Cassowarysaur — Roleplayer Guild

Yeshua's hands were still hanging over his face, hiding his emotions from the world. He hadn't shown many different feelings anymore, but the chance of anyone reading him was slim. He hadn't moved for many minutes. Eventually, when the muscles in his arms began to ache, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out his omni-use device, a hologram emitting into his view. The boy flicked through the three dimensional screens and arrived at the Pilot's profiles. It was frightening that almost half of them had been eliminated already. The first on the list had the most potentional, Yeshua realised. Stukov's mugshot seemed to stare back at him. Even if it was just an amalgamation of pixels, it striked a very horrifying point to the boy. This person was dead. The all-caps imprint beneath the picture explained that very well and coldly. DECEASED lay beneath Stukov's empty eyes, like a file ready to be sorted into its appropriate drawer and never be touched again. 

Did he even have any family? Yeshua dreamt the sight of a funeral with no one attending, or a cremation in an empty room. Who had cried over this young man's death? The more he dug into the tomb of his mind, the more Yeshua felt sympathy for him.

Who would cry if he died tomorrow?

Sympathy didn't revive people. Sympathy didn't save people. Sympathy made him weak and prone to acting out. It made him weak. He didn't realise his feet were tapping together again.

His feet shuffled underneath the chalk-white table, the bruise on his leg fading. His emotions to the dead should fade just as well, he assured himself. The other two missing pilots, while not deceased, were useless to the cause and treated that way. Miles would never function as a normal human being again and Ryan had tried to attack Lorenzo. They had deserved everything to come to them, and as such, there was no empty, twisting feeling in his stomach. 

The next pilot stabbed him in the gut. It was Elora, the young girl who, to Yeshua, was so pompous as to think that she had been "bullied". He had tried to help her, tried to show her that a liability in the Corps would only end up with everyone being worse off, but she had deflected those harsh words back at him so easily. While he did pride himself in being to shift an argument, Elora had made him feel so ill not because she was a wordsmith. 

Trying to clear his head, Yeshua left his seat and vacated the mess hall, an empty tray in his place.

After her conversation with Orion, Elora decided to take a tour through Solaire, the advanced training facility where they would work on their squad skills and become the ultimate fighting force of humanity itself. It was a big burden, but Elora didn't think much of it, believing that she would be a valuable memeber of the unit if she was strong like Lora told her to be. She had to prove it to everyone, even naysayers like Yeshua. Elora still wondered what even happened with the boy; was it a misuderstanding, or whether she was actually the kind of person to aggravate others? 

As she wondered about it, she found herself in the recreation area, which included different kinds of rooms; a game room, a library, and even a silent, room where one could find a moment of peace. Elora, interested in growing up to be an engineer, first went to check out the game console that was fitted for use. However, the collection of games on it didn't interest her; Hour of Honor, Battlezone, Killstrike and the rest were shooting games, and Elora felt she has done enough of it for today. It was easy to think that shooting and killing was fun and exciting if you only played games and saw movies about it, but being there and actually doing it for real wasn't fun, at least to her. Then again, maybe she could try them out, she decided. It could be a nice break from reality.

He moved like a leaf in the wind, silent and purposeless. There had been very little to do recently. After the intrepid and interesting "conversation" with Lorenzo, which had left one of the pilots in intensive care, he had felt a slight emptiness at the thought of relaxation. Yeshua wondered if escapism was going to be helpful when he had so much resting on his mind. As the boy moved silently to the recreational area, he decided to allow himself some enjoyment, but not enough to make him forget the duties and responsibities he had on his shoulders. Leaning on one of the walls, he took off his glasses and began to clean them, while peering over at the different rooms he could enter. 

An empty but ethereal chamber caught his attention. He moved forward slowly and threw his head inside, observing that it was empty. While he couldn't tell, a cardboard-like substance shot out in different directions like an elaborate art piece, falling between different layers. Horizontal and vertical panels were orientated perpindicular but almost randomly against each other in an effective way to  block out almost all sound from the outside world. Yeshua realised the door was also constructed this way. 

His thought was broken when a masculine voice erupted from the other room. It was cliche and American, being run through at least three different audio transformers. Gunfire soon followed. He didn't even flinch as he took a peak around the corner and saw Elora sitting down, casually, jamming the different buttons of the controller. A frown morphed onto his face as his eyebrows narrowed. Beside the large TV was an appealing pool table, the green fabric of the table in top quality. The budget of the Solaire building must have been impressive, Yeshua almost smirked. 

He flew over to the pool table and found a well-crafted wooden chair placed adjacent to the wall and the cue rack. The cues were as superbly shaped as the table was; they were the gentlemen's sword, a scabbard and a rapier all in one. The only thing that was missing was the chalk. Yeshua's eyes lit up as he snatched the chalk off its resting place on the side of the table. 

"Pool was always a better escape than any virtual reality." He remarked, the chalk rubbing back and forth on the end of the cue. He spoke in almost a whisper, but just loud enough for it to overcome the noise of the video game. 

Elora was so absorbed in Hour of Honour blasting North Korean Commie-Nazis (a fictional group based on ancient history) that she didn't notice Yeshua until he started playing with the pool table. She didn't turn her face from the screen despite hearing his words to her, partly because she wished he ignored her, and partly because she was too afraid to look at him in the eye. She didn't know whether he would become angry at her like he did last time, so she took a distant approach to him.

"I...I don't know how to play pool," she answered in a low voice, almost like a whisper. "I never got the chance to learn."

Yeshua finished chalking the first cue with ease and slipped it onto the table. He took the second one and began doing the same. His hands made good work of the chalk, rubbing it back and forth until satisfied.

"That's an arrestable offence, young lady." 

Elora continued playing, and as another Commie-Nazi's head exploded from the twin automatic shotguns her player character carried, she sighed.

"I'm sorry." That was all she knew to say, after years of doing that in her orphanage, and afterwards when she screwed up during her basic training.

The chalk ran up and down the tip of the cue with ease. He rested his now blue-tinted fingertips on the side of the pool cable. 

From nowhere, a pool cue was thrown across the room, knocking the controller out of Elora's hand.

"Aaaahh!" Elora screamed when the controler flew out of her hands by a pool cue only inches away from hitting her head. She trembled in shock as she looked over at Yeshua.

"I...I..." She didn't know what to say, so terrified of the sudden action that seemed like an attack on her. "P-Please don't hurt me..."

The loud clanging sound of the wood and plastic colliding had definitely made the young girl jump, Yeshua remarked. He had her attention, at least. Seeing her like this had now made him almost regret his decision, however much he tried to knock the feeling out of his head. 

"Pick the cue up. I don't want any Pilot to try and save the world without knowing how to play pool." 

"Umm, okay..." Elora said as she carefully rose from her seat and picked it up while avoiding sudden moves, like a bank clerk during a holdup. She went beside the pool table, the cue shaking in her hands, and made a weak thrust that barely moved the pool ball.
"Ughh..."

Yeshua saw the pathetic attempt at a shot and let out a sound that could only be recognised as "contempt but somewhat amused". 

"I don't know why you're afraid of me. I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to." He admitted, sounding oddly too apathetic. He reached for the red ball and collected the rest of the spheres. His hand snuck underneath the table and came up with a triangular item, hollowed out in the centre. Arranging all of the balls inside of the tray. With the black ball firmly in the centre, he removed the tool and put it on the nearest chair. The white ball found itself removed from the rest, directly in front of the triangular arrangement. 

"Pool is about pocketing the balls. It's like chess, but for gentlemen -- gentlepeople." Yeshua suddenly cut himself off, not making eye contact and constantly keeping his hands busy. "I am going to try to pocket all of the red balls in any of the holes, while you --" he breathed and spoke slower now, "will pocket the yellow balls. Once either of us have . . ." Yeshua sighed, losing his train of thought. He rested his left arm on the pool cue, which was also balancing on his knee, underneath the table.
"When any of us remove an entire set, we pocket the black ball and win. Do you understand?"

Elora stayed silent when Yeshua talked, and actively avoided eye contact with him. She wasn't sure how to take his claim of not going to hurt her, as he almost did when he threw that pool cue at her. It was like the boy didn't understand what he was doing, and that terrified her the most. Who knows if he started actively hurting her and claimed that he wasn't doing anything? She didn't know if she had the courage to tell any of the adults or even Lora if that were to happen, so she would have to endure it, like she did back in the orphanage.

Then Yeshua suddenly asked him if she understood, and Elora nodded; she didn't get everything that he said, but she picked up on the very basics, at least.

"Do you...hate me?" She suddenly asked, and covered her mouth in reaction. It just came out of her mouth, like a butterfly that was floating in her stomach, wanting to be free. She immediately regretted it, but she couldn't take it back, and now had to live with the consequences.

The boy maneuvered around the edges of the table, his hair covering his eyes. He pulled the cue over the edges of the table and onto his left hand, sliding it back and forth on the rift between his thumb and forefinger. The cue made very slight and small contact with the white ball before he slid it back again. The repetitive motion sent him into a trance. His throat was caught for a second before he spoke. He desperately needed a drink. The door was so close and so welcoming, where he could sit in the quiet and think about the future. Who was he to want to run away?  

"What would make you think that?"

To Elora's surprise, Yeshua stayed calm, and didn't blow up like he did last time. She now had a chance of really getting answers from him, and as scared as she was, she had to act then if she wanted them. Her feet wavered a bit as she held her arms to her chest.

"Well...I know how you think of me as someone who doesn't deserve to be a pilot, and the way you talked about it...I think you hate me...for being weak, and a burden to the others..."

The skin between his thumb and forefinger was growing hot now. His shoes began clicking together again.

"Do you not think that is the case?" 

"Yes...I am weak...I quit during the mock battle, too...I understand why you would hate me...I never had many friends...and the few that I did have bullied me in the orphanage...I guess they weren't real friends if they did that, but I was scared of losing them, so I never said anything...I'm pathetic."

The white ball sat still as the cue lined up the shot. His left hand was on fire. He could barely line up the shot. He tried again.

"Are you the object of your own hate?"

Elora was quiet for a moment before she responded: "Sometimes, I look at the mirror, and...I don't see myself, but someone who I want to change...someone I want to not be afraid anymore. But she never listens to me...she couldn't...I hate that person, yet I can't bring myself to express that hate...I'm not a person like that." She looked away.

"I try to be stronger, I truly do. It's not easy, and often I fall on my step...but I think it's possible."

Yeshua wished that she hadn't brought up this topic. The road was paved with eggshells and stalacmites. Elora was giving her entire life here now, the way she looked at herself and the way she felt. She was being honest with him, or at least she was very good at lying. This innocent, young girl was talking to him, but he could not figure out for the life of him what she wanted. 
Yet, he had wanted her to play pool. What did he want from her?

"Try not to drown in all those tears."

The white ball was launched by the cue. It shot into the triangle. A loud crack resonated through the lounge like thunder. 

"Yeah..." Elora quietly answered, and watched as Yeshua made a move on the pool table, sending most of the balls in the corner-holes.

"You're good at this," she neutrally observed. If Yeshua was willing to teach her more about the table game, maybe she could one day send those balls under the table. 

The balls had settled upon the green turf, like houses on a hill. It was calm once again.

"You could be good, too." Yeshua spoke, with a more clear voice, shuffling his feet to directly opposite Elora. He analysed the balls and allowed his cue to rest upon the curb of the table. The chalk found its way into his hand. "The key ingredient to perfection is perseverance."

Another nod came from the shy girl as it was her turn. She aimed with the pool cue with her tongue out. She seriously concentrated on the shot, and exerted as she thrusted.

The ball went faster this time, and actually hit another one this time. An improvement, if a small one.

"I'll never give up, no matter how hard the journey is..." Elora said, mostly to herself.

Yeshua analysed her form. In fact, he realised, a monkey could have analysed her form. She was quite literally grabbing the end of the cue with a fist and shoving it forward with as much precision as a blind musketman. It was mildly amusing that she was a lot better at shooting virtual people than playing such an old and popular game.

"Your form's off." Yeshua suggested, bending down and allowing the cue to graft between his thumb and forefinger in the more popular technique. His head hovered above his left elbow with his hair dangling just above his eyes.
"Look at my hands. This is the way you hit the ball." 

He pressed the cue forward, hitting the dead-centre of a red ball. It rolled into its hole with a satisfying plonk, like a slot machine at a casino. A game was easier to teach than a fight, but Yeshua was terrible at games. Escapism only came through books. He doubted the effectiveness of books at talking to Elora. 

He was talking to her, now. She didn't seemed to actively despise him and hate him. While he wasn't a psychic, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that she was enjoying this. No friend before her had given him this pleasure.

"Elora, are you my . . . ?"

But she was desperate. He was taking advantage of her, in her state of weakness. What was he trying to accomplish? He was leading humanity. He had forgotten this important fact. He was lost and primal, just as he feared. The path to victory could not be built upon the shackles of relationships. Before he had realised what he was thinking, a loud snap echoed through the room. 

His cue laid on the floor, snapped in two. His hand was bleeding. 

Elora was listening to Yeshua's instructions, and mimicked his actions with the pool cue, when suddenly she saw him break it with his bare hands. There were splinters lodged into his wounds that bled, and Elora screamed.

"Y-You're bleeding! We gotta-" 

"I can deal with it, Jesus Christ."

Yeshua clasped his left hand from the right, shielding it from the world. Protecting the wound, he ran away.

He had no idea where the med-bay was.
Metal corridors designed to look as unappealing as possible surrounded him and trapped him. The maze of metallic panels jutting out in hexagonal shapes, air conditioning vents sealed behind grates between them and the hollow floor that crumbled with every step only added to how lost he felt. The air was fake and stuffy.

When he had eventually realised he had no idea where to go, he slumped on the wall, trying to desperately remove the splinters in his hand. They stung like a bullet ant underneath his skin, like a bonesaw cutting through his fingers. He spat on his hand twice when no one was looking. Any people that were still walking through the corridors simply passed by, not caring.

Elora stood there for a moment, her legs shaking like a house of cards in a stormy weather. She saw somene bleed before her again, and was terrififed that Yeshua would meet the same fate that Ryan did. As if some kind of survival instinct kicked in, she ran after Yeshua in a panicy state. He didn't manage to get far, and leaned against the wall, smearing it red with his hands. Elora held her mouth as she reined in her urge to spit out her lunch, and knelt beside him.

"Y-Yeshua, hey, we need to get you to the med-bay now...there's a map of the place in our devices, we can use it to get there...Yeshua! Please, say something!" She tried to lift him up, but he wouldn't budge. She started crying as she looked at him bleeding on the floor.

Yeshua was not delighted at this turn of events. The bleeding was stopping now, but his hands were still smeared with blood. He spied to his left and right CCTV cameras, realising that they were all watching. It had been a disaster to allow himself to try and talk to someone. He knew the consequences. She didn't. 

"Can you stop crying for a minute? You're not the one bleeding. By Isaiah's prophecy, can you stop being so weak?" He fidgeted for a moment, the splinters digging deeper into his hand. 

"Damn it!" His muffled mouth cried, before his legs pulled himself upwards. He had no injury to his lower body, and this particular accident wasn't serious at all. He began to lick his hand like a big cat. Keeping one of his limbs in the air, his right hand dug into his pocket for his omni-use device. It was absent. He had left it in the Mess Hall. A fantastic stroke of luck to get away from a crying girl. 

"I must've left it in the Mess Hall. Go and cry somewhere else, please. I don't want to deal with two catastrophies of human beings." Yeshua muttered bitterly.

"But I-" Elora hesitated. However, as Yeshua continued to tell her off, she couldn't help but leave, despite wanting to take him to the med-bay. She first stepped a couple of times backwards from him, and then ran away, tears dropping to the floor like sparkling stars. No matter how much she tried, meetings with Yeshua always had to end in a tragedy. Maybe her life was just a single, convoluted play, with occasional happy moments but ultimately leading to sorrow and grief.

Strolling into the Mess Hall, he didn't feel guilt or pain run through him. He only felt happiness, leaving the shackles of contact. He hadn't the need to deal with crying girls, brutish boys or violent men, when the adrenaline of real pain kicked in. This is what dying felt like and it made him feel alive. He was more alive than anyone else could tell him or force him to be, as the blood continued to leave a trail behind him. 

He was going to save the galaxy. He wanted to see Death in his own eyes, and if he could kill it, finally be alive.
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