the head | the hand (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dualisnet2020-01-19 08:00 pm
headandhand) wrote in dualisnet2020-01-19 08:00 pm
Entry tags:
video broadcast > all channels (backdated)
The cold rain that began the night of the Heart’s final meeting has continued steadily, and finally subsides around noon on the third day after the raid at the warehouse. The sunshine returns, deceptively cheery as a grim scene unfolds in Central Square Park. All roads in and out of the park are barricaded and guarded by Iterations, and should you find a way to make it into the park on foot, further entry is barred by even more barricades and Iterations about half a mile from the center, in the same clearing where the mayor’s Dualis Days commencement speech was bombed months ago.
The mayor isn’t present at the park today, but a large raised platform has been set up, with about a dozen poles spread evenly across, each with a beam jutting out and a noose hanging from the end of it. Short stools are set underneath each rope, waiting for the condemned to step up and meet their fate. In front of the platform are three places of honor for three special executions - the captured leaders of the Heart. The one on the left is a clear box, about double the size of a phone booth. In the center, a wooden stake has been placed, with a pile of kindling at the base. To the right is a small, plain wood scaffold. At each execution site, a pair of Iterations has been posted.
All channels buzz to life with a video broadcast of this scene, and a man’s voice begins to speak over the video, businesslike and stern: “We interrupt your regular programming to bring you footage of this important, historic event. This is Blake Botzir, reporting live from the studio, and joining me today is Mayor Marcelina Dubanowski. Mayor?”
The all-too-familiar voice of the mayor replies, exactly as pleasantly cheerful as always: “Thank you, Blake, I’m thrilled to be here. Thanks so much for having me!”
“Mayor, will you tell our viewers what it is we’re seeing here today?”
“Well, of course, Blake! You see, there’s been a group of criminals terrorizing our fair city for quite some time. They call themselves ‘the Heart,’ which I can only guess is supposed to be some kind of mockery of the Head, we never could get any of them to give an answer about that. Today, I’m pleased to announce that these terrorists have finally been apprehended, and in just a few minutes here, we will finally see justice done.”
One by one, the captured members of the Heart are marched out by Iterations from armored vans into the center of the park, battered and manacled, some more dragged along than walking the path toward their final ends. Most are filed up onto the platform and prodded to climb the stepladders, where an Iteration places and tightens the noose around each of their necks. Some of the prisoners are crying, some are stoic, some are angry, but none of them fight back.
Mello, Marie, and Vergil are marched out last, each placed at one of the three execution sites at the front of the gallows. Mello is pushed down onto his knees in front of the clear box, seething with rage but offering no resistance. Marie is taken to the center and chained to the stake, struggling to maintain her composure in the face of her imminent death. Like Mello, Vergil is shoved to his knees, but in front of the small scaffold, where an Iteration grabs him by the hair and slams his head down, holding him in place.
Blake takes up narrating again over the video footage: “So, Madame Mayor, from what I understand, these criminals were captured and interrogated a few days ago, then sentenced to final death for the crimes of sedition, terrorism, and arson, correct?”
“Yes, Blake, that’s exactly right! This is an extremely rare sentence for the city’s justice system to dole out, but extreme cases call for extreme consequences, and I can’t think of a more extreme example of wrongdoing in the entire time I’ve lived in Dualis. It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this, but our hope is that these executions will send a message that this sort of senseless criminal activity won’t be tolerated in this fair city of ours.”
“Thank you, Mayor Dubanowski. It appears the proceedings are about to begin. At this time we’d like to caution sensitive viewers to use discretion in watching the following.”
The mayor isn’t present at the park today, but a large raised platform has been set up, with about a dozen poles spread evenly across, each with a beam jutting out and a noose hanging from the end of it. Short stools are set underneath each rope, waiting for the condemned to step up and meet their fate. In front of the platform are three places of honor for three special executions - the captured leaders of the Heart. The one on the left is a clear box, about double the size of a phone booth. In the center, a wooden stake has been placed, with a pile of kindling at the base. To the right is a small, plain wood scaffold. At each execution site, a pair of Iterations has been posted.
All channels buzz to life with a video broadcast of this scene, and a man’s voice begins to speak over the video, businesslike and stern: “We interrupt your regular programming to bring you footage of this important, historic event. This is Blake Botzir, reporting live from the studio, and joining me today is Mayor Marcelina Dubanowski. Mayor?”
The all-too-familiar voice of the mayor replies, exactly as pleasantly cheerful as always: “Thank you, Blake, I’m thrilled to be here. Thanks so much for having me!”
“Mayor, will you tell our viewers what it is we’re seeing here today?”
“Well, of course, Blake! You see, there’s been a group of criminals terrorizing our fair city for quite some time. They call themselves ‘the Heart,’ which I can only guess is supposed to be some kind of mockery of the Head, we never could get any of them to give an answer about that. Today, I’m pleased to announce that these terrorists have finally been apprehended, and in just a few minutes here, we will finally see justice done.”
One by one, the captured members of the Heart are marched out by Iterations from armored vans into the center of the park, battered and manacled, some more dragged along than walking the path toward their final ends. Most are filed up onto the platform and prodded to climb the stepladders, where an Iteration places and tightens the noose around each of their necks. Some of the prisoners are crying, some are stoic, some are angry, but none of them fight back.
Mello, Marie, and Vergil are marched out last, each placed at one of the three execution sites at the front of the gallows. Mello is pushed down onto his knees in front of the clear box, seething with rage but offering no resistance. Marie is taken to the center and chained to the stake, struggling to maintain her composure in the face of her imminent death. Like Mello, Vergil is shoved to his knees, but in front of the small scaffold, where an Iteration grabs him by the hair and slams his head down, holding him in place.
Blake takes up narrating again over the video footage: “So, Madame Mayor, from what I understand, these criminals were captured and interrogated a few days ago, then sentenced to final death for the crimes of sedition, terrorism, and arson, correct?”
“Yes, Blake, that’s exactly right! This is an extremely rare sentence for the city’s justice system to dole out, but extreme cases call for extreme consequences, and I can’t think of a more extreme example of wrongdoing in the entire time I’ve lived in Dualis. It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this, but our hope is that these executions will send a message that this sort of senseless criminal activity won’t be tolerated in this fair city of ours.”
“Thank you, Mayor Dubanowski. It appears the proceedings are about to begin. At this time we’d like to caution sensitive viewers to use discretion in watching the following.”
VERGIL.
This always was how it was meant to end though.
It should have been Mundus... it should have been Dante if anyone, not some fucking group of robotic clones. At least Stephanie and Nick escaped. He knew that Mello and Will were caught just as easily as he had been. He knew it was over. His boss had been to see him between the brutal beatings he had received, slicing down his cheek with a hot blade to remind him that he was nothing more than property to the Malakye family. That they had trusted him, taken him in as one of their own when everyone else saw him as mad.
They had given him power and he threw it away, for what? A chance to get his precious sword back? To save the sheep the Head pulls in?
What a waste.
His boss had given his blessing for his death, adding to make him suffer first. You don't ever betray the family and get off light.
He had felt half dead as he was pushed along, hands chained the same as Mello and the others. "It's going to be alright." he muttered out as if he or Mello would believe it. Thank Sparda that Nick didn't seem to be around? Had they already killed Will? All he could think of was Kat's hurt face, Dante's rage when he messed up. He could feel the tears rolling down his face and he felt like a failure to his father's name, and yet... maybe Dante would be proud of him finally. Standing up for the smaller man again. Not trying to be a god or anything else. Just trying to help save people this time.
He was shoved forward, losing his balance as he tripped, his bloody pink stained hair flipping before his eyes as the executioner grabbed him by the hair. Seems he would be first. That was fine. He could die easier than he had ever lived....
...right?
Slammed down on the scaffold in front of the crowd watching.
"NEVER STOP FIGHTING! NEVER GIVE IN!" He screamed out as his head was slammed down again. He barely had time to register what had just happened. His steel blue eyes widening as he felt Yamato ripped from within the brand on his back. For as long as he had been here, since the Malakye forced the seal on him, his father's weapon couldn't be drawn. A scream of no ripped through him. Not with his father's blade. Not like this. He couldn't move then, held in place as the blade he was so proud of was lifted for all to see, coming down hard and fast.
"...Dante..." Was the last word to escape his lips as his head disconnected from his body and bounced away, his body shoved aside as the sword was handed back, now for the next....
MARIE.
Mello is pulled to his feet, and his shackles clank, metal against metal. Her head twists toward him, eyes wide with panic - is he next, then? His expression is one of pure terror, the sort that accompanies the dawning realization that he is no longer in control of his own body. Now he struggles, against his arms lifting up, palms turned upward. It only takes seconds for the realization of what is happening to settle in.
“Marie … I’m sorry.”
Flames crackle in his upturned palms, growing bigger and hotter as he looks on, helpless to halt what’s happening. Teeth clenched, he tries again to wrest control of his limbs from the unseen force that’s overtaken him, and again he fails. The fire is pushed from his hands to the kindling at Marie’s feet, and she closes her eyes and bites her lip so hard she tastes blood.
She won’t scream. She won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
The fire immediately catches the kindling under her feet, and she begins to quietly hum to herself, an old song of protest, of revolution, of freedom. She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes again, expression stony, defiance glinting in her eyes as she stares out at the cameras turned on her to record the death of the Heart. If it’s a show they want, that’s what she’ll give them - just not the one they want.
“Rise up,” she says, “take the power back.” Then again: “Rise up, take the power back!” Louder: “RISE UP! TAKE THE POWER BACK!” She chants the words over and over as the flames climb higher and higher, consuming her clothing and blistering her skin, coughing around the words through the smoke that curls into her lungs to suffocate her.
She does scream, eventually. For the next half hour, her words give way to formless shrieks of agony, until she finally falls silent, and the only sound left is the crackle of the flames.
The fire burns into the night, continues for hours until it finally exhausts itself and nothing is left but a pile of ash and bone.
MELLO.
Not only has he failed on a spectacular level, it’s all been brought to public light. This is far worse than losing to Near, even to Kira - because every single pair of eyes, organic or robotic, that watches him now knows. He is a failure.
And failing is worse than dying.
A cold, metallic needle pricks the side of his neck, and Mello fears that he knows exactly what’s about to befall him. In a matter of seconds, he’s weak, dizzy, easily dragged to the clear box and shoved through the door. The box seals itself immediately, no trace of the door or any exit left behind. He feebly pounds a fist against the wall, but it’s no use. He doesn’t have the strength to break it, if it’s even constructed of something breakable, and knowing the Head, it isn’t.
Despite the bonfire burning a few feet away, a sudden chill comes over him, and when he begins to cough, it’s not because of the smoke. He manages to pull himself to his feet with great effort, leaning heavily against the wall, and there’s black liquid smeared across his mouth. He shivers, skin pale and newly covered with spreading sores, and bangs a fist against the wall again, shouting angry words that are never heard outside of the transparent chamber of death. Soon enough, he ceases his yelling as heavy fits of coughing wrack his entire body, black liquid begins to ooze out of his ears and nose and mouth, and he falls to his knees again. When he finds the strength to look up in outrage that this is the shape his death is taking, his blue eyes are clouded over with cataracts.
It doesn’t take long for the virus to ravage his body. After a few more minutes of agonizing spurts of coughing and gasping for breath, more black liquid and decaying organic matter expelled, Mello slumps to the ground and gasps his last coughing breaths, convulses, and goes very, very still.
ET AL.
The Heart has stopped beating.