Strange Tomato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strangetomato) wrote2008-01-21 07:38 pm
strangetomato) wrote2008-01-21 07:38 pm
Entry tags:
Strangetown: Chapter Eighteen
Warnings: violence and death
Chapter Eighteen
Olive waited outside, until Circe went upstairs to use the bathroom. Then she set about her work, scattering her materials around the room, and lit a match.
Loki would be home from work at any minute. Olive stepped aside and waited.
Loki exited the car and noticed the flames coming from the front entrance. He ran into the house, in a panic, fearful for Circe's life.
Olive was on him in a flash. Once he was at the top of the stairs, and looking around in confusion and fear, Olive stepped out from where she was calmly waiting.
He looked into her dark eyes for a moment, but before he could gather his wits, she had descended on him.
And she simply pushed Loki right into the fire.
It was surprisingly easy.
In his moment of weakness, she had trapped him. She had known their weakness. It was easy. The Beakers' weakness was each other.
They loved each other, and love makes you weak. It was easy to destroy something that let its guard down, while it attempted to save another. Any fool knew that.
Olive smiled. She waited for Circe.
Circe descended the stairs, and rushed into the room. "Loki!" She screamed. She noticed Olive standing outside. "You witch! Who are you? And what have you done to Loki?!"
"I'm Olive Specter." She said. "And I'm here to kill you." Circe didn't even seem to hear her, as she ran to Loki's aid.
"Circe! Upstairs!" Loki roared. "Make sure - is it safe?!"
"Loki! Loki, my love! It's okay - I'll save you!"
But it was far too late to save Loki Beaker. Death arrived to attend to his work.
Circe stumbled from the room, and fell to the ground. "Loki!" She screamed. "LOKI!"
Her greatest fear had been realized and now she was as helpless as a baby, convulsing on the cold stone floor. Olive smiled, entered the room and calmly began setting a fire around the delirious Circe.
"You should have thought about the consequences before you decided to do this to Osiris." Olive said. "It's unlucky that you happened to capture my son, but that was a risk that you took on yourself when you took him in."
Olive peered into the pit, then went to the switch to deactivate the stairs, and flipped it. "You can come out now, Osiris."
Nervous ascended the stairs, cautiously.
Nervous observed her fearfully, instantly recognizing her from his dreams. "You're the woman who kills people," he said. Olive laughed.
"That's right, Osiris," she said. "I'm the woman who kills people, and now I'm killing your captors, and setting you free. I'm taking you home."
"Home?"
"Yes, Osiris." Nervous reacted to the repeated use of that unfamiliar name. "I'm your mother, and I'm here to take you home."
Nervous saw Circe falling into the flames, screaming. For a second, this drew no feeling from him, and he simply acknowledged that would now be free from the Beakers forever.
Circe fell to the ground, consumed by the flames.
But then, he remembered that Circe was pregnant.
"No!" Nervous cried. "The BABY! Not the baby!"
"Don't take the baby!" He pleaded, as the figure appeared before him, just as it had been in each of his dreams.
"You wish that I spare this woman?" Death asked.
"Yes, please! Spare the baby!" he pleaded.
"But this woman was your tormentor. You still wish that she keep her life?"
"YES!" Nervous cried.
"Very well." Death said. "Anything for you... my son."
Nervous Subject's eyes widened, and he felt himself grow very dizzy. He coughed and staggered from the smoke in his lungs, and the turmoil in his head, and felt the room going dim. As he feel to the floor, he fixated on that one word.
Son.
My son.
It explained so many things about him.
Olive moved her son into the parlour, and lay him on the couch. He would be safe there, temporarily.
Olive observed her son with complete disappointment. Such a weak and merciful creature. She was ashamed to have produced him from her own body.
Then she remembered Loki's words, and started to make her way upstairs to the tower.
At the same time, Circe was rising from the floor.
"Circe Beaker." Death began. "You will be allowed to stay here, among the living, but never forget that you are technically mine now. If you do anything to harm my son ever again, I will simply come back to collect you. Is that clear?"
"Y-yes." Circe whimpered.
"Good. Also, you must do me this one favour. Your husband has been doing something up in the tower. Are you aware of it?"
"Yes."
"Then you will see that his work is taken care of properly, before the authorities get here? You'll insure the safe-keeping of that project?"
"Yes. I will."
Olive was on the rooftop, approaching the door to the highest tower. She reached for the handle and threw the door open.
There were four figures standing inside.
They silently observed her with their sad and downcast eyes.
"Monsters!" Olive roared. "Loki Beaker! What have you done?!"
"I must destroy them."
"You'll do no such thing." Death said, as he appeared before her. "Olive, it's time for you to go."
"But, my love, surely these monsters must be destroyed -"
"NO! They are mine, Olive!" He roared. "You will not have them. Not this time."
"Do you see this, Olive?" He raised the hourglass high above his head. "It's empty. Your time is up! I will give you enough time to finish the task as it was assigned to you, and not a second more! Is that clear?"
"Yes, my love."
"Go! Get Osiris, and bring him home. I'll be waiting for you there."
Olive did as she was directed, but not before she set the Beaker mansion on fire completely.
It would burn out until it was a hollow husk.
Olive dragged Nervous Subject's body into her courtyard and left him to rest on the ground. Her lover would arrive shorty to take her home. It was done.
She walked through her cemetery, past her collection of victims, and took a seat in the chair where she often sat to observe them.
She lowered herself into it and waited.
Death appeared, right on time.
Nervous Subject was stirring, and he awoke just in time to see his mother's life coming to an end.
The ominous, spectral figure of Death approached her.
"So, this is it, Olive, my love. Your very own death."
"That's it? That's all there is?"
"Yes, it's all there ever is, Olive. It's an ending. No matter how it happens, it is an end."
"But I always thought it would be different."
"It's never what you expect. Nobody ever gets it right."
"I'm no more special than any of them..."
"No." he said. "You aren't. But you're no less special either."
"Now, let's go..." he reached for her hand. "It's time to know the great unknowable."
At last, her searching would be over.
Olive Specter smiled and took her true love's hand. She left the living world behind forever.
Death looked at his son.
"Nervous Subject. My son, Osiris. You are now free. I would suggest that you lay low for a while here, for your own safety. This is your home now. You own everything here."
Nervous said nothing, but nodded.
"You are a living representation of death. You are alive, but you are also very much a part of death and the silence that comes at the end of life. I hope that you will take advantage of the opportunity to live, for I envy it." He smiled, if death could be said to smile, as faceless as he was.
"Live well."
And then he was gone.
He stood, devastated, though the sight was familiar to him. It was an all too familiar sight for him. The end of someone's life.
Nervous shuddered. So much death surrounded him. It had always been that way, and would, no doubt, always be.
And he wept. Not so much for his mother's life, or her death, but because of what she had been, and what she had made him into. It was her fault that he even existed.
The terrible thing that he was.
He went inside his home. That, at least, was one good thing that had come from that entire ordeal. He now had a home, and it was all his.
He gazed into his reflection as he had many times before. Was it possible to see, with the naked eye, the truth about him? Could he really live his life as if he were just another person?
He hoped so.
His hands were shaking. It was time for him to take his medication. But, this time, it wasn't going to happen. He wondered how long he had before this would become a major problem.
His head still clattered with noise, filled with unknown voices and thoughts. Was this how it would always be for him?
He entered the master bedroom and turned back the sheets. He would sleep, or, at least, attempt to sleep.
There would be dreams, no doubt, but he would no longer dream about the fire that would take the lives of the Beakers. It had already done so. He thought about Circe, and he wondered if he had done the right thing. For the sake of the innocent child, he thought that he had, but it was so hard to know for sure.
Either way, he would try to get some rest.
It was going to be a long night.
(Continue to Chapter 19 (part 1)...)
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