what she faced and suffered through every day of her life? There is nothing better, nothing worthwhile in that stinking hub for anyone, especially a soul that had already given up on so much." He didn't flinch as her ghostly, whisp-like form flew right into his face, the cold emptiness of the matter that surrounded her sending a chill through his skin. As she thrashed about and screamed at him in her echoing voice like a small child throwing a tantrum, Exodus realized that's just what she was. A child. Alone, separate from the rest of the world around her, never having any chance to truly experience the twists and turns, the joys and sadness of life. She yearned for it. How could she possibly understand why someone would not?
His ethereal face softened as the blazing glow from his violet iris dimmed, the gravity suddenly returning to its normal state as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "You yearn for it all, do you not? Wish for it every moment of your unnatural existence? A lost child such as yourself, with all of your future ripped away from you, could never understand the state of one such as Claire Dawes. This world, this life, this state was no longer what she wished for. But you, you dream of it every waking moment." As he said those last words, slowly and gradually, the atmosphere around the two of them darkened, and all noise, even the quiet dripping of the water from the roof, was smothered. They were completely and utterly alone, surrounded in a cocoon of mass and gravity, as he steadily held her gaze with his reflective, silver, hollow eyes.
Exodus scoffed at her as she accused him of being the selfish one. Arguing with this adolescent was becoming increasingly pointless, as she was increasingly set rigidly in her ways. "So, am I meant to enjoy suffering and sorrow? To just let it happen all around me every waking moment and not interfere? My gift, my purpose is to save others from their misery. Who would not receive joy from such a calling?" He sighed and rubbed his temples, thoroughly irritated. "Regrettably, it seems I am wasting my breath. You can never understand."
Something about her, this naive and spiteful spirit, reminded him of himself in his youthful days. He wandered about this dismal world aimlessly for so many years, feeling disconnected and without purpose, without hope, without cause. Like he was standing on the outside of the world looking in, just a bystander, never truly partaking in this grand production that was life. The world, this reality, was nothing more than a stage for its many actors and players. The scenery might change, and the characters might come and go, but it was all part of the same show, the same dance. Then a rather curious idea occurred to him, making his eyes light up with realization. "Perhaps.. I can make you understand." Exodus smiled as he said this, muttering in a sinister whisper to himself, "All the world's a stage, all the men and women merely players..." He began to pace back and forth with only his violet eye focusing on Greta as he continued to recite. "They have their exits and entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." Abruptly Exodus stopped and spun on his heels, his eyes unwavering as they bored into hers. He raised his hand and extended his index finger with a smirk curling his lip. "At first, the infant." His voice echoed loudly, deeply, with the final words acting as the trigger for an intricate spell that quickly began to unravel the reality that existed around himself and the ghost child. The scenery, the stage around them was drawn up and away into oblivion like nothing more than a curtain. For that's all it was when it came down to the core of existence: a setting in which plots unfolded over the ages.
Like threads in a tapestry the new dimension was stitched together, carefully and precisely, like the precious work of art it was. There the two of them stood, face to face, surrounded by a blank and hollow whiteness. Julien began to work against Greta, manipulating and distorting her perception of her own body, giving her a more solid, human, tangible form. He made no attempts to block the flow of his own mind, so their empty white space was dead silent. Even as Exodus walked away from her, deeper, further into this seemingly edgeless oblivion, his feet made no sound, and no wind blew against him. As he continued on, trailing Greta with him, a simple metal door came into view with a thin, paned window on the left side and a silver handle. His clawed hand rested lightly on the tip of the handle as his fingers daintily gripped it. Swiveling his body to face her, his features grew more and more inhuman and unrecognizable as he began to appear more like a creature of the fae than a mortal. "At first, the infant," Exodus repeated, his voice smooth and overlain with the cries, whispers, and sighs of a thousand strangers. "Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms." Soundlessly the door glided open and Exodus took one step past it, holding out his hand and beckoning for her to follow. "Shall we?"
She had little other choice at this point; Exodus had delved in deep from the very beginning. Escape, if possible, was going to be difficult to find and, if a route was found, excruciatingly torturous. Knowing this, a crooked, fanged grin twisted his face as he gave her the ultimatum, "Take the journey through the life you have not lived, Greta Hayes. Walk on, and escape oblivion."
He had very few doubts about which path Greta would choose, but Exodus knew. For some, facing their unchangeable past and inevitable future was a much more painful and unbearable torture than even Hell itself.
I'm so sorry for angry greta!♥ notes. Julien tagged. --- outfit
Now a days, it took a lot to frighten Greta. She could watch people die in some of the most brutal manners and witness some of the most barbaric torture and the only emotions she would feel were disappointment. Sure, some things scared her for a few seconds, but then she just reminded herself that she was dead and that nothing could really hurt her. It was a truth that she found saddening but slightly relieving. As a human, Greta wouldn't have been able to do half the things because fear always got in her way. She was held back by her mortality in some ways, because it made her fear death. Now, now she had very little to loose. Her best friends were an Amazon and one of the best archers to have ever run with the arrow family. Then, the boy she had a crush on was a former Robin. Her friends could all look after themselves and it slightly pained her to say that she didn't entirely care for her remaining family members.
But her lack of fear and her insensitivity towards gore and violence was in some ways a good thing. It allowed her to fight the perpetual filth that roamed the streets of Gotham and Arkham. Once upon a time, she had been based in metropolis, but as crime moved into other cities, Greta had followed, anxious to keep an eye on all of the crooks that she had helped put away. Though, being so numb to all the pain around her wasn't exactly a trait that Greta admired in herself. Some days, she missed how when she got scared she could just curl up in her wardrobe until it passed. How she got scared someone else would come and look out for her. Normally, that person would have been Billy... before he killed her. "I don't know what she would have found! It would just be better than here!" She defended. She knew that Gotham may not have been the best city in America, but it was healing. It was better than Arkham City by any rate.
She became wary of him as Exodus' face softened. Was he taking pity on her? Greta never wanted pity from people because of the state she was in. She knew that she just had to accept the fact that she was dead and hope for the best. She didn't want to have to be having pity from a murderer. Sure, she didn't like being a ghost and the possibility of ending up alone for the rest of her life... but no, it wasn't a life. It was an existence. It wasn't as if Greta was wasting this time. She was doing something with her existence. She fought crime and helped people. She took souls to the other side. Sure, it pained her to know that she would never join them, but there was no point wasting an eternity and moping about it. But as Exodus spread out the last few words, Greta became aware that it wasn't pity he was giving her. No, Exodus was taunting her. He was right, Greta did want to be human, but she didn't want to be taunted by criminals with a god complex. "Wouldn't you?" she spat back, showing him that his words hadn't affected her. Honestly, life was wasted on people like this.
Greta didn't care for his scoff, or what Exodus thought of her. She was a hero, there was always meant to be a better way. She was dead, she was going to want to save the living. She was a dead hero, which meant that she would never be able to understand why a murderer had the right to take lives. Not to mention that she was a child, there wasn't a way in hell that Greta would be able to change her mind. Not after seeing so much. She may not have been as smart as Julien or nearly as powerful, but she held her own in fights against scum like him. "So instead you let them live a lie? Tell me, how is giving them fake happiness anything better than them being sad?" she asked, her temper flaring. "It's cruel what you do, you give people hope when there is none, then sooner or later you take it away from them because someone else offers you more money. It's sick." She shook her head, not enjoying this at all.
She never stopped glaring at him, not taking notice of when Exodus' eyes lit up. Even when reality began to bend around her, Greta didn't flinch or make a move which suggested that she even noticed to whiteness that surrounded the two of them. Her angry gaze never faltered, not until she felt a physical body in place of her spirit form. She looked down, surprised. But she suppressed the surge of happiness, making sure that he didn't see how pleased it made her to have a physical shape and not just mist. Greta ran her fingers over her skin, playing with her clothes and finally her hair. She was solid... she was holding a solid form and she wasn't even concentrating. She was completely distracted from Julien for the time being, though it was a stupid mistake to make. She followed him without thinking, still finding her solid form something of a marvel. It was something that she had wanted, and could create for herself. Except, when she did, it made her incredibly tired and only lasted for a short while if she were doing it consecutively.
It wasn't until Julien spoke in front of the door did Greta look up at him again. Suddenly, a great deal of pain showed in her face because she realised that this wasn't real. "Stop this." she ordered, her sad broken expression changing back into one of rage. She was angry, angry that he had sucked her in like just another fool, angry at herself because she had let herself get carried up into his false reality. "Drop the stupid fake dimension. It isn't real and i don't care for it" she continued, her tone wavering with the anger she contained. "I would rather stay as a spirit than live a lie. Live one of your lies." and she meant it. She didn't want to be just another victim, especially since Exodus couldn't just kill her at the end of it. "I don't care if you can make me have a solid form or if you can change all the terrible things Iíve seen. I would so much rather live with them than without because it has made me who i am." she shook her head again, curling one of her hands into a fist, "and if Iím going to be solid, Iíd rather it be on my own terms." she added as an afterthought. She hadn't moved like Exodus prompted her to and didn't care how much it would hurt coming back to the reality. She just didn't want to get caught up in silly dreams that were never going to happen. There was just no point to them.
Group: The Wicked
Member No.: 237
Joined: 15-July 12
E X O D U S
note: Oh snap
Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat ets.
What an insolent, ignorant, and sniveling little brat he was dealing with.
He took pity on her, truly he did, but did she have to remain more obstinate? It was clear that she was even more blinded and narrowminded than he had originally perceived. He supposed staying in one perpetual state for so long tended to warp the mind and leave it frozen, trapped in one place, much like her physical form was. Even knowing this did little to sedate him. A frigid smile curled his lips as the door behind him slammed shut and faded back into oblivion, leaving them alone in this blank and hollow space, just waiting to be filled by the flights of Exodus' fancy. The world was his canvas, and upon it he would paint a rather gruesome, painful image.
All this effort for someone who had no appreciation whatsoever for his art. It was truly obscene.
"I couldn't agree more," he said, his voice smooth and betraying none of the fury boiling just beneath the white surface. Living on without her past would indeed be absurd, but that was not Exodus' direction in the least. Perhaps he had started far too early. His eyes narrowed and zoned in on her as he said, his voice echoing, "Since it appears you are quite satisfied with the things of the past, perhaps we should fast forward. Children do have such terribly short attention spans. Then a soldier, full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, seeking the bubble reputation." With those words the cornerless walls of this alternate dimensions were plastered with a collage of flashes of images and scenes that flew past in a blur, an invisible track yanking them forward at a breakneck speed. They came to a thundering halt, but this time the world around them had changed. They stood on a street, surrounded by an air of smog and decrepit city buildings, a chill passing through them as raindrops quietly fell and formed puddles on the sidewalk, cars zooming by and the tip-taps of feet against the pavement the only sounds. Exodus focused Greta's attention on one singular, blond haired, thin young woman, dressed in business casual attire, juggling a cellphone, a stack of papers, and a tray of four steaming hot cups of coffee, hurrying down the wet pavement and talking excitedly to whoever it was on the other line.
"This is what you missed out on," Exodus said casually as he walked along at a steady pace behind the woman, yawning with apathy and boredom. She zipped through the crowds until she reached a large, grey, nondescript office building, kicking the door open with her only free appendage and shoving her way through, being bombarded by clients and co workers the moment she stepped through the threshold. She set the coffee down on a nearby table as well as the stack of papers, and a mere moment of carelessness later, both were in a soggy heap on the ground. Hurriedly she went to clean up the mess and attempt to salvage her papers that had taken her all night and day to write up for her boss's due date, and they began to stick together from the pungent liquid. Still she argued with a client on the phone and had her husband on the other line and they argued about dinner and housework and how her taxes are overdue and how she wasn't pulling her weight and the house was dirty and the kids were coming home late and everything was just so immediately important that he couldn't possibly let her get back to work.
After she finally managed to get the courage to hang up she rolled up her sleeves and set to typing away at least a hundred reports in one day, filed the old records, dealt with her unfair and greedy boss, did a coffee round for everyone in the office twice, handled angry customers screaming in her ear when all she was allowed to do was apologize, and then finally trudging her way home an hour after the shift was over.
The two of them followed the woman to her home and peered in through the window, watching the mother of three struggle with her children while her husband sat and drank and got fat. "Look at it, Greta. This is all the spectacular opportunity you lost. Everything you ever dreamed about, right here. That would have been you."
They watched the rest of her day as she yelled and ran about and wiped noses and mopped floors and cooked dinner and was generally unappreciated throughout the entire ordeal. Then she went to bed, alone, curled up in her covers, and lay there, wide awake, sniffling and wiping her red eyes, her mind racing with regrets, keeping her from sleep. "What a shame you missed out. All the long hours, the thankless work, the to and fro, the careless husband, the screaming children, the cleaning, the cooking, the fighting, the yelling, the pain, the anger, the exhaustion, the expectations." As he spoke the scene around them wound up and ran through, faster and faster, until it was spinning around at dizzying speed, each day only slightly different than the last. Then it came to a sudden halt, and Exodus and Greta were standing before her grave. "You would have survived to see 80 without your brother in the equation. But, would you have lived?" He paced around the cemetery, dried autumn leaves crunching beneath his heels. "Too often it is said, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." Exodus turned to face Greta, holding her gaze. "But you, Greta, are a different case. For it seems that what did kill you, made you the strongest you would have ever been."
He tilted his head and came a step closer to her. "Isn't that what we all strive for? Strength? Purpose? Meaning? As much as your own purpose infuriates me, you have found it. And you have found it in death. There was nothing for you in life. Nothing but bitter monotony."
urrgh, sorry for the wall of text, Greta had a lot to say♥ notes. Julien tagged. --- outfit
Greta didn't enjoy thinking about her past, her present or her future. She didn't really like thinking in general, she didn't like thinking about her life in general. Partially, because what she had now, as a ghostly superhero, wasn't a life at all. It wasn't a life, because she didn't have a heart beating in her ribs, she didn't have any real meaning in the breaths she took. She wasn't living. She was existing. she was just there, not really doing anything of purpose until she had to. She couldn't be a normal person, going to school like her friends did, like all the other sixteen year old girls in the world did. She didn't have that many sleepovers anymore, because all of her other friends had moved on to other things.
She couldn't even ever be with her crush. Though, that was more or less because he had no clue she liked him and there was at least two other girls crushing on him. Both of the others girls were (of course) far prettier and nicer and generally just far better than Greta in every way. Oh, they were both alive too. That was always a plus when looking for a potential boyfriend/girlfriend; having a pulse. There wasn't a person around who, when they saw her, didn't see the ghost before the girl. Even those who claimed not to be bothered by it... they must have noticed it because sooner or later it always came up. Greta was shy, introverted a first. She had a wall built around her and she didn't really trust that easily. It was worse now, now that she actually knew how she died. Her own family... A boy who she had trusted with everything... Sometimes, Greta assumed that she'd be better off not knowing a thing about her past. Bit were still hazy; and by bits, Greta meant that she had less that twenty proper, fully remembered, memories.
And with so few memories, came another reason for Greta not to ponder the issues of her existence - there was nothing to ponder. She was better off just existing for the now and focusing on doing the only things she could really do - taking souls to the other side and fighting the bad guys, because the bad guys needed to be fought. She could remember the time that some guy was asking for a fight... a stupid memory really. He was asking for a fight and she had agreed, but not here - not outside the headquarters. And then she had told him about where they were going, and that there might be a fight there. Then, because she was happy and kinda excited, she asked the other young justice members if he could come... Bart had agreed. Of course he had. Impulse was almost exactly what his codename had suggested - impulsive. Now that she was thinking about him, she could feel those familiar pangs of guilt go through her intangible body and pull at her unbeating heart. The last trace of her humanity was in her emotions, and as much pain as they caused her, she didn't want to let them go. She couldn't sink into being a ghost with no feelings and get lost in the endless misery that was death. Sure, she wasn't always the happiest of beings, but Greta could still laugh. She could still smile.
But her smiles, a simple motion that could light up her face and her eyes and make her look much prettier than sadness ever could, was wasted in Arkham. With her ghostly appearance, no-one cared for whether the being was smiling or not. Just caring about whether or not this ghost was going to kill them... Even Rager, though she had spared a few smiles for him, had seen her more as an embodiment of his conscience. Though he had not been afraid of her, Rager still assumed he was dead. She had liked him, in a strange sense. Greta just thought he was lost, and she kind of wanted to help him. Maybe she'd throw him a text or something once she finally got her emotions in check again, just to see how he was doing. Rager was a killer, but he wasn't like Julien... she had seen how he almost regretted it, after had had killed them. He had just seemed lost... a little bit like she was. A misguided ghost, just looking for who they really were and all the time trying not to get lost in the madness of the world around them. She wanted to call him a friend, but knew that if she had to, she would also have to bring him in if he didn't clean up his act of killing people whenever he felt like it.
But she watched platonically as Exodus showed her the "future". She watched as the young woman struggled with her life - which didn't really look that great. Now that she looked at it, she didn't think she was missing out at all. "Oh, gee" she said, draining all sense of emotion from her voice. Except for one. Thank the lord for teenage sarcasm. Something that Greta had never fully let go of. Why would she? Admittedly, this future that he showed didn't look all the exciting. Greta couldn't remember what she wanted to be when she grew up. Childish wishes and dreams had been one of the many aspects of her life that had gotten lost in her death. As she followed the woman home, still not another emotion spread across her face or in her body language. Her being just hung there, not even bothering to keep her feet flat, like she would have done. Greta didn't know why she kept her feet flat most days, because she wasn't really standing on anything. She supposed it just looked better than "hanging" in the air. "Really?" she asked, though her tone didn't inspire neither belief nor disbelief. She kept her responses short, as though not to provoke any unnecessary violence nor "tellings off". Yes, she had realized that Exodus saw her as nothing but a child.
Then, as the pair stood in front of her grave, Greta smiled. But it was a sad smile... so here she was. Again. If Exodus had thought that showing the dead girl her grave would make any kind of impact on her, then he was wrong. She was used to seeing her grave, she remembered waking up there one day. Meeting the Young Justice team and... she remembered making friends. Which only made her smile sadder. "But is that really what would have happened to me? I don't remember what I wanted to be when I grew up... but I do know that the future isn't definite. There are infinite possibilities of decisions and reactions. I had a lot of options... I could of become anything" she said, the anger and platonic voice slowly shifting into one of regretful sadness. [i]"But, even if I got stuck in that marriage, had that job... Who's to say that i couldn't change that for myself? Get a divorce and be an awesome single mum or something? And you know... even if i get stuck dead end job and a marriage... i would still have aged. I would still have gotten older. I would of had someone to love me, no matter how briefly. I think I would still pick that over being stuck, unaging and watching my friends die around me." she choked a little on the word die, but made sure to reign in her voice and to not show weakness. [i]"I would still have picked being loved once rather than not loved at all... I would still have picked to have people look at me for the smile and the girl instead of the ghost."
And as Exodus began to pace, Greta turned away from him. She was trying to bury those long gone wishes down inside of her once more. She couldn't show him weakness. "You think that this is strong? I am, as you so rightfully pointed out, a selfish little girl. I more often than not spend time on my own wallowing in my sadness because i pity myself. I watch the world around me change and move on and I envy them. I turned to being a hero because a part of me honestly felt like i had no other choice." she shook her head, unsure of why she was telling this to him, but she didn't stop. "There are days when I want nothing more than to kill the people that do wrong... and the only thing stopping me is my ability to not be able to hold a solid form for very long. How can you say that stupid, ugly qualities like that are strength?" Her tone grew colder as she bashed herself more. Greta was an insecure person, and only now it was truly being shown. She listened as the leaves crinkled as he took a step closer, but her small frame and lowered head didn't bother turning to look at him. She hated how real this all sounded. How, if she let herself, she could have gotten lost in the fantasy of being normal. "Pupose?" Greta let out a disbelieving snort for a laugh. "I fight crime and save people. But more importantly... I take souls to the other side and watch them move on to their final resting place; knowing that I can never join them. That is not a purpose... that is a punishment"
Group: The Wicked
Member No.: 237
Joined: 15-July 12
E X O D U S
note: Jules talks a lot
Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat ets.
Julien was not a cruel man. Or, at least, he did not believe himself to be. After all, cruelty was a product of hatred, of despair, of senseless violence and wickedness. None of which Julien thought he had the soul to carry. And yet it seemed, as they stood there, wrapped in this deep and vast cocoon of what might have been, he felt a pang within his heart, a deep-set, guilty throbbing that pulsed to his fingertips like a sickly wave. It caught in his throat, seized his muscles like a paralyzed victim as he stood, the weight of Greta's self-loathing pressing down on his shoulders.
The child was utterly miserable.
Who was he to condone her purgatory, this endless game of tag that she would never win, like an apple dangling just inches from her lips in a dry desert? Wasn't Exodus, and Julien within him, meant to be a messenger of mirth? Of happiness? With hard eyes and a vacant expression the autumn gradually shifted into an icy winter, the frosty winds blurring the edges of this world as it all faded, painlessly, gently, much like the darkness faded in the moment before death. They were back in that comfort blanket of whiteness, a blank slate, a new beginning. Exodus' alien features shifted into the gentle and broken eyes of a man who had seen it all, who had lived this life and still turned his back on it. Perhaps they would never understand each other, Julien and this ghostly girl, simply because their directions were parallel, but opposite. Never meeting, never converging. The East and the West existed together but never touched, fated to travel on infinitely in separate ways, as did these two damaged souls.
Julien stood in silence for a moment, the only sound breaking the thickness was the puffs of his breath, a thing of life. Something Greta hadn't done for a long time, he assumed. Such little things they all took for granted. He laughed bitterly at the thought. "It.. It truly is an injustice. You hold so preciously what we all toss over our shoulders without a backward glance. It must destroy you, seeing such a beautiful place in the hands of such ugly people." Julien glanced downward, feeling like the distance between himself and Greta was expanding, but he stood still. He kneeled and swiped a finger over the tiled floor, rubbing the dust and grime briefly before smiling scornfully. "The human race has become little more than dust, waiting to fall, and then to be swept away."
Julien had been exasperated by the despicable creatures he had been forced to inhabit this planet with for quite some time. Only now did he realize the true depth of his scorn. Greta provoked him in a way that only one other man in the living universe could, but thankfully she was not nearly as dangerous. The thought of Grant dug a trench in his heart and left him feeling hollow, tired. He was so perpetually trying and frustrating and just plain mad, but somehow, Julien could not free himself from the shackles of Grant's madness. Much like he was chained to this broken world.
He sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists. "When I close my eyes, it is not this world I see, but one I cannot touch, one I cannot embrace. My own Elysium, one could say. I am suspended, I am motionless, much like yourself. My happiness is not here, and it never will be." Julien scoffed harshly. "The grass is always greener, I suppose."
A sudden thought, a dangerous and potentially chaotic thought, swarmed into Julien's mind like a horde of locusts. He raised his eyes steadily until he held Greta's translucent gaze, the hints of a smile dancing in his eyes and his cheeks. "Tell me, Greta Hayes. If you are so set in your belief that your life, if you had been permitted to have it, would not have been as pointless, what would you have done with it?" Julien turned his brows upward slightly. "Life is a gift. We as people are entitled to nothing, not even the dirt beneath our feet. We so often forget that, believing we are of some great importance. But in the grand scheme of things..." Julien smiled. "We are just another star in the night sky."
He took a step toward her, his blue eyes twinkling with intrigue. "Perhaps what we all need is a little touch of loss. Something to reminds us all what lucky bastards we are." Julien looked over Greta once more, the lump in his throat still hardening. He cleared his throat once, barely able to believe his own mind right now. "But you've seen it all, haven't you? You know how fleeting and merciless it all is." Julien smiled at her with genuine admiration. "You could change the world, given the chance." He paused for a moment, brushing his fingers over his chin in wonder. "The only piece that's missing is a vessel, something that exists on this plane of matter. Something I could provide without too much difficulty." Julien looked her directly in the eye as he rested his hands on her wispy shoulders. "You could live again."
Julien was right, of course, Greta was miserable. She had gone two years without ever feeling truly accepted by anyone. Two years that in reflection, held a lot more suffering than joy. Even the brief-lived warmth that came from Young Justice had died into simple embers. Not even a former flame of what it once was. That light had been taken from her into the Teen Titans. But she was still here, she was still soldiering on. Greta would help people until the world ended around her or until she was dragged down to tell. Because it had to be hell, didn't it? She was too tainted for heaven, yet too pure for hell; and more often than not, things could only get worse. Greta was aware of her own issues, her personal self loathing, self doubting and every other negative aspect that she held towards herself. She was aware of them and they ate her constantly. But she didn't do anything about them, because she didn't know how to. And other people came first. She had the whole of forever to sort out her problems, whilst most people only had those eighty years or so of a lifetime to sort out theirs.
Well, she had eternity, or until the next one like her came along. Till someone took her place as a "warder" of souls. She could let people in, stop them from entering (depending on the circumstances) but never set foot inside. Not until someone took her place. But even then, where would she go? Heaven? Hell? Somewhere that was neither? Was this, eternal job and punishment, already that? Even Spectre couldn't make her feel any better about her current situation. He understood her, and wasn't afraid of her in the slightest. Spectre was her mentor. He knew death and she trusted him. He might have not exactly been the softest spoken person in the world, but sometimes she needed a little bit of a harsh truth. It's what kept her together really, knowing the truth about herself and eventually coming to accept it. She wasn't going to come back to life, and so she had to just make the most of what she had now. Eventually....she could find someone to love her properly, love her like a normal girl. Maybe. If she was lucky. She already had some friends, no matter how like it felt as if they had all left her. Greta just needed to see them again. They still loved her. Didn't they?
If they didn't, it would have been an understatement to say that she would have been crushed. To have no-one in the world even care about whether or not she got hurt, or want to try and defend her if she was belittled, or if someone ever wanted to try and screw her over and it meant that Greta would have no shoulder to cry on... she didn't think that she would be able to take it. If that ever happened, there would be nothing stopping her from giving herself over to the DEO, or laying down on a train line. She wouldn't be able to kill herself, but it would be either passed out due to a concentrated and continuous pain for her to be perpetually passed out until someone took her place or the world ended. Maybe it wouldn't be too long now.... not until she was freed from this. How pathetic did she sound? Wanting to be free of something that made her so strong? She was incapable of dying fully, had power beyond her real knowledge. She was so much stronger than she looked, but Greta still doubted herself, she still thought herself as nothing and more often than not let people treat her that way. When was the last time she really stood up for herself? When she stopped people from kicking her into the dirt?
Not for a long long time, not really. She was loosing the will to exist, yet she couldn't take her life like so many other people who could. Thatís because she wasn't even really alive. She wasn't really dead. She was trapped and didn't belong anywhere. But she always tried so hard to not let it get to her. But it did. It bugged her every waking thought, every single moment in her existence. She didn't belong. She didn't belong. She would never be accepted. Not even by her friends. Yet still she fought for people and defended them. She was going to fight for them because it was all she knew how to do. Greta kept her eyes on the floor, hiding the abyss from the world and from Julien because she doubted that it was a realm he held control over. No-one held control over it. The abyss was simply a realm between the after life and the living, it was raw and powerful and it had sent many people insane. That was another of Greta's curses, she could never look at people. Not directly in the eye, anyhow.
Due to her overwhelming hatred of Julien, (okay so it was at least a very strong dislike) she didn't sympathize with him and his world that was forever kept from him. He already had so much power over the world he had now. She had power, more than she knew, but still Greta didn't know how to utilize it all. "I don't know what I would have done with it. I would have worked hard at school, maybe tried to get into an art school. I don't know" she repeated, somewhat pathetically. How weak she must have sounded, when there was still wild fury burning in her. She was still angry at him, at the world, but her sheer feeling of being lost and hopeless still managed to cut her down with barely a thought. She nodded, at his questions, she had seen it all. She had experienced so much. Yet, "I can't change something that Iím not a part of" was her honest belief. She spoke curtly, knowing that she was never going to change.
As his hands rested on her wispy shoulders, Greta looked up at him with slight disbelief and a mixture of hope and the faintest threads of anger. Was he lying to her? Was he pulling her leg in some kind of sick type of game or suffering? She shrugged her shoulder out of his grip, shaking her head and trying to bury the foolishly placed hope. "And for how long? Until you get bored and take my life from me, as quickly as you can give it to me?" she looked at him in disbelieve, trying not to let herself become too foolishly hopeful. "I cannot escape this, not until someone takes my place or the world ends. You can't give me something that i know is impossible" she shook her head and looked at him with a lingering expression of pain and sadness. "You shouldn't meddle in things that you can't change. I need to just stop being such a stupid baby and move on" her voice wavered again and she turned around, not wanting to face him.