[Mock-Fiction] II - Memento Mori

Note: Please read the Formal Notice movella. It should be on the list on the right hand side.

The sequel to 'Requiescat in Pace'

Cover by Secrets Unfold

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8. Six - Overdose

Death depends on your situation. It can be freedom; it can be the end of a happy life. To those who remain alive, it could be sorrow, it could be a victory. “

~ Dragon Soul Jess

 

 

There was a very special member of the Brotherhood. She did not deal with death, like Rogue or Richard. Or theft and piracy, like Jess and Vesp. She did not deal in brothels or inventions, like Letha and Lia either.

She was very, very unique.

This member was a nun. An abbess, to be specific. And she and her nuns were the most perfect spies spread all over Puritan UAF. And she was the perfect killer, if the deed was necessary – she was an expert on poisoning.

 

She had pale green eyes and pale white skin; and dark black hair that was covered in a loose black habit than trailed down to her ankles. Her face bore a calming, soothing appearance; and there was deep wisdom behind the pretty eyes. She had a rosary in her hands, eleven black beads stringed into a circle, beginning and ending at a decent-sized silver crucifix. Each bead was inscribed with a letter, and the rosary read: Britney.

 

Britney gazed at Justin now. He was shivering throughout the absence of Louis Tomlinson. She shook her head. Justin had developed a serious case of trauma – even before he was brought to the Masyaf Dungeons – and no psychological expert was able to figure out a solution. Many had suggested giving him Prozac, and just waiting to see if that worked or if he killed himself [and this was long before the Brotherhood even existed]; but even that didn’t help. Rogue had a soft spot for him, Britney knew, even though the faceless woman would never admit it. Rogue had a soft spot for anyone who was deserving of it. And Rogue considered Justin worthy, so she’d brought the man to Britney, to see if the calm-faced abbess could do anything about his condition.

 

Britney had dealt with him for days on end: Making him say prayers, escorting him to the friary to observe the Mass on Sunday, and even showering him in holy water every now and then. But Justin had been a major annoyance to Britney – regardless of Rogue’s attitude.

Justin was just an attention seeker.

Like he’d always been. And you know what they say: Old habits die hard. At every passing moment, all Justin would speak of were his songs. And now it was all he could say. It served the old sod right. So what if he was crazy? He put himself into it. Simmering in his own soup. He may have been a pacifist, but that didn’t stop him from illicit behaviour, profuse drinking and drug abuse.

 

So, after some three or four weeks with Justin, Britney demanded he be put back in prison or put to the sword. Rogue had no problem with the request. Who was she to question an abbess’s judgment anyway? So she locked the lunatic up, and sent a guard to give him food three times every day.

 

Until today, that is.

 

Whatever she’d thought before, Britney could sympathise with Justin now. Rogue wasn’t paying attention any more, she was too busy staring out the window and she’d keep staring until they were done with this whole affair. She did not like overkill – and she just saw her Maestro commit to it, and that wouldn’t mean well for Richard in future. If Rogue didn’t annoy him already with her sarcastic nonsense, her blatant criticism and her insistence on calling him a “wuss” every so often; she would certainly annoy the hell out of him now.

 

Britney sighed, and just then Louis came back to the room. If Liam’s body was horrible, then Louis’s could have made Rogue puke. But it didn’t, of course, she was too engrossed in her window-site-seeing. Louis’s corpse was half-eaten, his legs missing, the ragged flesh dripping with fresh gore. There was blood seeping from his eyes, like red tears, and his nose had been chewed off. His mop of curly hair was drenched and heavy with his own gore; and the fingers on his hands were all missing. His head struggled to cling to his neck by a single piece of skin. Buzzards were already picking at the dead flesh, buzzing from one ragged hole to the next, going in and out of his wrung-out veins – feasting.

 

Britney took a glance at Richard. She saw his jaw clench – his emotion unreadable beneath the cowl on his head – but he didn’t do anything more. Vesp brought his hand before Justin. The beaten-up man tensed, and then shook his head vigorously.

“I will never say never…” he murmured, his lips quivering.

But then he saw Britney. She was staring at him, and he was confused by her expression.

Worried? he thought, She’s…

He looked at Vesp again, but it was clear that the hand with the pills would not move.

 

He was going to take the jump. Just like Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson.

 

Quickly, he took a handful of the Red and Blue Pills, and stuffed them in his mouth. He chewed them up, ignoring the synthetic taste, and swallowed them in the hope they’d kill him instantly. He did not fade like the other two. He vanished immediately.

Vesp straightened, feeling that he’d already seen too much for one day, and turned away from the others, “Don’t bother suggesting anything,” he said, “The Apple will decide Bieber’s fate. And, frankly, his chance of passing the Apple’s test is even slimmer that Louis’s chance of passing Richard’s test.”

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Justin didn’t see the white place… it was just very dark for a very long time…

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