Ravens of Eternity

227 The Patriarch Falls, Pt The very moment that Callie had unleashed all of her anger and frustration and pain, Freya poured in what little she had left through her own body. Not that she needed much. All she wanted was a touch of speed...

She leapt sideways, drew both her handcannons, and pointed them squarely at Father.

Time slowed around her as she squeezed both triggers and fired her devastating weapons. Their muzzle blast shone brightly as the huge slugs spun their way out, and slammed right into his back.

Freya was tossed back nearly a dozen meters from the force of the recoil. She bounced around and rolled a bit before she ended up as a heap on the floor.

“Ow,” she groaned.

Her bullets struck Father at the exact same time as Callie’s hammer struck his chest. Because of his highly armored skin, they didn’t break through. Instead, they slammed into him with astounding kinetic energy.

The two forces smashed into each other, but with Father’s upper body caught in the middle. There was a wet, sickening CRACK as his chest caved in. And at the same time, many of his ribs snapped into pieces.

Blood burst out of Father’s mouths, ears, nose, and even through his tear ducts. His life was literally squeezed out of him, with excruciating pain. And for the first time in his life, he felt completely powerless.

Powerless against rage. Against fate.

.....

It occurred to him, right then and there, that this was likely the end for him. If he wanted to survive, all he needed to do was endure. Just like he had done all his life.

Father took a step back with shaky legs and peered down at his sunken chest. He felt shards of his own hardened bone jab further into his heart with every beat it made. He fell to his knees helplessly, but still fought to live.

Although the pain coursed through him in endless waves, he forced his body to stitch itself back together as fast as it could.

Not that he got very far. Callie immediately smashed him across his face with her hammer, with every ounce of her fury behind her strike. Father’s jaw cracked into painful fragments as his face was slammed down to the marble floor.

The floor itself crumbled and cratered around him on impact, and took much of the impact. Even then, many more of his bones snapped and broke from the sheer power of Callie’s strike.

But Callie was far from done, and her anger was far from satiated. She kicked his shoulder and rolled him onto his back, then reared her hammer high above her head once again. Both of her eyes were filled to the brim with unbridled contempt.

Then she brought her hammer down with all the force she could muster, right down on his groin. There was another excruciating CRACK as his pelvis was utterly pulverized. There was also a sickening, wet meaty sound as his crotch was minced from the blow.

Father screamed in pain as blood gurgled out of his mouth. He immediately clutched at his crotch with his hands, protectively.

“Please Callie,” he said weakly, “please stop.”

Callie’s eye twitched at his words, and any anger that was in danger of abating instead rose higher.

“Stop, Father?” she replied, malice deep in her tone. “You mean, like the same way you stopped?”

She raised her hammer again, but this time drove it onto his face. Another wet crunching noise echoed through the room as Father’s face was mashed into something unrecognizable.

A soft gurgling sound emanated from within it.

“You should be more grateful, Father,” Callie screamed. “For all the ‘love’ I’m about to shower you with. But don’t worry – you’ll soon forget it all happened in the first place.”

Callie then slammed him repeatedly with her hammer, with each strike an incredibly vicious blow. She crushed his chest and groin and face, over and over and over. Each time, she pushed everything she had into those blows.

She slammed down on him with a great fury and relentless energy.

All Father could do was whine and gurgle and cry and plead, but it was all futile. There was no stopping Callie, or her rage, or her vengeance.

The floor shook and the marble crumbled further with every hit. And Father’s body became more and more unrecognizable as he was pressed further down into the cratered marble.

Every ounce of her fury was in each of her strikes. Even as it began to fade.

Her strikes slowed and her power ebbed, but not once did she stop hitting him. And it didn’t take long for her energy to completely leave her. The last time she swung, her hammer had little energy in it. All she did was strike at Father with a weak, wet splat.

By the end, her body was hunched over as she heaved air in and out of her lungs. She dragged her hammer back towards her, and attempted to swing it again, but barely had the strength to lift it up.

Instead, she collapsed onto her knees, her breathing ragged and incredibly heavy.

She stared at Father, whose body was reduced to minced meat and shattered shards of bone. His arms and legs twitched uncontrollably from the pain and physical trauma. Blood had pooled around him, but much slower than normal. It almost seemed like he was preventing his own blood from escaping his body.

Callie’s eyes could only widen in surprise as she watched the pile of meat put itself back together, very slowly. She watched as broken shards of bone snapped into place, and slowly fused themselves together. She watched as the torn muscle began to stitch itself together, and repaired any severed strands.

She grabbed her hammer yet again, but was so spent that she couldn’t even budge it, much less lift it.

Instead, she let it go and grabbed the Ra’ventrii blade which was lying next to her. Then she drug herself closer to Father’s regenerating body, ready to cut it into a million pieces. But before she could raise her blade, Freya stepped in front of her, and stood between her and her Father.

Freya leveled a Handcannon right at his heart, and squeezed the trigger.

Bits of bloody flesh flew up in every direction as her slug obliterated whatever was left of his chest. She then adjusted her aim very slightly, and blasted off his head as well. Bone and brain matter fanned out from his head, and splattered across the floor.

It was at that point that Father’s musculature shrinked back down, and his taut skin shriveled. More than that, his blood lost much of its brightness, and whatever prevented his blood from pooling quickly, stopped.

It began to spread out all around, and trickled down into the cracked and broken marble floor under him.

“This better not be a case of ‘not dead yet’,” muttered Freya.

Then she magnetically holstered her handcannon back onto her right thigh, and turned towards Callie. She expected to see relief, or even happiness. But instead, Callie’s face was etched with a mixture of all sorts of contradicting emotions.

Freya quickly knelt down beside her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Callie?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

The girl tried to speak, but could only choke on her own words. She found the simple act of expressing herself unbearable to do. Something inside her was tearing her apart. It was as though she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

It seemed to her that love and hate violently fought for space in her heart and mind.

Now that her anger had largely subsided, the programming that her Father had instilled in her began to take over again. And although it began to retake her, her buried memories still lingered.

And the memories of every painful, traumatic moment she experienced clashed against the conditioning her Father burned into her. They fought for control of her body, her mind, her soul.

The conflict pained her deeply, and caused her heart to shudder in her chest.

“What have I done?” she muttered. “Father’s dead... My hands... I killed him. I...”

“You did what you needed to do-” said Freya, but she was immediately interrupted when Callie pushed her off.

She then slammed a fist down on the floor, and cracked it.

“No!” Callie screamed. “I was supposed to protect him! Keep him alive! But... what he did... his hands, his mouth, his...”

Callie shuddered as all the different emotions spun through her like a storm. They battered at her, and shook her to her core. She didn’t know if she needed to cry or scream or laugh.

Then she realized just how much she had been broken, how she was purposefully broken. And by a person who supposedly loved her and held affection for her. The reality of it all bit her deeply, and did more damage to her than anything else she had suffered through.

“He took everything from me,” she continued. “I hate him! And yet... I love him. He used me inside and out! And I can’t help but admire him. I can’t help but want more... I can’t... This feels...”

Callie broke down and began to weep.

Worse, no matter where she looked into her memories, all she could see was her Father. He was everywhere in her mind.

Guiding her, comforting her, instructing her, controlling her, fucking her.

It was more than what Father had done to her. She saw her own actions, of her own callousness towards people. All those colonists that she helped mutilate...

She abhorred her actions, and yet also felt proud at the same time. Something deep inside Callie told her to feel pleasure at others’ pain, to feel grateful for the pain she received from Father.

It was something she could hardly bear.

Her memories spun and wove into each other, and turned into a confusing mix of emotions. She loved and hated everything he did to her, and she found herself wanting to excise herself of everything. To get rid of every memory and emotion, and simply start fresh.

No Father, no Prophets, just her, whoever she was, whatever was left.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she fought against herself, as she raged against her conditioning. But she knew deep down that it was a losing battle. There was no way she would be able to overcome it all.

It was reinforced over multiple versions of herself, and embedded deep inside.

She realized that there was only one way to stop the conflict, to end her self-hatred. To end the memories of Father.

Callie’s trembling hand gripped on the Ra’ventrii blade subconsciously, then she quickly brought its tip up to her chest, and pushed in. The tip pierced her chest and sunk in a few centimeters, but stopped before she could go any further.

Freya had reached out in alarm and grabbed her shaky hands, and physically stopped her from plunging her blade deeper. She was about to protest, but Callie quickly interrupted her.

“Please,” cried Callie, “please don’t stop me... I can’t... This is impossible...”

When Freya looked into Callie’s tortured eyes, she understood some measure of what the girl was going through. And with hesitation, let go.

Callie took the moment and pushed the blade further into her chest. The feeling of its cold metal as it slid through her heart was an odd comfort. And for a second time, Freya’s blade made her feel free. Truly free.

She felt her heart pump weaker and weaker as her life, her blood, ebbed away. At the same time, the warring memories subsided and fell away. Her furious emotions simply dispersed, and everything became quiet. All she felt now was peace, even as darkness began to overtake her.

With the last of her strength, she pushed the blade hilt deep into her chest, then smiled weakly at Freya.

“Thank you,” she said.

Then, Callie died.