On The Nature Of Justice
| On The Nature Of Justice | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 02 July 2013 |
| Location: | The Volcano Lair |
| Synopsis: | Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne decides that he's had enough of Feige Abramson for the rest of his life. |
| Cast of Characters: | Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne |
Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne is not a violent man. Not by nature, not by inclination. Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne is a pacifist; he’s vowed never to take a human life, never to raise his hand against a living being. It’s a necessity, with the curse he bears - the shadows that gnaw at his soul, the taint of the darkness he passed through as his world fell apart around him, as Paris was subsumed into the everlasting shadows. To give into hatred, to allow anger to take control of him, to strike another man, was to let poison into his heart and slowly undermine all that he had done and all that he was.
It was easy, to talk about justice. The smile on his face as he had vanished from that dreadful Tower had been a genuine one, a serene one, as he passed through the portal of shadows and into the Dark Corridors. He had known exactly where he was going, as he grabbed the remains of the creature that called itself Feige Abramson through the spiral shadows; it was his will that forced the portal to shift, a shining bastion of will forcing the shadows to change their cast.
It was easy, to talk about justice. But no one really knew what it was. The Archadeans felt that Justice was following the law; that it was repayment for criminal activity, that it was a punishment deserved. The Twilight Detectives believed that Justice was turning the other cheek, putting someone away for a very long time so they could think about what they’d done. There were other kinds of Justice, too, but they weren’t the concern of Phantom Thief MARS; as the shadows split open and Max’s foot touched against the ground, his lips curved upwards in a terrible smile.
“Feige Abramson,” Max’s heavily-accented voice rings out through the chamber as he carries the head under his shoulder. “I do believe this is the closest we have ever been, non? This is the closest moment we have ever shared. Certainly the most intimate.”
Max knows that the remains of Feige Abramson will not start talking to him, or at least he suspects as much. But there’s something about the monologue - or, Cirra might say, something about his own voice - that put him at ease. It made him feel better about what he was doing, about what he was about to do. It was a small comfort, but it was a comfort nonetheless. “Do you know how much I hate you?”
The tone is simple, conversational, as Max makes his way through the volcanic ruins. It’s a werid serenity, a peaceful commentary rather than a grim or angered darkness. “Do you? I do not believe you do. I do not believe you realize the exquisite hatred I feel for you - or rather, felt for you, before tonight. Before tonight, I had thought long and hard about the many ways I wanted you to die. I had thought long and hard about how I would kill you.”
“You know too much. You know far too much. You know more about me than anyone who calls herself my enemy should. For that reason alone, I should kill you.” Max’s voice remains cheerful as he opens the door with a wave of his hand, magic and technology confounded alike by superior lockpicking skills and actual magical powers. He walks through the sliding double doors and pauses at the edge, staring down as he removes Feige Abramson’s head from his arm. He grabs it by the hair, dangling it down, so that she might perhaps see what awaits her.
“But...that would be selfish. Petty. Below me. I am not a murderer; I am not a man who kills because people have discovered my secret. If that was my first impulse, I would have killed most of those I call my friends, and all of those I love.” Max chuckles, as though the mere thought is ludicrous, then crouches down. “I am not a murderer.”
“But I had a talk with one of those I loved. She told me to abandon my anger. To seek justice. And that forced me to wonder - what does Justice mean? What is it, truly, Feige Abramson? Is Justice the swift and merciless death you no doubt deserve? Is Justice locking you away, to force you to suffer until you have repaid your debt to those whom you have wrong? Is Justice looking the other way, and hoping that you will repay my mercy with mercy on those I care for?”
Max turns the head around to look at him. “I have thought long and hard about Justice. And I have decided that Justice means doing what I must. I am going to end your life, Feige Abramson, because you do not truly have a life - you are a thing, an automaton, an empty, hollow bell. I will not break my vow for you...because you are not a person at all. You are hollow. You are empty inside. You can be replaced - I have no doubt that at this moment, the rest of your body is being rebuilt.”
“But for you, Feige Abramson - this you? It is over. You hurt the people I love. You threatened people I care for more than anything in the world. You know more about me than anyone has any right to steal. I am certain you would appreciate the irony - you have stolen my secrets. So I am stealing your existence.”
Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne drops her. He stands and watches as Feige Abramson’s automaton head plummets for the volcano below. He watches the whole way down, silently; he watches as it hits the convalescence point and bursts into flames, as it hits the magma and is vaporized completely.
Then he turns away and flicks his fingers to the side, a shadowy portal opening.
“I will not lose any sleep over destroying a doll.”
