Veritas stopped walking. “No, go on. Keep talking about the villains and monsters the heroes stop. Not like you’ll ever meet them.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice. “The heroes are out of control, you get that right? I’m not saying we’re all saints in here, but they kill dozens of innocent bystanders, a week. In this country alone! That’s not even considering all the shit that goes down with the Pareidoliac and Cold Snap, and Typhoid Marcy in Australia. Not to mention the conflicts and battles going on all over the world. The ‘heroes’,” she made more exaggerated air quotes, “Are a show put on to distract the American people from the coming shitstorm that’s gonna engulf the planet. Mark my words, the day’s coming when the good citizens realize that they’re living in a world that’s falling apart at the seams. Besides, most of the villains in here have never killed any innocents. I haven’t, but I know you can’t say the same. So if you think you’re so high and mighty, then think again!” Veritas ended her rant, breathing hard.
Our walk was finished in an odd silence. I felt satisfied and confused and guilty at the same time. I had assumed everyone in here was evil on some level, killers and psychos. But there was more. I had gotten Veritas’ facade to crack; seen who she really was underneath. At the same time, what she had said rung true. The bystander casualties from the heroes clashes were always something whispered about. Groups had tried to form to talk about this, or push for reform. Nothing ever came from them. The citizens never cared, never did anything to stop the violence. The heroes stopped the villains, that’s what was important.
Something inside me burned to tell her more about Milgram and explain, but I kept my mouth shut. Not really the time and place.
I felt sick to my stomach. I was killed in another battle, and nobody cared. I’m just another ignored number, pushed to the side and forgotten. Or I would have been, if I hadn’t resurrected. None of this makes any sense. “Why does no one care? There has to be a reason.” I softly asked Veritas.
“We’ve got some theories. One of the most popular is that the whole thing is a conspiracy, Lady Aegis works with the media and the government to spin a web of apathy over the people. Maybe they really just don’t care, they only want to watch the shiny men and women fight the good fight. The people don’t care if bystanders die because of the heroes, they just blame the villains. Nobody pushes for reform or change, not even any tightening of standards. Some heroes even kill villains, and still nobody says a word. Most of the people in here are truly dangerous, I’m pretty sure half are killers. That doesn’t mean we deserve to die. The only reason I’m in here was because they put a gun in my mouth and told me to blink once to go to jail.” Veritas glanced over at me. “Drugging us indefinitely would be expensive, and someone could rescue us. In here though? Nobody gets out and nobody comes to save the day. They can’t contain some people here through normal means, and killing doesn’t always work either. Frankly, it’s a miracle they got Fubar in here. No, they stick most people in here without a trial, without any representation.”
We turned a corner and I saw the border down the road. Veritas stopped me though. “Before you walk away, remember this. You seem like a nice guy, despite the killer thing. Probably just made a few mistakes. But did anyone give you a fair trial? Did anyone care what happened to you? Do you deserve to be here?”
I stepped away, and moved back to the border. No. No. And god help me, but no. I don’t deserve to be here. Mom didn’t deserve what happened to her either. At that moment, my hatred for Milgram, and whoever attacked her, was acidic. You’re right, you don’t. But we do.
I ignored Milgram for now, and crossed back into the Zone. Before Ricky could say anything, I spoke. “Fly me home, man. I need some time to think.”
He nodded understandingly, and we flew up into the air. I closed my eyes and felt my anger at the world. The sheer lack of justice all boggled my mind. I was even guilty, I had forgotten my purpose in here. To escape. To find the Black Mass that framed me. Revenge.
Ricky placed me on my lawn, and I walked inside. “Why are you here? Why couldn’t you just not exist?” I moaned, needing to express my emotions out loud. Excuse me? I’ve been doing what you couldn’t. Yeah, I might have lost control once in a while, but I’ve killed every threat to us! I was strong when you were weak, and when I found the Rush of death and combat, I wanted more. Maybe I pursued it at the wrong time and place, but I am not going to apologize for being myself. I was a fucking baby who wanted to play around, and enjoy what I discovered was fun. You would’ve done the same in my position.
I grabbed a vase off a small end table and hurled it at the window with all my strength. “YOU’RE WRONG!” I shouted. The destruction felt good, so I threw the end table too. Oh really, I’m wrong. If you’re so perfect, then why the fuck haven’t you shown any wish that what happened at the convenience store hadn’t? I froze, mid swing with a chair at the television.
“What-what do you mean?” I stuttered, dropping the chair. My rage and bile had evaporated. Don’t play ignorant, Alden. You never said, thought, nor in any way wished that the bullet that brought me into the world hadn’t. You have never ONCE expressed any form of regret for getting another chance at life. Not one single fucking time. Deep down, you’re happy I came and you survived.
I dropped down onto my knees and grabbed the threadbare carpet. Oh God no, he can’t be right. I thought to myself. Deep inside me, I knew I was lying. I was happy I wasn’t dead, so very happy to live. I masked this by blaming myself for Milgram, but that wasn’t my fault. I should’ve done… I thought hard. Something different! Tried to explain myself, rather than escaping. Done anything else, fought for forgiveness or anything! I was crying now, and didn’t bother to wipe the tears away. But no, behind all that hatred for Milgram, I was still happy I wasn’t dead. I rolled over on my back and sniffed hard. And even now, I’m still not regretful I’m alive. God help me, but I don’t wanna die. I layed there and cried for a while, wallowing in my guilt and shame.
Milgram, I’m sorry. You’re right. I still didn’t trust him, but ordering and hating Milgram hadn’t helped me. It had only made things worse. If I ever wanted to make some kind of amends for all of this, I needed to try a new tactic with Milgram. If I ever wanted to kill the fucker, the Black Mass, I needed his help. If I ever wanted to do something more to atone, I needed some sort of control. I had to control the monster inside of me, and it wouldn’t be done with yelling and empty threats.
Yeah, man. It’s ok…and stuff. And look, I’m sorry for yelling at you. For the first time, Milgram didn’t sound like a murderously psychotic child. He sounded like a real person.