Nothing 'Just' Exists (1)

It would've be a cold day in hell when the war finally ended, explosions punctuated that fact. Bursting into the air like one big declaration of God's absence. Screams and groans seemed to pepper the sound scape like scratches on an old disc; a man some hundred yards stood. He was watching the orchestra from a hill. He, himself was nothing more than the postcard definition of a ghost--white silvery hair that fell back on to his shoulders like white water rapids. This man, this spectator was a solider, not one from any one nation of Elysium but a soldier in his own right. His name was Waltz Scion and he was barely in his 22nd year. He didn't choose to dye his hair white it happened all on its own--some sort of response to the stress of war. His brows were knit yet only one eye peered down from his position on high. One working eye, it was the one gift the dead gods of Elysium had ever given him and yet all he could ever see was the endless horrific war that Elysium--his home had become known for. The hills and the dry grass that accompanied it seemed to take a nose dive down, down, down. Soon devolving into nothing but miles upon miles of salt and sin--the skeletal remains of a deceased lake bed. His orders had been simple--go and wait. Don't get involved until things look exceptionally dire.  What bullshit he thought. War was dire and would always be dire. through all his whining he hadn't even noticed; like the thundering steps of a slumbering giant: Another platoon had arrived on the scene hungry for blood and the fame it would bring.  The worst possible outcome came to pass. The Burning Akatsuki arrived--a group more blood thirsty than any two bit marauder with a patriotism fetish. with their christened arrival this marked that things have now gotten exceptionally dire. 

     The Burn as they were called were well known sure--in the world of Elysium war was currency and these soldiers were said to be the richest men alive. however, as famous or rather infamous as they were there wasn't a whole lot most folk knew about them. 
"I heard they grow 'em in test tubes" a solider muttered. the memory fresh in the observer's mind. It was an encampment some hundreds of miles from the Kaos Salt Lakes he now found himself; the roasted rodent he chewed on was like tossing shoe leather between his molars. the memory continued playing like one of the big screens in Thanatos' capital Olympius. Another soldier: Dhomas Banqshat piped up, a cigar hanging shoddily out of his mouth.  "I heard they splice 'em. Chimeras or whatever" 
Waltz shook his head to these thoughts; there wasn't any merit to thinking like this. at the end of the day as far as he knew it: The Burn was made up of Humans. However as Waltz protested the memory...continued. Dhomas or at least the memory of him knit his brows. taking a long silent drag off his cigar he exhaled. "Ya know that ain't the only weird thing...heard they got something to do with the new guy in Kaiz...that whole bloody kingdom is a bad omen" the soldier stiffened, his thick accented voice shaking. the memory continued a couple dozen times, each time the more he bemoaned the meal he had the previous night--if he could even call it a meal. absentmindedly the man walked--his own heart beat was his 
Waltz however stopped; nearly halfway down the hill he forcibly halted. shaking his head and letting out a long, exasperated sigh. 
"Is this what Aits would define as dire?" he questioned. yet every second he wasn't moving a body dropped to the ground, countless nameless soldiers snuffed out like candlelight. fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. people with families just dropping like flies--a pit grew where his stomach had once been. while not his first taste of the reality of war and most certainly not the last--he still hated to watch it. C'est La Vie as he heard it said; that's just what life was like on Elysium.
He moved slowly, the rifle strapped on his back swaying and jostling with each small step the man made. He was a short man and it was clear just from looking at him that his rifle weighted him down quite considerably. however, he wasn't gonna let that slow him down--he never let his other sins stop him. 
 Waltz mused under his breath the words gripped his throat like lamenting bile. Waltz grumbled to himself--now it had gotten dire. he strode tearing up the dry the fields, his brows furrowing into a determined  Mechanical fingers wound themselves tight around a saber's hilt. Waltz's dominant hand had long since been regarded as a causality in the war to end all wars; however, through the marvels of modern medicine this man--possibly long before he was a man was able to use the lost appendage once more.
Mixed in among the ranks of all the Burn was a single gilded woman, her face was the textbook definition of disinterest, her eyes affixed on the ground watching the blood and the salt of the lake's remains coagulate and congeal into a new "something". A wax mask was the closest thing her face resembled in its dormant state. she was seated, hunched over, watching from atop her "throne". the mercy seat she sat upon was merely a pile of soldiers piled and arranged--even as the bloodshed continued her face didn't stir. suddenly her eyes shot forward, a predatory bloodthirst emanated from her stare alone: palpable and suffocating. her brows knit and it was then a small ember seemed to catch on a corner of her wax mask.
"Who're ya?" she asked bluntly, almost immediately turning her gaze back to the blood she was all too preoccupied with. 
"a human...one just like you" Waltz stated simply. this was when the woman's mask melted away revealing the knit brows of an intrigued woman. a soft bemused chuckle grumbled its way out of the woman's mouth. she leaned against her throne threatening to nearly topple the whole structure. 
"Oi! Boys!!! ya hear this shit??" she began to cackle. "I oughta give you the death penalty for that statement alone" she sighed. "you're lucky I'm so damn bored. I was supposed to rip the wings of hornets today" she shrugged, stood up and slowly drew forward. her movements were subdued but belied the "look" in her eyes. "What name do you want on your headstone, Mr. Human?" a soft snicker hung on the final word; a punctuative mockery. 
"Scion, Waltz Scion" Waltz introduced himself, making several small movements: removing his rifle, tossing aside his knapsack--this most certainly wasn't his first rodeo. the gilded woman tilted, her mouth breaking into an odd Cheshire grin--she was laughing by now, she laughed, and laughed and laughed. a couple of loud hoarse cracks broke out of her mouth. she lurched forward like a puppet--one who's strings were horribly mangled. 
"What was that?" her voice more of a command than the intonation of an inquisition. "Scion! that clan?" she turned to her congregation. "Oi!!! Boys!!! seems we are getting our bonuses early after all. King Odin will be very bloody pleased!!" suddenly there was a choking in her voice--the laughter was over now. "...Hornets...?" a hushed voice gave the word life, yet the word echoed off her lips like the most vial slur. her brow furrowed--a scowl mixed with a glare as the gilded woman gazed. "Hornets!" the woman's voice melted into a venomous hiss; glare was like daggers. yet there was something else that joined the soundscape--not the sounds of the groaning half dead soldiers, nor that of any of The Burn soldiers who shuffled about. it was a smaller noise--a chime. ka-link ka-link ka-link the noise baptized the battlefield in its gentle embrace--however on this world such chimes were death knells. 
"You...you rats" her voice shot down, murdered the death knell. "you lot ruin everything." her face seemed to contort more and more with each snarled syllable. 
"I'm only here on orders, I'm just here to patch up the fallen and make sure the body count doesn't get into the quadruple digits" Waltz stated. "you can't beat me lady so just let me do my job" 
"...beat you? no! no! NO! I don't want to simply! Beat you! I want you dead!" 
"get in line sister...you ain't the first and won't be the last" he turned-- seemingly picked up the woman's burnt disinterested mask. "however I do have a question" water gathered at his fingertips, not too much just a couple dabs of moisture; bubbles formed--effortlessly it was like producing these bubbles was as easy as breathing for the man. "is it true that you Burning Akatsuki lot are created in labs? although i guess that's too forward" He tied the bubble around a wounded soldier's arm--moving to the next, and then the next. 
"Labs? hell no! we're hand picked by Lord Odin! trained from birth--" 
"hand picked? Honey you're not making this sound any better for you. plus Odin is a dim witted King more of a business mogul than a leader--I would know" 
"and what do you know Waltz the Mercy!?" 
"is that really what I'm called by ya'll? man that's so lame" a defeated sigh quivered out of the man's mouth. 
"you asked your question now let me ask mine" 
"go ahead I ain't gonna stop you" 
"Why don't you kill?" 
"i think the proper question is why does everyone find it necessary to kill...if we pooled resources--" 
"Don't dodge the question!!" 
"I don't kill because I want to" 
"what kind of flimsy ass answer is that!?" 
"what? am I supposed to have a reason? all life has value...an antelope feeds a lion--that's its value...a lion dies and its body feeds the grass. antelope eat that grass. that's the lion's value. humans are similar--we only do things if we have to...there's always a reason someone wants me dead...or always a reason someone does anything. what kinda person would I be if I stated that my will, my dreams, my whatever was stronger and more important that yours, or his or King Odin's...that's what killing is. imposing your will on someone else to the ultimate degree....yeah I hate the Burning Akatsuki but...you're just people...nothing Just exists...I ain't righteous...you aren't nobody is...and I refuse to believe killing can be justified as 'just' or 'righteous'"