Theseus/Minotaur
The arrival was quite an unremarkable one.
Katse had been out of the bath for long enough to dry himself and put some clothes on. When the other arrived, he was busy staring at all the bottles he emptied, wondering how can he still stand.
“Game over.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to kill you know.”
“Weren’t you supposed to damage me enough for those genes to activate?”
“Well, yeah. Yes, indeed. However once you will become the real Hagith and not just some half-baked hybrid you are now, the former you will cease to exist completely. Though… with me wearing your uniform, it’s not like you exist anyway.”
“But I know I exist.”
“Oh, do you now? How can you be sure of anything? Your memory is a feeble thing anyway.”
“Because you people meddled with it.”
“So you noticed? Well done. However we only removed few insignificant details to make you not-Berg Katse in the eyes of those people. That’s it. The memories you had were pretty boring anyway. Why do you think it was so easy to separate you from your name? You don’t even have an existence outside this pathetic syndicate.”
“…you talk too much.”
“Sorry. My bad. I’ve been dead for six months after all. I would’ve sorted things out here and now, but I… really hate this room. Follow me if you want. Actually, you can’t not follow me. You don’t have any other choice. Oh, before we go, there is one more thing. Let me congratulate you. With all the head injuries you have sustained so far, I’m actually surprised you still look the way you look and act the way you do. None of my useless sisters were this resistant. Well, no matter how good your resistance, I’ll put an end to it soon.
Laughing quietly to himself he left.
Katse followed him after a while.
This was not a matter of free will or choices. He was a murderer, therefore he had to murder. The sensation of squeezing the life out of Maureen/Phul reminded him of that fact. And the events leading up to that reminded him of his reasoning. All of this was necessary. It was an effect of a cause. He had no other choice but to obey causality. His will played no part here, as usual. All things serve a purpose. It was one rule he couldn’t violate, even with the special kind of physique he had.
When his feet finally moved, he had no doubts as to which way was he supposed to go. Somehow he knew. Something inside of him spoke in a gentle, serene, convincing tone.
Yes, let us go and defeat him. He already made his mark. At this point nothing will happen if he disappears. He went up ahead. The trail is so clear. We can see it, can’t we?
But then what?
The faint voice of his common sense asked.
What do we mean? We can inscribe our mark, if that is what we wish for. We can remake the world. Make it bend to our will. Aren’t we going to be happy, once we turned the world into something we can understand and something that can understand us back?
But do I wish for it?
Do we? Of course we do. We wish for it dearly. It might even be our greatest wish. Connection to others without fear and without shame. The happiness of one will become the happiness of all. This is what we want. To be happy. To connect to others.
Yes… to be happy… to connect to others…
See?
But then why do I need to defeat that man?
What he seeks isn’t nearly as pure as what you seek. Och wishes for recognition, fame and longevity. Only our and Aratron’s wishes are pure enough for us two to be left alive. This is but a facet of the causality.
Is that so? What does Aratron wish for?
A noble wish. He wants to see their happiness. He translated the books and executed the rites thinking: If I can live long enough to see all of them happy, it will be okay if I die. Unfortunately in this world such a wish leads to nothing but scorn and jeering. The purer the wish, the worse one is treated for it. There is a widespread and truthful belief that strife strengthens character, and that a light shines the brightest when the night is at its zenith. But that only means that there is something flawed within this world. Those sayings make suffering, pain, and injustice sound as if they were something indispensable and noble. Just think of all the world religions and count the ratio of gods-warriors and gods who spread their teaching through love. It is sad. That is why the world needs people with pure wishes.
Are you Hagith?
Hagith? Our name is ‘I’. Though we can be Hagith as well, depending on who is thinking of us; nevertheless our most important name is ‘I’.
Then what am I?
If by I ‘you’ mean the content of this container of flesh and blood, then to explain it plainly with all the correct labels and tags:
I={Hagith+{Berg Katse M + Berg Katse F}}
Think of it like… yes. Like a Strawberry Daiquiri for example. Crushed ice isn’t Strawberry Daiquiri. Strawberry isn’t Strawberry Daiquiri. White rum isn’t Strawberry Daiquiri.
I see.
Well, we wonder if there is something we wish for before we begin with this cockfight.
A song.
A song?
Yes.
Is it a nice song?
Yes.
Is it a pure song?
Yes.
Which song is it?
First part of Debussy’s Nocturnes. The Clouds. I would like to hear it.
The vaulted, narrow hallways were suddenly filled with a slow, solemn melody. A moment later he reached the door. Its steely-grey wings were flanked by two paintings, both by Whistler. Nocturne in Black and Gold to the left, Nocturne in Blue and Gold to the right. He touched them first before he touched the door. The coarse surface of many layers of paint felt reassuring. If possible, he wanted to look at them for a bit longer, but his opponent was right on the other side.
He grasped the handle and pushed the door open.
“Too bad you only wished for a useless, dumb song. You should’ve wished for something like a gun. Or an axe.” The other Katse greeted him and Katse was once more reminded of the futility of names. For some the one in front of him was Joshua MacNab. For others he was Och. And for others he was Berg Katse.
Some of his thoughts must’ve had appeared on Katse’s face, for the other Katse smirked and asked:
“So if I am Berg Katse and you are Berg Katse, does that mean I will be fighting myself?”
“No. I am me. You are you. I am a murderer and you are the necessity. That’s all.”
The other Katse threw his head back and laughed.
“I see it this way. You are currently a hybrid between a normal person and a being like us. A monster. And I am the Greek hero. Hero is as hero does, so it is my responsibility to defeat you.”
He held his hand high, palm down. There was a soft, whispering sound as his palm split open. A dark crimson spear slid effortlessly out of a dark crimson glove. It looked like a magician’s trick. Together with the musical piece, which followed Katse all the way to the battlegrounds, it created an ethereal atmosphere belying the reason behind the meeting of the two participants.
The other Katse charged few seconds after the strings started to play.
Following the course of music, Katse waited until the very last moment, made one step, then another, and jumped, executing a perfect pas de chat, hitting his opponent in the face with his knee. He thought it was a tooth, but what left the other Katse’s mouth, what was spat out, was a capsule with explosives. Katse jumped back, covering his head. There was a flash of light, an explosion. He jumped away before the cloud of smoke cleared, expecting his opponent to use it for cover. Right he was.
It scratched his ribs. A long blade. At first he didn’t know what it was, but the second swing revealed it – the long, crimson scythe.
“Why did you do that?” Katse asked, realising he sounded rather dim-witted. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t even think of asking.
“Why? Well, of course to hurt you. So you would shed this stupid girly face of yours. You are an embarrassment.”
Another swing. The tip of the scythe hit the floor, cracking several tiles. Katse rolled to the side.
“Do you think this is the correct way to do it?”
“It’s Hagith speaking now, isn’t it? You little wretch. I give wisdom. I give riches. I am worshipped as a deity, second only to Aratron, while the only thing you have to do is sit on a pedestal and look pretty!”
Katse jumped on his feet and quickly ducked to avoid having his belly split open, however the other Katse didn’t stop his weapon to change its direction. He slammed its snaith into Katse’s upper arm, hooked him on the grips and flung him across the room.
“Useless! You are useless in combat! ” the other Katse laughed swinging the scythe again, hitting Katse with its tang and then smashing the dull end of the blade against his shins as he struggled to maintain his balance.
“And you were supposed to be a terrorist leader? What is this? What the flying fuck is this? Completely worthless! You can’t even defend yourself! Actually, I’m doing you a favour. Isn’t it better for someone with actual combat knowledge to be Berg Katse?”
The scythe cut through the air again, but this time Katse wasn’t hit by the dull side. The blade pierced his chest right between the sixth and the seventh rib, slicing through his lung, emerging through his back, splattering the wall with blood. Hadn’t Katse been shielding his head, his arm would be cut off. He cried out, blood suffusing his airways.
“See? See? This is much more beautiful. Like red flowers. Yes, you should finally give up and climb on your pedestal, dumbass!”
“Worthless? Worthless just because my only job is to be pretty? But you are forgetting one thing. You might give them knowledge and riches, but it is up to you what you give them. While… if they look upon me, they attain happiness in the shape they wish for. A happiness… which gives strength. A happiness, which erases all the bad things.” The bleeding man uttered in what was hardly more than a whisper.
Somehow he managed to get back on his feet, though he kept coughing out droplets of blood. Somehow, even though he was on the losing side, he managed to glare at his subjugator. And somehow he actually succeeded in making the one bearing the scythe look uncomfortable.
“You are as idiotic as you always were! People don’t know what makes them happy! Someone has to show them! That’s why they have gods! That’s why they have righteousness! ” the other Katse shouted, scraping the bloodied scythe against the floor and walls, leaving long cuts behind.
“In that case, you misunderstood something fundamental about gods.” Katse stated with an unshakeable steadfastness.
The pair of yellow eyes behind opaque lenses widened. Teeth were bared.
Katse didn’t try to dodge.
Judging from the way he kept staring at his double, maybe he didn’t even think about dodging.
Snap!
His upper arm didn’t withstand a blow of that fierceness. He reeled back and hit the ground face-first.
The scythe didn’t stop.
Katse’s head flung up, mouth opening in a silent scream. The blade pierced him, pinning him to the ground, going through his back, slicing through his diaphragm, severing three of his ribs. The other Katse gave the scythe a swift kick right under the ring, severing the shaft from the blade.
Ice
Ice
Ice
He was so cold.
Why am I so cold? What is this feeling? If you are supposed to be so glorious, why do I always feel as if I’m freezing to death?
Why? That is not me. It is your fear. The fear of the unknown. I am the unknown.
Oh, I see.
What do you want to do now? Shall I finally help you?
I don’t care. I just… WANT TO TAKE THAT BASTARD OUT!
“Well then, your pitiful body won’t hold for long. I shall take my leave then to give you some privacy for your screams. You should thank me. Thank me and be grateful. And if you are in too much of pain, you can even worsh-“
The other Katse didn’t finish the sentence. Something crashed into his back and there was searing pain in his chest. He looked down and stared at the toe of his own scythe he had been skewered with. He spun around, but his attacker had already collapsed, a pool of blood spreading around him.
“Damn that son of a bitch!”
Enraged by the fact that that useless wretch dared to raise his hand against him, he kicked the lying man with all his might. His boot crushed several more ribs. Katse flew a few metres and hit the wall. Unfortunately for the other Katse, his original didn’t seem to be conscious anymore, which took some of the satisfaction away.
The other Katse spat on the floor and left. Though he assimilated the blade back into his body, his wound didn’t close. Probably because it used to be a part of him. Or a part of the building. Whichever. With an injury like that, he ought to return underground to Elef-Kehe-Eynayim, or at least rest for a while, but he was far too aggravated for that. What he wanted to do the most was to give someone wisdom and riches. The wisdom of pain and the riches of death.
Author's Chapter Notes:
All Science Ninja Team Gatchaman characters belong to Tatsunoko Productions.
Chapter End Notes:
The Clouds, or 'Nuages' in original, is one of my favourite pieces from Debussy, though I'm not that partial to him. It's creation, along with the other two nocturnes, was inspired by those two Whistler paintings mentioned above. Listen to it on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkmwzG7cB_U - Here for example. I like it best when it's conducted by Alexander Rahbari, but unfortunately this version isn't there (plus that's purely a personal opinion). The Clouds clock just over six minutes, which is pretty short for a classical piece.
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I tried to avoid writing 'cockfight' as it brings out my inner six years old, but alas, roosterfight just doesn't cut it. At my former workplace we had chickens and roosters which woke me up every single morning until the fox got them, and I tried to explain the whole cock/rooster joke to my mother, however these things are doomed to be lost in translation, I suppose, and I merely got a blank look.
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I tried to avoid writing 'cockfight' as it brings out my inner six years old, but alas, roosterfight just doesn't cut it. At my former workplace we had chickens and roosters which woke me up every single morning until the fox got them, and I tried to explain the whole cock/rooster joke to my mother, however these things are doomed to be lost in translation, I suppose, and I merely got a blank look.