The Justiceers - Part Three: Chapter Nine
the next chapter in my forthcoming novel
The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
3.9
Fariah Montera thought herself quite a hero; notably awful at seeing her reflection in the mirror.
She’d made herself to be the victim her whole life.
Reality did persist regarding the circumstances and family she was born to, how they’d warped her way of manipulating the world, and taught her to feel worthless inside; Grammaton had not been kind to Fariah.
Still, she’d more opportunities and blessings bestowed upon her than most, continuing to find ways to play false martyr throughout. Turning the injustices which saw her people so unfairly denigrated, seen to be a threat in their nature by ignorant portions of society, into a shield for her brutality inflicted upon others. Casting those who saw her plainly as the offenders; made into perpetrators of prejudice within her twisted mind.
Fariah would cast outward her reflection of self-judgment callously.
Long ago, she’d focused her on targets which were actually deserving. Nowadays, it was just whoever happened to be in front of her at any given moment.
Reflections of honesty weren’t something Fariah surrounded herself with.
The company she’d formed here in this rebellion was one of illusions. Blindness to her ways had been required by Fariah of her people. Those speaking truth she’d not wish to hear would be punished. She’d see her will enacted — making herself into that victim she’d seen in her own reflection, even with people who’d stand in earnest support of her efforts — there was only one way around here; Fariah’s way.
Banished, would be those who stood in descent, most often believing themselves wrong in the end by how wrapped around her finger they’d been, only to be shunted into the darkness by the shame of her lies, by those she’d swayed.
Fariah could ‘eat a dick.’
At least, that’s how Miriam put it as she’d been hauled into their subterranean hanger after her last trip through Learo ended in such frightening fashion; all power cut the moment she’d broken free of the light-side, forced to land on Grammaton’s rocky floor at highest speeds, nearly carried by momentum into a the silver glow of its ever expanding canyons.
Fariah’s people had taken her there, leaving the Infinity on the edge of that cliff, Miriam screaming at the top of her lungs to at least bring it with them. The goons hadn’t listened. They’d thrown a silencing shroud over her head, loaded her into a speedship, and brought her to wherever she was now.
She’d no idea how they’d done any of it.
Miriam was re-projecting her visage constantly as they’d traveled, attempting to track the flight, Arthur would need to know where they’d taken her.
Things were happening within Miriam, her goddess morphing in yet unknown ways, feelings coming out of more nuance than before. What she was finding here felt strange — apart from the potential damage to her baby; that beautiful speedship — there was excitement in her for this.
Fariah was no threat to her; they were a joke.
Still, she would need her Arthur’s support. Though she’d likely be able to take this bitch down herself, it would be harrowing with all she was alone; dangerous.
Her visage was waking him now as Miriam was perp-walked down a tunnel carved into the earth, listening to the gloating boasts of her captures, not a single ounce of fear within.
Spirit was with her here in full, and they were speaking. This was going to be fun. If that was true, Miriam knew her baby would be okay, because ‘it wouldn’t be fun otherwise’.
That was how she’d always known Arthur would come back too.
This was meant to be in some way, her being taken by these fools, and it would find her and Arthur in a better place to see this company put to rest. Another key for what was coming would be found here; within the resolution of this conflict between Fariah and her lies.
“I see you’re eating pretty well down here.”
Miriam spoke it through her most challenging liar’s smile. The insult went right over Fariah’s head, and she’d waited for it — oh, yup; there it was — recognition.
This bitch deserved what was coming to her, nothing was truer than that, hiding in such complete and utter delusion. She didn’t see what she’d become.
Fariah was a villain, and a coward.
Their righteous crusade against all whom they perceived oppressing them had left out a crucial ingredient, a ‘fucking lick’ of self-honesty, and they saw themself as what Arthur and Miriam rightfully were. You could even believe how one might fall for it with the practice Fariah had so clearly put into her deceit, how twisted she’d everyone in this place, the surface she presented with such practiced and false humility.
Mariam didn’t buy it for a second; she knew ‘cunts like this’.
Her visage was tearing through the woman’s personal files at this very moment — there was a lot of dirt.
With the way she’d portrayed entitlement to Miriam’s respect, you might think she’d deserved it in some slightest way, and that would be a mistake. Disgusting was the truth of what Farah had been capable of; despicable.
She’d fired those shots of artillery upon OGA headquarters. There was a vendetta this woman had with the world, in some cases quite rightfully — she’d not been wrong on that one.
Yet the way she was exploiting people now, turning on those around her with no one left to fight by justified means, picking helpless and innocent little targets to take out her rage upon. It was no surprise to Miriam that she found herself and Arthur such a threat.
She knew they’d see right through her.
Her plans were not well-thought, she’d not the will or intelligence to prepare, the castle of sand she’d built around her was of no support. She was a blind and naive woman of lesser means than most, who’d found great luck by those she’d manipulated into her life, who’s graces she’d never deserved in the slightest.
Fariah was not prepared for what she’d come up against here; she’d not see it coming.
Miriam loved that part.
Arthur was asleep in the bunk he’d set up in The Shop.
He’d been crashing here lately, trying to hide it from Miriam, something in him afraid to tell her the truth. He’d not understood the why, there was just a worry he’d disappoint her somehow.
Something was wrong out there, and he could feel it. Arthur had woken dripping in sweat.
It wasn’t a thought, coming all at once from his gut, and he’d gotten to know this feeling very well recently; Miriam was in trouble.
Swinging his legs out of bed he’d hobbled across the room. They were still weak but coming back to life like he’d thought.
This was what he’d been so worried to tell Miriam about.
He didn’t even know why — it was good news.
It just changed things, it would be different, and he’d wanted to hold onto the way things had been for so long, this was a most cozy time to have been looked after. To now stand on his own, he’d found himself fearing the change itself, unknowing what it would look like for them; how things would work.
Taking a big drink from the fountain at the workbench, he’d felt her then.
Miriam was glowing brightly in his heart.
He didn’t need to be told, Arthur just turned around and found Miriam’s visage before him. She’d not even reacted about his standing; gut said she’d known.
Whatever was happening, Miriam wasn’t worried at all about her own safety; he could see that in her expression. It had flooded Arthur with a sense of relief until he’d seen the hurt in her eyes, the anger gripping her jaw, the way Miriam’s energy felt inside his chest. Something worthy of their attention had clearly been found.
“I need your help now, Arthur,” Miriam told him.
“A bitch is in need of a reckoning”
