Heretic’s last day

Consciousness became something of a luxury after he was captured. Time, space, fiction or reality were things Keres could not perceive in the black space he was held in.

He slipped in and out, his eyes opened sometimes to painfully blinding light. In those times there were shadows examining him, sometimes they’d ask questions; occasionally with words but much more frequently with their boots to his face, their fists to his groin or metal bats on his back as he folded himself into a ball like a hedgehog in a futile attempt to cushion the blows.

He saw Sergent Krieg once, but the Major wasn’t there to cause any physical harm and only asked a question.

“On the morning of your arrest the T.M-1, a prototype made by the F-R&D, went missing. Do you happen to know anything about this?” And after getting an answer in the negative he duely left.

There were times Keres wished he had become what they wanted him to be: a mindless puppet of the empire. In those times he’d swear allegiance to his torturers, he’d sing the Fenikan anthem, he’d pledge to an imaginary flag with such vigor that his assailants would pause and watch him in amusement. The blows were delayed if only for a few seconds but they’d still come.

Other times he’d hang on to his stubbornness like it was his only possession, he’d take the beatings without crying out miserably. In these cases he lied to himself, he fooled himself into thinking ‘if I could take this without shrieking…If I could show my strength here they’ll let me go.’

Obviously it was false, he knew this himself but it didn’t matter since Sometimes the best steps to self control involves self deception.

After these ‘sessions’ they’d leave rusted bowls with paltry food in them and some water in a small plastic cup. Nothing was ever enough in that hole; the light, the food, the time, the tears, the sweat.

Everything they did though paled in comparison to their mental attacks, once after long stretches of time they’d slide in a mirror with his food and in that mirror he’d see a monster with chopped hair, missing teeth and an emaciated face. The fearful thing about the Vollstreck was not the physical harm they caused but their ability to completely render their captives incapable of evaluating self worth or respect. This worked pretty well on everyone they tried it on and after a few trials their fight and spirit were broken and they’d be taken to deadman’s cliffhanger for their liberation.

The adoption of differing ideals often arise from the realization of self, therefore diminishing that realization was always their aim.

After they tried this four or five more times on Keres they stopped, so did the ‘sessions.’ And after a time that felt like an eternity he was dragged out of his dark mass of a cell to a more spacious room where he was prepped, chained and shoved along in a line as the familiar execution chime echoed across the city.

Attending an execution was mandatory for every individual with a double headed phoenix insignia on their chest. So they were all there.

Keres was pulled by the binds on his wrists to the edge of the city where a wooden platform was positioned. They suspended him on a stake erected on that platform and left him to dry as the customary speech was given.

It was the same boring talk they gave every time which keres could hardly be bothered by, instead he was more interested in the faces of the crowd, in the myriads of people he never met and the few he did meet. The most pity he could find though were in the eyes of the unknown ones. In the eyes of the kids he saw curiosity, in the eyes of Doctor Gallagher and Ryker he saw sadness imbued with shame, in the eyes of Doctor strootman he saw regret and in the eyes of Thane he saw a flurry of emotions but the predominant one was anger.

Thane was wearing a jet black trench coat with a Breton cap on his head. At some point during Keres’ detention he’d been sworn in to the Vollstreck, it was the only way he could prove he shared no principle of his heretical roomate.

‘Why are you hell-bent on unearthing things that should rather stay buried? And why at the cost of your own neck?’

Thane’s words. He was always the pragmatic type and this decision to save his neck was just an example of his nature.

When the time came Keres was led, like the others before him, to the ledge and offered the same options.

“Jump off or die.” A rather young Vollstreck official was the one presiding the execution. He held his anti-matter gun, aiming at Keres’ torso.

Keres kept his eyes on the ground below the ledge with his back turned towards the crowd. A few minutes went by without him choosing, that’s why the place was called ‘deadman’s cliffhanger.’ Because of those few moments of suspense.

“Any last words, Keres?” Sergeant Major Krieg’s familiar voice came from a few paces behind the young official. “We usually offer our prisoners a chance to make their peace.” The smirk he had since that night hadn’t left his face.

Keres turned to face him and said his piece.

“You know, it was always stuffy up here.”

In an instant Krieg’s smirk washed away and was replaced by a scowl, he’d expected him to beg, to plead for his life. The sergeant snapped his fingers and the light from the anti-matter gun engulfed the ledge.

Nobody saw what happened next, nobody saw Keres tilt himself slightly as he fell backwards off the cliff.