The Justiceers - Part Three: Chapter Eleven
the next chapter in my forthcoming novel
The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
Apologies for the excessive soundtracking on this one. Lots of vibes here. Just ignore me if you don’t care.
3.11
Each gasp of breath was precious, the process becoming a meditation in itself — every micro-second she could get, right up until re-submergence, those precious moments they’d buy her — Miriam was not enjoying this.
They’d figured her out.
At least, that she was beyond them and they’d need to constantly fuck with her and bring her down to their level.
Fariah’s goons had been repetitively bathing Miriam, quite forcefully, hands so tight around the collar of her shawl. They’d torn out her braids, tied up her limbs, and taken every opportunity in making it far worse than it had any right to be.
It wasn’t the best time of her life.
“Cunts!”
Miriam had wasted some breath, feeling it worth the cost in the moment, though she was now regretting that decision as her inhalation was cut short by another plunge into ice-cold dirt water.
She’d always liked a fair bit of minerals in her drinking water; not these kinds.
This hadn’t been the plan at all. She’d no hope of projecting her visage like this, let alone reaching Arthur with her heart, so caught in this ongoing trauma which made it impossible.
Miriam hoped he wasn’t feeling it all.
She knew he’d be coming — heart was still speaking to her.
“I know this is hard to imagine,” one of them had whispered into her ear as he’d pulled her up for another gulp of oxygen.
“But we’re loving this even more than you’re hating it.”
He’d not let her up for a long time on the next one.
“What — the — fuck.”
Arthur changed his mind after that staircase; this was the one. The Beast was not going back up ‘that motherfucker’. They’d have to find another way out. Where he’d found himself then, drawing the exclamation from the man, was before something most perplexing.
He'd fallen upon a cavernous chamber, adorned with shadows cast by Grammaton’s heart-light, a widest-set beam emerging from a cylindrical trench, and there was the strangest humming he’d ever heard.
It was not the time he’d solve this riddle.
Miriam needed him, he’d have to let gut think that one over a while, some things could wait — Arthur was learning to trust that — heart needed tending.
A borehole of enormity and vicious capability beyond that which had existed within Arthur’s imagination previously, was the path he’d been seeking, finding access through a passage which had led from that cathedral of light.
The ground here was littered in rubble, this place had been crumbling. Everything felt wrong, condensed. Not only time, but Arthur’s senses, it was all scrambled. He couldn’t tell up from down anymore.
He just knew he had to get to her, there was nothing else that made sense in his heart right now.
The way he was moving scared him, it wasn’t a velocity he’d choose, The Beast was struggling with this. That trek downward had taken a lot out of her, and there wasn’t much left in her tank.
Arthur had been gendering inanimate objects since long before Miriam — only, all female — she’d actually picked up the habit from him long ago.
Regardless, this was proving a frightening trek into the dark. So much had come up in this time in Yemi, on Grammaton, with Miriam — from her writings.
He’d not known what to do with all, bottling things up, letting it twist his guts.
If he’d just had more time to decide, to choose, Arthur knew he would have done the right thing eventually. He wouldn’t let it end this way.
Why did this always have to happen? What was wrong with this place? Why couldn’t people just be honorable?
Arthur hated this world. Nothing less could explain the feeling running through his body. It was volcanic — eruptive — he’d need to let it out on someone.
He thought he’d known exactly who it would be.
Miriam played half dead when he’d finally laid her on the ground, pretending herself spent, pleading words of truce she meant to betray.
Fool; he’d listened.
She was laying down now, ‘thank the fucking lord’. A chance to recover here was highly necessary, but she’d not have much time. She’d not the capacity to make a plan, feeling would lead her forward, and it told that something was coming.
It was big; really big. Not the kind of thing you’d want to be around for.
Something about the sensation was awfully familiar.
Insight flowing back in, finding some humor to save her spirit, she’d remarked to herself then, ‘at least these goddamn mother fucking retards are going to die’, and Miriam chuckled at the thought.
The world and time she’d been born into had dug most deeply into Miriam Halafax, leaving stains which arose at times of stress; some things just never left. She’d felt her ever-increasing sense of kinship with Gary surge to great heights when he’d mentioned an era on his planet called ‘the 90’s’, after hearing an outburst she’d thought private. She really loved that guy, full of the strangest facts.
“Fuck this fucking place,” Miriam thought aloud.
Her visage opened the cell door, a petty contraption she’d felt like she could kick down if she’d been more prone to moving after the torture endured. Miriam had almost thought to try.
“Get up, Bitch,” Miriam’s soul had her visage say.
“Alright, alright.”
That had been all the motivation Miriam had needed in the moment.
“I need some fucking water!”
She’d shouted that to the universe itself, ever the tendency for losing her ability to dam the streams of consciousness when under great pressure — that got her into trouble sometimes — and it had definitely not been her kind of dirt water they’d been drowning her in.
Her visage had been kind but stern when she’d spoken from some well-known soul beyond.
“Get your shit together, Miriam.”
Never had Arthur seen a ‘mother-fucking door’ like the one behind him.
It was a vault; from another time, another world.
He’d not thought much of it as he’d used The Beast to crack it open, not understanding what Miriam had known would be looming in the darkness of his wake.
Now, there was only a need within him to find her, and fix things.
Yet Arthur could feel himself wishing Miriam would just tell him how, her guidance having gotten him this far, knowing his Scribe could show him the way. He’d wished it didn’t have to be like that, and he could hear things clearly from his gut alone, but that’s not how things worked for Arthur.
He needed Miriam, she kept him in touch with his heart.
That’s also why he’d rushed straight through, and didn’t think to close that ‘mother-fucking door’ behind him without listening to what his gut had surely been screaming.
They had been coming, and it wasn’t going to go well.
Arthur wouldn’t have left it open if he’d known how things would be. That was not a demon he’d want to face like he would, especially when there was so much at stake in his heart.
That door would birth a chaos, bringing pain to people he’d never mean to hurt worse. Blood, death, and terror would come to being because of that opening. The choice, or lack thereof, was the harbinger of change he’d not intend. Arthur Katrinus didn’t consciously end people who’d chance at redemption, even if they were attached to Fariah Montera.
Still, there must have been some reason Miriam never mentioned to close it.
“Whoopsie,” was what she’d said as she slipped the rusted blade between that man’s shoulder blades, coincidentally, finding this some mortal cry beyond those of Miriam’s last words.
There’d been lots of screaming then, plenty of blood, such needless pleading — Miriam didn’t give a shit, not even half of one — this had been the guy.
It hadn’t been an action of thought, and certainly not of heart — she’d come to regret it later, feeling this not quite worth the burden undertaken by her spirit, to be bound forever in such intimate violence to a man she’d rather not be — but right then, she was having a hell of a time with it.
That really hadn’t been fun, what they’d done to her, and when this ‘cunt-rag’ said those things into her ear, she’d known it would come back on him this way.
She’d seen this, felt it, even salivated for it.
Meant to be in some way, she’d figured, since it had come out of her with such little effort. It would be a lesson to learn if nothing else, an example of how hate breeds in-kind, and one Miriam would use to grow much.
It also rid this world of a vermin, so, no big loss — she’d take the soul-ding on that one.
More fuel upon the alchemical fire ever burning in her heart, forging the goddess within through strangest means, she’d attempt to lend her force of strength from the moment to her lifetime upon Omirion.
She’d hope this will for brutal action so found, would reach Gwevera there; herself, in that fight which she’d wished nothing more than to avoid and survive. Perhaps she could use it.
In the aftermath, once he’d stopped breathing, Miriam felt the realization dawning that she’d gone too far here, and it wasn’t going to feel nice. She’d found wisdom to pray for the man. Getting her knees onto the stone beneath her, allowing her fingers to touch Grammaton and call upon its spirit, feeling it take so much of the hurt she’d just born into herself immediately.
With big momma Grammaton’s help, Miriam sent light to the soul of this man she’d just ended, despite her misgivings; thinking of Icaro.
She’d cried there, not necessarily knowing she deserved it in the moment, yet feeling distinctively forgiven by that man’s spirit.
Grammaton had spoken of something in the silence which followed, knowing herself connected to the goddess who could hear her voice, whispering a hope; begging for help.
Miriam would listen.
There was just something wrong about this place.
Arthur’s gut was speaking straight through his anxieties about getting to Miriam, telling of the reason behind all this; some divine calling they’d been sent to execute beyond their means of understanding.
All he knew was it had to do with Grammaton. It felt like she was talking to him. He’d never felt anything like it before, as if something he was innately connected with had grounded him into her energy.
He’d find his Miriam in the place his gut was seeking.
The tunnel was enormous, Arthur couldn’t think of what the need would’ve been for such passage.
What in the hell had they been doing here? Why did it feel like Grammaton was calling him? What the actual fuck?
Arthur’s transition to godhood was moving into more esoteric realms of emotional and spiritual connection than he felt comfortable with; it was fucking with him.
He was much more comfortable being a badass who could see the future, than he was with having voices and healing energies reach his body beyond knowing, finding trust in spirit was something he’d still need to work on.
Arthur always felt the truth in Miriam’s channelings about spirit’s benevolent neutrality, the way this universe was ultimately built by and for love despite the horror, yet the brutality of it all still left a taint on his view. It wasn’t okay, all these manifestations of fear and hatred, and he knew it.
His gut told it plainly that we deserved better as a whole; that this universe should do better.
Arthur Katrinus was absolutely right.
He’d just not yet realized the power within him to change it, that the future of this entire universe would be healed and transformed towards divine harmony by his beautiful ass; he had no idea at all.
“This is going to look so good! You’re gonna love it.”
Miriam sneered as she smeared hair die into Fariah’s scalp, letting it burn, watching them cry. The bitch changed hair colors so often, from all the photo’s she’d seen, it was almost like they thought it would make them into less of a disappointment to themselves.
Both of Miriam’s visages were phased into the physical and holding Fariah‘s head over the kitchen sink in her private quarters.
This wasn’t what Grammaton had asked her to do — this one was for her — to return some of what this woman had put into her go, to give it right back. Fariah could hold this pain she’d created within Miriam, it was her turn to feel it.
Laurentine had taken part in this all of this apprehensively.
Things would get dark for Miriam sometimes, feeling out of control when Arthur wasn’t near and she was surrounded by terrible people, it could bring the very worst out of her.
After murdering that man so lost from his soul, Miriam knew she’d not kill Fariah with her hands; she wouldn’t want that stain.
Miriam just figured she’d let Fariah do it herself.
Perhaps that’s why she’d gone into such detail about all she knew they’d done, making sure they were fully cognizant of the fact she’d not been fooled for one second, and they’d not be forgiven.
Grammaton was groaning, those building tectonic rumblings from so far below. They’d been growing quite noticeably louder in this time spent within her crust.
There was something else though, a shadow, there’d not be much time left and Arthur was fully aware of it.
His gut led him to this room, face to face with that machine, feeling the need to see what was behind the door which had been stuck open by some fault in its machinery.
Arthur took his time here, but something in him knew the truth already; this had to be destroyed.
Miriam burst in, seeing her Arthur and sprinting straight for him, there wasn’t time for the embrace they’d both wanted. It had been enough for her to just place her hand on his shoulders while he’d thought, praying for healing energies to pour through, back in the spot she was supposed to be.
Together, energies bound, souls singing — they’d known it, truth found so easily — the people of Grammaton had done great wrong to their planet, and she was angry.
They’d queued by the passage so ‘widened’ for The Beast’s entry, Miriam having taken a few steps out in advance. Arthur was going to twist that machines guts with its effector fields, and he knew they’d need to run from this, from what taking this shot would bring, knowing the consequences would be severe in some intuitive way beyond his ability to define.
Miriam hadn’t told him what it was though.
Plowing through the debris in constant creation from the crumbling ceiling, seeking a way through the fluttering darkness of the base’s clearly failing electrical generator, The Beast was in that fullest form.
Arthur too, as he stormed in the direction Miriam had pointed. He’d not even known where they were going anymore, but he trusted his girl.
Feeling them over his shoulder while she’d watched with widest eyes, noticing that starry-twinkle, he’d known before she’d even said it.
“Cryptoids, baby!”
Arthur managed then to go even faster.
Miriam spun around on the lap of her prince, ever growing connection to the future speaking of such joys to come; they’d be more than fine, so much more.
Such divine timing had her rotation to look forward been, birthing that opportunity it wrought. Seeing Fariah emerge from her quarters through the flickering of this base’s imminent demise, staring at the truth of what she’d brought upon this place bearing down, not even trying to run.
Miriam winked as they blew past her.
I hope she saw.
The last ship Miriam hadn’t sabotaged was locked out, and they’d found a handful of Fariah’s goon’s trying to figure their way in.
Arthur had just thrown them aside with The Beast’s effector fields.
It was magnificent.
He’d taken me there onto the ship, and we’d gotten right the hell out of that place, I felt so happy to be getting free of it all. The energy had been really bad deal for my heart.
I hadn’t told him; I never really needed anything but a ride home.
I’d pretended I didn’t know it was coming, how he’d been working up to it for the last half cycle now, that it wasn’t everything I’d thought about for every second of that time; this moment.
Arthur came up to me then, walking, so fucking gorgeous.
I could tell he still didn’t know what he was going to say, but I felt his heart so brightly, and I’d already known what he meant.
Miriam started crying really hard then.
Arthur had told her later, it might have been the saddest and happiest thing he’d ever seen at the same time; and that he’d never witness anything more beautiful or feel anything more healing in his life.
He still hadn’t found those kinds of words for me then, and was crying himself before he’d gotten anything out.
All he’d said was this.
“I love you, Miriam — and I have since the first day I met you.”
I believe she cried quite a bit harder then.
Miriam was also the happiest she would ever feel in her whole life amongst The Periphery, in fact, never would her or any other soul’s love burn brighter than this. It had taken all the hurt of her life to make it possible — and it was worth it, always worth it.
I think what I’d said in response was some combination of ‘oh’, ‘no’, and a moan. In fact, I’m quite sure that’s what it was.
I had never felt such coursing and healing energy in my body. I didn’t know how badly I’d always needed to hear that from him.
Miriam stopped crying then, and told him the truth she’d been holding inside as long as he’d been stowing that.
“I know.”
His lips on mine took me back to that dream I had when I was kid, where we were just swimming together. I would never know the sorrow I’d so long stowed from our time apart again. In fact, I’d never be afraid of another thing for the rest of my life.
Arthur Katrinus kissed the goddess right into Miriam Halafax in that moment, and the god into himself.
