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heamatic-a · 4 years

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@kathexismania

He’s familiar with the sensation of his heart spurting out of his chest and forming into another human; Hanzo Hasashi sees himself in Cassandra Cage, and she’s become the best version of what he has always prayed to be. Now, his head rests in the curve of her lap, and he hears the angels call him to remember their moments. He always has been a believer of the trajectory of two souls. For they don’t randomly find each other by simple accident. And while it has taken him a while for her laughter to warm her heart as he would find serenity in the depth of her clear ocean eyes. Acceptance in her beautiful smile and hope in the unending, immeasurable love she gives. He accepts with open arms, for her heart is now his home.

Their respective fragility had choked them; Hanzo with his befalling temper and impulsiveness getting the best of him, as his entire universe had become the graveyard, as he sprawled in fatigued exhaustion, defeated and wounded both physically, but more mentally. It would take years for him to find his footing, for he was too striken with guilt and remorse to float. While Cassandra fought off that Fallen Elder God, who would carve the world anew in annihilation as the Netherrealm’s oppression would conquer the Earthrealm in a ruthless sweep.

“Your love mystifies me and makes me want to pursue something even larger than anything either of us could ever want from the other, larger and therefore better than my soul, my body, or my universe itself,” the plastered warmth of his long fingers entwine against hers, as he brings her knuckles towards his lips, before letting them melt upon the sharp valley of her bones. “私が人生において正しいことをしたならば、それは私のハートをあなたにあげた時です. It means ‘If I did anything right in my life, it was when I gave my heart to you.‘ And perhaps the moment I saw the extension of your passion and harbored strength, to bring down Shinnok, then looking at the echoing screams through the abysses of our traumatic battles… You have mended the shattered pieces of my self-worth and given me the reason and voice to live each and every day with pinnacle of hopes and dreams.” The Shirai Ryu Grandmaster mumbles against Cassie’s smaller palm, as the geyser breath permeates through their shared milieu. “I am genuinely, truly proud of what you have achieved and made a name for yourself. Even when I was older than your age, I could have never fathomed to accomplish what you have already accomplished, for I lacked fortitude and will. And I could not be more happier for you, that you will be working more closely even as professional diplomats. I am immensely proud to be not only your boyfriend, but someone whom I can draw inspirations from.“

*:･ﾟ❤️┇ Sunset — brilliant pigmentation of the sky — it’s enough to make her feel so small, yet such salient feeling errs on the precipice of her mind: solemn and calm, her fingers thread through Hanzo’s long, thick obsidian hair, soft between digits. In this moment she reminisces not just on past events but on the present as well, conjures the best of them behind her mind’s eye — smiles drunkenly without intoxication. Has she ever felt home as much as she does now? Her love is unsurpassed, bare and raw, yet soft as it is strong as spider’s silk. She could sleep like this, even if it’s early, even if the night is yet to slip through the firmament’s stronghold.

As he begins his serenade, Cassie’s gaze follows downward — head tilts. There’s always something to magical and ethereal in Hanzo’s words, in the way his baritone voice drops, vibrates into the marrow of her bones and secures her. Speaks in poems and verses of love, and she cannot help falling in love a little more every time. An easy smile pursues her lips as he finds her knuckles for a kiss. She could listen to him, get lost into him, for days on end, nights once parched from loving caresses and earnest rhymes, now full to the brim and spilling into rivers of beauty. And how she loves when his native tongue becomes divertimento, a love song, happily drowns further into loving woes.

But the rest, what comes next — she’d not expected — as it came like a current, a torrent, a tsunami striking what walls she still had erected, heavily corroded by his presence yes, but always present as ruins of her psyche. Beaming smile falters, then disappears entirely. Heart in her throat and emotions laid bare, Cassie feels her throat contract, close. It’s not panic, no, panic would have completely blocked her airways, panic would have broken her to pieces, but the way her body reacts is not so far from it, the way her whole being seems to traverse invisible cities to reach a single emotion she cannot pinpoint beyond bewilderment. Hanzo Hasashi, who had walked through hell and back more than once, had lost and lost and lost and seldom ever gained anything in return — Hanzo Hasashi, her love, yes, but also a man beyond her admiration for his devotion to life, praising her? Or just praising at all — births all the emotion at the center of her chest to hurl past her throat. No one — none — had ever spoken to her so poignant, so true.

Her disbelief sits inside her belly like a tumor, turns into a fist, and she realizes her cheeks are burning, and her eyes are aflame, and her hand in his now carries a tremor. ❝I….❞, finds her voice strangled, broken. How she had longed to hear even remotely close to such praise — from anyone. The tears have already come — can’t stop them so she’s living with them, but it’s no less embarrassing. Does not know what to say, what to add. ❝…. thank you….❞, she whispers. Adds: ❝I feel so dumb… dammit…❞ Wipes at her cheeks furiously along a disconcerted laugh, ❝you’re complimenting me and I’m freakin’ crying.❞

#kathexismania‌#╰ *:･ﾟship ──❝ you are not just a star to me; you are the whole sky ❞ ❪ hanzo/cassie. ❫#submission #[ ooooof my feeeeels ]#╰ *:･ﾟthread ──❝ cassie cage ❞

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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As Fate Would Have It (Part 15)

Paring: 1940s!Bucky x Spy!Reader

Catch Up here | Masterlist

Words: 4.1k | Note: Reader’s alias is Elle/Helen

A/N: Listen I know I said I’d take a pause with updating this series like a day ago -and I also know I said the last chapter was the final 1940′s storyline, BUT! I had another bout of insomnia and had this story stuck in my mind!

Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, torture, themes of POW, PTSD

Note: We’re finally using the Y/N abbreviation here kiddos! I haven’t proofread!

Highly recommend you listen to any of these pieces with the chapter: I will find you | Frozen in Time | If You Care (song)

Feel free to ask to be tagged, leave a like, reblog or comment ♥

~Some Time Later~

"Commencing test number eleven of phase two," Dr Zola spoke into the voice recorder placed on the medical table. His small hands flipped the switch of the device you were strapped into and the hum of electric currents rang in your one good ear- the other eardrum was still healing from weeks prior.

"Ahhhhhh!" Your shrill screams overlapped with the buzzing sound of the electric chair. The air was filled with the smell of burned hair and your mouth tasted like foam. Your vision in one eye was blurred with a red haze from the ruptured blood vessel.

Dr Zola flipped the switch off after your screams dissipated into hoarse shrieks, "The subject’s pain threshold seems to have grown exponentially since her last dose." He signalled for the squirmy man dressed in doctor scrubs to go towards you. In silence, he stalked towards you, hand holding a syringe with a six-inch needle and bent your head down so he could administer the contents of the syringe between the ridges of your spinal cord.

"The twelfth dose has now been administered," Dr Zola spoke out in observation. You swore under your breath at him. He simply turned his head to the side like a dog confused by high pitched sounds.

"And now for the second step," he urged his assisting scientist to begin the second part of the experiment. He walked over after having grabbed a scalpel and pressed it into the muscle between your elbow and wrist on the arm with less scaring and sliced down in a perfectly symmetrical line. The blade separated your flesh in a slow and gruelling manner making you hiss behind your clenched jaw. Blood spilt out and dripped onto the floor letting out wet splashing noises every time blood dripped down. The man placed the scalpel back on the medical table before joining Dr Zola's side with a clipboard and pen while the doctor started his stopwatch.

They watched on edge, their eyes skittering from the stopwatch to your still open wound in anticipation of some change they could catalogue. One minute passed and they jotted down something on their clipboard. Two and their faces grew grimmer. Three and Dr Zola looked almost red with anger. Finally after five minutes passed it was clear nothing profound would happen.

You laughed defiantly before you spit out the blood that had accumulated in your cheek. It splattered close to their shoes making them scowl at you in disgust. "Look at that, I'm still a failed experiment!" Your laughs echoed weakly around the room infuriating the two men.

"Do it," Dr Zola said coldly.

His assistant nodded and flipped the same switch from before, this time with the dial cranked a few volts higher. Electricity burned into your flesh from the metal restraints that only got hotter the longer the current passed through them. Your nails were digging into the tattered leather straps that fastened you to the chair, hundreds of half-moon marks accumulating from all the time spent in this particular torture room.

All of a sudden, Dr Zola's eyes lit up as he stared down at your sliced open arm, "Turn it off!"

The buzzing stopped and the current was held at bay, your body trembling as it tried to reset itself. You had a hard time moving your head, but when you finally got it positioned so you could see your arm, your one good eye went wide and then blinked in quick succession as you tried to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Your wound was healing right before your eyes. Sluggishly and very easy to miss if you didn't stare at it for a long time, but it was indeed healing.

"Ha! Ha! We have had our first breakthrough!" Dr Zola cheered with pride as his assistant walked closer to monitor your arm thoroughly.

"It seems you were right Dr Zola. With a controlled amount of your serum present within a subject's bloodstream, rapid cellular regeneration is possible. Perhaps this could finally unlock the secrets to immortality." The assistant said with a naive smile on his face.

Dr Zola paused for a moment, no longer stewing in his glory, "Yes well, hypothesizing is one thing. We still need to find a way to trigger the healing process without requiring an external electric current to excite the molecules within a body."

"One small step Herr Zola!" The assistant said triumphantly.

Dr Zola ignored the younger scientist as he looked down at his watch with a troubled expression, "Log your findings with the rest of the data. Try and replicate the results with a new subject. I am needed elsewhere, Schmidt has asked me to accompany him as he tours the Austrian weapons factory. You will be in charge of the experiments on this level. Return her to her cell."

The young assistant saluted and hailed. Dr Zola mirrored his actions before fixing his collar and walking out of the room.

***

It had felt like months since Dr Zola left for Austria. Despite his absence, the experiments didn't stop.

Your days all blended together to form one long unending day that repeated over and over like clockwork. For a long time, you had held onto the hope that you'd manage to escape this hellish place, but after four failed attempts you had given up on that dream. Your body wasn't in any physical condition to fight as well anymore, the constant tests and drugs flushed in your system at any given time rendered you useless. All you could do was hold onto your last wits to keep your sanity from snapping. Most nights you'd think about your small Brooklyn apartment or the hideous diner outfit you'd wear to work.

You made it a rule to only think about the harmless things. The little things that wouldn't bring you pain or make you feel even more alone in the dark. That was a privilege reserved for the memories of the people you loved and the sweet torment they brought to your dreams. No matter how each dream began it would always, always, transition into an unstoppable nightmare.

You'd occasionally wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming of better circumstances; going dancing with Sally; lounging on vacation with Bucky; playing board games with Steve. Each time they'd all end the same: with them ripped away from you.

A little scatter of sunlight shone down on your face, alerting you to the fact it was day time. You turned to your side to face the wall marked by number tallies. You had stopped trying to keep track of the days after you spent an unknown number of days in a medically induced coma. You'd figured there wasn't any point.

The sound of banging on your door forced you to stand on jelly legs, eyes still foggy as you swayed from your inner ear being off balance.

"Back against the wall!" A guard shouted.

You did as he said, although it took a little effort to keep your knees from caving beneath you.

The door opened and two guards walked in, one bound your hands behind your back while the other kept the door open. When you were marched out of your room, you noticed the entire base was bathed in red light as several other prisoners were ushered out of their rooms -all looking as worse for wear as you did.

"Wha- What's going on?" You croaked out.

The guard behind you grumbled, refusing to answer your question.

"Prisoner transfer," a strange man said from the adjacent line beside you. He was hobbling on one leg while another prisoner helped him stay upright. His bony back was hunched over to the point you could just make out the needle tracks along the base of his spine. It seemed you had something in common.

Your head bobbed from side to side, making sure none of the guards noticed you before you asked: "How do you know?"

He leaned closer so he could whisper a little louder, "I heard the scientists talking next to my cell. Something happened. They're scared. We're being transported to another facility."

You ducked closer with interest, "Where?"

"Russia."

***

The convoy's journey was long and uncomfortable, the flaps from the tarp covering the trucks did little to keep the biting cold at bay. You and several strangers dressed in the same monochromatic garbs huddled together like a bundle of shivering sticks in a futile attempt to stay warm. The guards didn't bother to post people in the back with you. Most of you posed no threat and there would be no chance of surviving this cold without sight of shelter or civilisation for miles.

The truck took the bumpy road with no finesse at all. Every pothole caused the truck to bounce and jostle you all about. The creaking noise of the chassis bumping against the frozen shock suspension had become as synonymous to your good ear as the incessant ringing that persisted in the other. On multiple occasions, you would accidentally slam your body against the cold metal of the truck. You'd groan in protest since your organs were already sore from all the poking and prodding that had become your routine. The entire ride was grievous, it was like being strapped to a piece of debris amidst a tsunami, so when a loud noise cracked through the silence, filling your vision with a hot white flash and overturning the truck, your only reaction was to brace your body for the coming impact.

Akin to dominoes toppling one after the other, each truck in the convoy behind you suffered similar fates. One was heaved off the ground and turned on its side by a controlled explosion below the front wheels while another swerved out of control from a series of sharp whistling noises that left circular holes atop the hood of the car.

Chaos ensued as your vision was bombarded by flashes of bright lights and explosive flames roaring to life. The sound of gunfire and screams and cries of agony mixed together to form a deafening cacophony of anxiety and fear. Your heart caught in your dry throat as adrenaline shot up in pin prickling spikes across your tender muscled back.

The younger you would have seized this opportunity to hunt for a weapon and make a break for it, but instead of doing exactly what you had been trained to do, you simply cowered in the overturned truck -your hands covering your ears as your molars ground against each other.

Another explosion went off close to the truck. Shrapnel tore through the tarp and planted itself into your thigh and shoulder and back. The multiple screams of pain coming from everyone else in the truck proved you weren't the only one whose body was now acquainted with foreign metal shards.

It wasn't until you felt warm liquid dampen the edge of your trousers that you were forced out of your stupor. Blinking erratically, you tried to sit up and make sure none of your arteries were punctured. To your relief, you realised the blood wasn't yours. But as soon as that revelation sunk in, your blood turned cold all over again as you looked over to the one-legged man before going into shock.

"Fuck! No..." You scurried with shaky hands to his side, your breathing escalating to pants. "Hey, hey…I need you to focus. Hey-" You slapped his cheeks in quick successions. "What's your name?"

"What?" He asked, discombobulated from everything that was happening.

"Your name?" You asked again while tearing cloth from your shirt to act as a tourniquet around his leg.

"H- Hans..." he said with a weak smile.

"Okay Hans, I need you to apply pressure here," you moved his ridged hand towards the spot where blood slithering oozing out. "That's good Hans. Now I need you to stay awake."

You turned to the other scared prisoners, looking for a face that seemed less afraid than the other.

"I need you to keep him talking," you ordered a young woman. She was shaking, but her eyes were more astute than the rest. Despite her quivering lips and blue-tipped fingers, you knew she would oblige.

"O- Okay," she quivered as she knelt beside Hans and tried to hold a conversation.

Hesitantly, you left the confines of the truck and headed to the driver’s seat where you hoped to find a first aid kit. Prying the door open was difficult on account of your weak arms. The door had jammed from a dent caused by the flip. You lifted your leg and leaned against the car door as you pulled the handle until it came loose. You cursed, threw the handle and kicked in the glass window. One of the shards was large enough for you to catch a glimpse of your reflection by your feet. You had grown accustomed to the reality that being someone's lab rat would leave you with scars that wouldn't heal, but somehow it always shook you to your core when you were reminded of how unfamiliar your hair colour had become. When the shocks first started, you had noticed a few slivers of hair turning silver. Now… now your whole head was the same colour as the snow you were currently standing in. You look almost ghostly. In a way, you felt that was truer than much else.

You kicked the glass away, not wanting to waste any more time lamenting what had become of you, and slinked your arm through the window. Patting down against the corpse of the driver and underside of his seat.

Bang!

Another explosion went off, birthing black smoke around it. You jumped and cut your arm on some jagged glass before taking three short breaths.

"Come on Y/N, you can do this."

You reached back into the car and kept feeling around for something. Your muscles instinctively flinching when a gunshot went off. Finally, after spending far too long in the open, you found something you could use: a lighter and a knife. You grabbed the concealed handgun from the driver's boot for safety.

Walking back you noticed a trail of red spots that undoubtedly belonged to you. You had to compartmentalise. One step at a time. All you could think of was getting Hans to stop bleeding.

"Hans, hey… Look at that, you're still talking," you said.

He half chocked on a faltering laugh, "Once I start talking, you can't- Tsssss! Can't… Ahhh! Get me to stop..."

You began burning the tip of the knife with the lighter, "I'm going to dig the shrapnel out before I cauterise the wound. I need you to talk through the pain."

"Heh, you know… you kind of remind me of my wife. I drove her to grow grey hairs too early too," he said reminiscently.

"Where's your wife now?" You asked as you removed the knife from the flame. He didn't answer.

After some struggling breaths, Hans asked: "You ever married?"

Your eye twitched at his question forcing you to close your eyes for a second. Then you looked up at his searching gaze with a smile that felt too heavy to carry, "Only in my nightmares." You tried to amuse him.

He let out what should have sounded like a laugh but came off as a series of groans and hisses.

Without warning him, you dug the knife into his wound and fished out the piece of shrapnel in one nerve-wracking move. He bit down on a belt the girl beside you had given him as you finished up burning his intrusive cut closed.

Once he stabilised you noticed the gunfire had stopped. The sound of boots crunching in the snow grew louder. You cocked the gun and pointed it with unsteady aim out towards the open snow. The gun seemed to grow heavier as your eyesight kept going in and out of focus. Vertigo set in as the thrumming of your heart resonated in your ears. When the boots stopped in front of you, the gun slipped from our hands. You looked down and noticed you hadn't stopped bleeding, your skin was beginning to pale.

"Shit..." you said groggily.

Your head hit the ground hard, your body half out of the cover of the truck. Above you stood a woman wearing an eyepatch with short blonde hair and a cigarette held between her yellowing teeth.

She knelt beside you, machine gun slung against her chest, and ducked her head to see into the truck better. She gave a sarcastic salute to the group of scared prisoners before saying in fluent Russian: "Welcome to Mother Russia."

She looked down at you again and smiled, "You look like shit, tovarishch..."

A gasp of air left your blueing lips as your eyelids closed shut.

***

The echoes of the events that transpired played like muffled noises coming through weak walls. Eventually, the noises grew more savage- deafening to the point your body jerked at each reverberation of a gunshot or explosion that your mind brought to life in your semi-conscious state. Soon, discombobulated memories began to overlap with each loud bang.

Bang!

"Report."

Bang!

"You make a habit of flirting with waitresses you just met, Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome?"

Bang!

"Only the beautiful ones. Call me Bucky, it's shorter -and that smug mess is Steve,"

Bang!

"You ready, doll?"

Bang…

"You're my safe harbour. I want you to know that."

Bang!

"Sweet dreams."

BANG!

"Gahhh!" You gasped awake, the nape of your neck sticky with sweat. You woke up in a tent, the door flap folded half-open to reveal a dying fire. The horizon breaking with the first glints of a sunrise. Several other tents were pitched up. The smell of coffee, cigarettes and grease was mixed with the cold mountain air. By your bedside was a change of clothes and the same gun you had fished off the dead driver.

***

Yelena had just finished briefing the skeleton mercenary crew about their travel trajectory. They began to pack down their tents after she gave them the last of her money. Her things were already packed so she decided to sit by the dying fire and wait.

Yelena scrunched her nose in disgust. The coffee tasted like piss, but little could be done to correct that. Her yellowing fingertips absentmindedly brushed at her eyepatch. The phantom pain had returned with a vengeance ever since she rescued Y/N from the Hydra convoy. Her stomach grew uneasy as bile crept up to her throat. Regret and anger weighing her down like a stone, drowning her in her own petty sorrows.

Click-

The sound of a guns hammer being pushed back brought a smile to her face.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up, tovarishch..." she took a sip of her piss water and immediately regretted it, but she swallowed it down. “I like the hair."

"Give me. One! Reason..." Y/N struggled to say in a raspy voice.

Yelena flinched at how coarse her former subordinate’s voice had become. Without looking up, Yelena said solemnly, "I can't."

"The fuck kind of excuse is that?" She was seething.

"It isn't."

"Where are the other survivors?"

"We salvaged a vehicle," Yelena looked at her men and shook her head to tell them to stand down. "I sent them off."

"Are you here to take me back?"

"No..."

"I don't believe you!"

"There's nothing to go back to."

The gun in Y/N's hand shook, "Then why come for me?"

"It was always the plan. Once Hydra was through with you, we'd swoop in and bring you home." Yelena lit a cigarette between her bare lips. "And either way, you'd have succeeded in your mission. In place of research, we'd have you."

"You sold me out so I could be a glorified lab rat?"

"You would never have gotten away with it. Faking your death never sticks. Not for long. Your mind has always been limited with thinking of the now. I had to make a tough call that would ensure you lived to see tomorrow." Yelena dusted the snow from her trousers, tossed the remaining coffee on the fire and turned to face Y/N and her loaded gun. "This wasn't a rescue mission. There is no cavalry coming. No one to call."

Y/N hit Yelena square in the jaw with the butt of her gun. Yelena saw the blow coming but chose to let it stick. She chuckled lifelessly after spitting out droplets of blood.

"What of the Red Room?"

"As far as they're concerned, once we lost the war you were declared KIA. It's just me now. I got Intel of the convoy, I took a chance."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" Y/N squinted her eye, the other suffered too much trauma to do more than twitch. "You sold me out! You let them take me… You let them experiment on me for months!" Her voice cracked as a tear ran down her cheek.

"Months?" Yelena asked with confusion. "Tovarishch, what year do you think it is?"

Y/N stumbled backwards, "Wh- What? It's… It's 1942… Maybe '43."

Yelena's eye grew wide, "Tovarishch… it's 1947."

"N- No. No, no, no! No. It can't be..." Y/N's breathing became frantic, the gun rattling in her hand. "I kept count. I- I couldn't have been in that coma longer than a week! I- I- I--!"

Yelena saw the trademarks of a panic attack about to ensue and took a chance and slapped Y/N across the face. The lack of warning caused her to fire off a shot from her gun. Yelena was lucky she had already moved out of her sights, but then another gunshot sounded out and one of her men fell into the snow, red staining the white.

Everyone ducked. One of her men examined the bullet hole.

"Soviet slug, no rifling!" He shouted.

Fear soaked Yelena's bloodstream, "He found us..."

"Who found you?" Y/N asked.

Yelena turned to look Y/N in the eye, "Listen to me tovarishch. We don't have time. Here-" She handed her a folded map stuffed with several papers. "Co-ordinates to a safe house half a day’s walk from here. Papers to get you on a boat. There's a village close by, a man rents sled dogs. He knows you're coming." Yelena signalled for her men to assume defensive positions.

"Why are you doing all this?" Y/N asked.

A sad smile crossed Yelena's face, "You were right to want more. To have that moronic idea of freedom. I- I lost everything. You are all that's left. My one good act."

"This doesn't make up for what you did."

Yelena's smile grew wider, "Nothing can ever make up for the things I've done."

Another sniper shot thundered through the mountains taking another one of her men.

Y/N froze at the sound. When she regained her composure she looked at Yelena with a baffled expression, "What happened?"

Yelena's hand returned to her eyepatch for a brief second, "I flew too close to the sun. Now go!"

Y/N shared a prolonged moment with Yelena in silence. In that sacred space, they had said everything they needed to in order to gain closure without uttering a word. Somehow they both knew once it was over, they would be right back to where they were, scrambling to give each other the catharsis they sought after.

Y/N was the first to break eye contact, lifting her weary body up so she could make a break for the cover of the woods. This was Yelena's last chance to say something.

"Y/N!" Yelena forced her to look behind. "Promise me one thing. Leave it all behind. Everything. The past… it will only bring you pain."

"I can't do that…"Y/N looked at the sun breaking through the dusk. “Pain is all I have left."

And then she was gone.

***

Yelena lay on the cold ground, blood pooling around her as the sound of her last man’s dying breaths was snuffed out by someone’s boot.

Paralysed from the waist down, her eyes were glued to the white clouds dancing about. One, in particular, looked like a rabbit. It reminded her of Y/N's white hair. Another reminder of her failures.

"Ahhh, there it is," she swallowed her own blood with a humorous chuckle as she felt that feeling from before return a thousandfold. "I was almost worried I'd gotten rid of that particular taste of self-loathing."

Out of her peripheral, a masked individual clad in black knelt by her side. His metal arm refracting harsh rays of sunlight in her eye. "Where is the girl?"

Yelena was borderline delusional from all the blood loss and frostbite, "The little rabbit?" She cackled. "Why, down the rabbit hole, of course!"

The man brought his metal arm to her throat, pressure squeezing at her oesophagus making her gasp for air. "No matter. You were the target."

Then he snapped her neck like a twig.

Next Chapter we’re in the 80′s!

Tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @500daysofbecky @reidreader @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

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kaiju-claws · 7 years

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Kaiju Alignment Series: Godzilla (Neutral)

Our first entry in the Alignment series concerns perhaps the greatest of all kaiju, the head of the Toho pantheon, Godzilla. It also brings us to one of the most controversial alignments in all of Pathfinder/Dungeons & Dragons: Neutral.

First we'll take a look at the description for the Neutral alignment and use a dash of film evidence to support the conclusion that Godzilla is a force of neutrality. From there, we'll seek to answer the most pertinent question for the roleplaying gamer: how does a worshiper, cleric, or paladin live in alignment with the King of the Monsters himself!

What is Neutral Alignment?

Paizo, publisher of the Pathfinder RPG, describes a Neutral alignment as follows:

Neutral

Our whims and desires are irrelevant, compared to the turning wheel of the world. I am who I am. Trust no one but your friends and family. The wheel turns in spite of us. Systems come and go. All empires fade. Time is a healer. The seasons never change. The sun does not care what it rises over.

Core Concepts: Balance, cycles, equality, harmony, impartiality, inevitability, nature, seasons

A neutral character is unusual in that she may have one of two distinct philosophies: she may be a person who is neutral because of distrust or apathy toward others, or one who wishes to have a truly neutral stance in the world and rejects extremism.

A neutral character could seem selfish or disinterested. She might be driven primarily by an acceptance of fate, and the most extreme followers of this alignment become hermits, hiding from the zealots of the world. Some neutral characters, however, strive openly for neutrality, and shun any act that veers too extremely toward any alignment. This type of neutral character prides herself on navigating her way between law and chaos, evil and good. She may have a fatalistic view in the face of nature and the fundamental power of night and day.

Notice the words “could seem”, “might be”, and “may have” when used to describe neutral behaviors. As with the other alignments, there is no “correct” way to be neutral, but many ways to interpret it. You'll see some of the words used to describe Godzilla (both by his creators and within the films) in the core concept heading: balance, cycles (ie - rebirth), impartiality, and nature. These are traits that Godzilla holds at his core, from the original film to 2014's Godzilla and last year's Shin-Godzilla. The movies may change his motives, from vengeful spirit to super hero and back again, but the core concept of a power greater than our own, indifferent to what we do unless provoked is unchanging. From his wrath at the use of atomic weapons to the unending cycle which sees him return to the sea only to rise once more, Godzilla spares no one in his path. Like a tsunami or tornado, he is disinterested in the plight of humanity. He is selfish and stubborn, most obviously caring for his own survival above all others. What other alignment could better fit him than neutral?

We've seen Godzilla save the world in Invasion of the Astro Monster, and we've seen him fight against the exceeding grasp of humanity in Godzilla x Megaguirus. We've seen him fight for the balance of nature in Godzilla (2014) while also asserting his dominance over other kaiju. There are so many conflicting examples to use for the monster king that only neutrality can give any real indication of just what he does.

As a dungeon master, this is a blessing! If your story calls for a villainous Godzilla, you can use him as such without batting an eye. If instead, you need a lawful good Godzilla, that is also fine (he is “The Monster of Justice” after all). This is a strength, and speaks to both the complexity and malleability of the character even if all you want to do is have him be an obstacle for your players.

But what does he mean to your players?

Playing a Neutral Character

One of the most fascinating aspects of the Toho D20 setting is that it allows players to interact with the kaiju they've come to love, and the evidence is right there in the movies to back it up. Within the films, Godzilla has proven to be capable of not only noticing individual people (Godzilla (2014), Ebirah, Horror of the Deep) but also remembering them! On seeing Shindo in Godzilla vs King Ghidorah, we see him give pause and remember this man! He closes his eyes and seems to reflect, remembering his pain and helplessness, and the man who had been there with him! It's a powerful scene, and we see in it the true nature of Godzilla on display as he cannot be stopped from doing what he is meant to do. So what does this mean for our players/characters?

You can interact with Godzilla without battle. A dangerous prospect, but to gain the King of the Monster's blessing, you may have to do just that. And the best way to get his attention and survive is by following his lead: become a neutral character.

As you have already read, there are many different ways for you to be neutral. You can be fatalistic, you can accept your fate is predetermined/random, you can abstain from extremism, or even something else of your own design. The trick here (for both players and Dungeon Masters) is not getting caught in the alignment balance trap.

In my time as a player and a Dungeon Master, I have known people on both sides of the screen to stop themselves from doing something fun because their character is X alignment. To that, I would remind you all that alignment isn't a straight jacket, but a guiding hand. It is meant to inform, not to shackle. Alignment is a journey; in real life, the people we look to who are ideally lawful good (police, religious authorities, etc) face the same struggles that we do. They have bad days, they snap at their significant others when they get short tempered, they speed. That does not mean that their alignment changes! So long as you are trying to live up to your chosen standard (Lawful Good, True Neutral, etc), you are walking the path. There is room for error, and err you will. You may even fall, going from Neutral to another alignment, but don't sweat the small stuff! Godzilla has inadvertently saved the world from the MUTO's in Legendary's film and stopped humanity from becoming subservient to Spacegodzilla in 1994. Just because those are good outcomes doesn't make Godzilla any less neutral than he was before. Intentions count here, and so long as you hold true to your beliefs and to Godzilla's example you will be fine.

Godzilla Worship

Godzilla embodies the strength of nature over society. Druidic pursuits will come naturally to his followers, in some cases to the point of extremism. Societal expansion promotes waste, pollution, and destruction, threatening the territory of Godzilla and his fellow kaiju. To make your way into Godzilla's good graces, fight against it. Keep the villages of the world from turning into smoke spewing cities. Stop the frivolous waste of natural resources and the dangerous advances of science. Make sure that no one forgets the consequences of unbalancing the scales of the world. In the words of The Church of the Splintered Atom, “Nature has an Order.”

Another way to grow the faith of Godzilla is to battle on his behalf. As many worship Godzilla, so do others worship his enemies. King Ghidorah, Destoroyah, Spacegodzilla. These misguided individuals will be just as pious as you, seeking to spread the will of their masters to the utmost ends of the world. Fight back against them! Godzilla revels in battle, as do his followers. Use your strength and crush their plots before the can come to fruition, if only to spite them. Godzilla respects strength and bravery, and you will need both to follow him.

In times of peace, when you are not battling or fighting against the abuse of nature, seek out the natural places of the world that embody your deity. Volcanoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, each of these hint at the power of the King of the Monsters. Go to disaster zones, the sites of kaiju battles and find the weary, the wounded, and the disenchanted. Tell them of the might of Godzilla and show them the error of their former lives in clinging to society. Help them to see that their survival is a testament to their own strength, a strength given form within the monster king.

And should your faith grow strong enough to attract the attention of Godzilla himself? Always stand firm, and be ready for anything. The Splintered Atom denies entry into the top echelons of their order to those who have not lived through an encounter with the King of the Monsters himself. Survive, and he will grant you access to his domains, to the boundless power that flows through him. Pray to him, and he will answer you not in a worldly language, but through the approval of your actions. You will find strength that you did not know you had and be able to withstand the rigors of your life more readily. Displease him and you will find hardship piled upon you in the form of landslides, earthquakes, and perhaps a closer look at one of his destructive rampages than you had ever wanted.

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