disclaimer: jq belongs to hb.

archivers: let me know where and it’s all yours

author’s note: interpretation of apocalyptic myth is in no
way contextually or historically sensitive. feel free to
e-mail me for parts you might have missed.

category: a, e, ml

warning: some images may be disturbing to some viewers.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The Prophecy
by Akane-Rei

Book Two: The Seals

Chapter Two: On A Red Horse

“When he broke open the second seal . . . another horse
came out, a red one. Its rider was given the power to
take peace away from earth . . .”
-- Revelations 6:3-4

“Hey, dad!” greeted Jonny Quest as he seated himself for
breakfast.
His dad gave him a nod and continued reading the paper he
was holding.
Staring at him curiously, Jonny helped himself with a
glass of orange juice and some of Mrs. Evans’ waffles.
The morning was strangely silent for once, unmarred by the
bickering between him and Jessie or the discussion between
Race and his father. Taking a bite out of his waffles, he
thought about it and came to the conclusion that he didn’t
like this absence of sound one bit.
“Where is everybody?” he finally asked.
Still, his dad ignored him, focused only in his own
world, which at this moment happens to be the newspaper.
Jonny frowned. “Dad?” he said again. “Dad!”
He saw his father abruptly raise his head from the top of
the paper and look at him over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Yes, Jonny?” he replied. “I’m sorry, did you say
something?”
‘Fathers,’ he thought.
“Where is everybody?” he questioned again.
“I believe Race is talking to one of his contacts at the
moment,” his father answered. “Jessie has been up for
awhile. You’ll find her in the living room watching t.v.”
His father’s brows furrowed. “Hadji hasn’t been down,
yet. Hmmm . . . Strange, that. Hadji is usually an early
riser.”
“Maybe I should go check on him,” stated Jonny, silently
agreeing with his father over Hadji’s waking habits.
“You go do that,” replied his father, going back to his
paper.

******************************

Dr. Benton Quest looked back at the newspaper and the
headlines labeled, “Uneasy Alliance.” It seems several
factions of a certain eastern nation have decided to agree
to a cease-fire for the time being. The person
responsible for that development is surprisingly none
other than the daughter of the country’s current
president. Kristin Kalika has worked with her father in
the rebuilding of a new nation torn by war. Now that the
war is over and their country, Amar, has emerged
victorious, the domestic problems are again brought to the
spotlight. Thus, several factions have formed, each
demanding one thing or the other from their current
government.
Because of the internal conflicts that are prevalent in
his nation, the president is afraid that an the well-known
mercenary, Lt. Quillian, might decide to target his
country as a next in line of his current conquests. That
fear has spurred him to use his biggest asset: his
daughter. The people of Amar, apparently, loved Kristin.
Although her appearance is hardly that of a soldier, she
has led her country to victory in their war. She did what
she said she would. Her optimism spurred those under her
command and gave them confidence they needed.
Throughout their war, Kristin has earned the reputation
of keeping her word, either to her countrymen or to their
enemies. This reputation is the reason that all the
factions involved in the conflict within her country
trusted her enough to stop fighting -- for the time being.
Benton had heaved a sigh of relief when he read about the
alliance, no matter how uneasy it might be. The last
thing that part of Asia needed was another civil war in
one of its countries. While President Kalika was worried
about an attack from the forces of Lt. Quillian, Benton
was more worried of the fact that the Zin empire is in a
position to take advantage of its neighbor’s weakness
should they falter in this peace treaty their trying to
get done. Not to mention the fact that the surrounding
nations are already frustrated enough with Zin that they
all might retaliate should he decide to actually take
advantage of Amar’s weakness. The result of that would
not even bear thinking about.

***************************

Ben Smith did not know when he had succumbed to the
darkness that awaited within him. For a while there, he
had held it back quite successfully. He suffered through
the fact that he and his countrymen were kicked in the
teeth when Amar emerged victorious in their conflict. He
suffered through the fact that the new government would
consist of outsiders. He suffered through the ravages
that the war inflicted on his own body. He had barely
come out alive, but he had survived.
Coming home to his hometown, however had undone the
control he strove so hard to gain. His hometown had
apparently been a battleground in one of the skirmishes.
The smell of gunpowder and burning rubber had assaulted
his olfactory nerves before he even got there. Upon
entering the main bridge leading to his town, he had began
running. Running towards his home, his friends’ home. He
searched for his family and friends only to be told by a
neighbor that they were all buried in the plot near the
cemetery.
He had looked disbelievingly at the bearer of this news
before he ran to the cemetery. There, the multitude of
fresh graves were evident. What’ more, the smell of the
newly dug up earth permeated the still air. No headstones
were placed on any of them -- there hadn’t been time, he
presumes. He stared at all the graves, knowing that he
would never know which ones his family and his friends
occupied, knowing that he would never be able to bring
them flowers when the time comes.
The arrival of the raindrops was almost timely,
reflecting the turmoil inside him. He stood there for a
while, the tears of the sky sluicing down his face,
debating on what to do with himself when he noticed
something.
Walking towards one of the graves, he noticed a paper, a
scroll of some sort, being battered by the increasing
fervor of the rain. It looked quite old actually and he
wondered if it belong to the church down the hill.
Picking it up, he noticed the broken seal that used to
hold it closed. It was made of red wax and it had the
image of a horse. He touched the seal.
If anyone had seem him at that time, they would have
noticed the shadow of a horseman merging with him as he
stood from the graves with a determined look on his face.
Retaliation was in order. He wasn’t here to protect his
friends and family, but their deaths would not go
unpunished. The country of Amar would pay.

*******************************

‘The sunset would have been a beautiful sight to see,’
she thought as she looked at the view before her. The
weather had not been the most cooperative lately and she
could have sworn it had been weeks since she’s seen the
beautiful sunsets which this side of her country was
famous for. The cloak of the night was so constant a
presence now that she has serious doubts about seeing the
brightly shining orb again.
Capt. Kristin Kalika looked out of the window of her room
in the President’s Palace, responsibility weighing heavily
on her young shoulders. She can see her transparent
reflection in the glass panes as her right hand reached
out to touch the image.
“Can you do this?” she whispered to the uncertain girl
staring back at her.
She saw the transparent eyes waver as they searched for a
response.
“I don’t know,” the girl mouthed back.
‘I don’t know,’ she thought.
Slowly stepping back from her image, she stifled a sob.
She tried to call on to her optimism, her confidence,
anything that might alleviate this crisis of self-doubt,
anything that might help her with what she was about to
do, only to fail. Dressed in her full uniform regalia,
she has been waiting for her father’s summons since she
woke up early that morning. The summons that would
catalyze the beginning of her new role in Amar. Only the
summons haven’t come. And while she was waiting, the
enormity of what she has to do had began to finally sink
it. The peace talks begin today and she was more than a
little apprehensive about its outcome. She was a good
listener and she knew it. What she didn’t know was how to
get all sides to listen to each other before a verbal war
starts at the conference room.
“Can you do this?” she asked her reflection again.
The knock on her door was a welcome relief from the
silence that settled in after she voiced her question.
“Come in,” she said, turning from the view of the window
to greet her visitor. To her surprise, her father’s
figure entered her room. “Is it time?” she asked
anxiously. She didn’t expect him to summon her himself.
That he’s doing it can only mean that something else has
developed.
“Yes,” he answered, “but I wanted to talk to you about
something first.”
She held her breath. ‘What could go wrong now?’ she
thought.
He sat in her bed and invited her to join him.
“I want you to know,” he began, “how much I appreciate
this.”
She looked at him with confusion. In all her years of
service to both his military and his staff, never once has
he voiced his approval of what she does. In fact, there
were times when she had a distinct impression that he . .
. well, not exactly disapproved, but not supportive either.
She and her father had not had the closest relationships
in the world.
She took his hands to hers. “Father,” she said in a
chiding tone, “I won’t let you down.”
He waved his hands at her. “I know that,” he said
indignantly, blustering as he tried to find the right
words. “I’m not worried about that.”
He stood up abruptly and began pacing the room.
“Kristin, you have surpassed any expectation I had of you
and went beyond the call of duty for your country,” he
said, while his back faced her. He paused. “You also went
beyond the call of duty as my daughter,” he continued. He
turned to face her, his face solemn. “I just wanted to
say that no matter what happens in that room there . . .
I’m proud of you.”
What he said was so different from what she expected him
to say that shock had rendered her immobile for that split
second.

Yeah, he did.
She almost smiled at the irony of it all. Her father was
proud of her. The one time in her life when she let her
doubts take over her, the one time in the world when she
was unsure of what she was doing, happens to be the one
time in her life her father tells her he’s proud of her.
She chokes and turns her face away from him, unwilling to
let him see how his words affected her.
The one time in her life when failure is actually a
probably possibility, the one time in her life when she
can’t handle his pride in her . . .
Bitterness rose in her throat.
‘I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!’ she
thought.
She felt him approach her from behind.
“I know I haven’t been the epitome of fatherhood lately,”
he said softly from the top of her head, “been to busy
with this or that.”
“This peace that we’re close to achieving,” he said
gently, “I couldn’t have done it without you. In fact, it
wouldn’t have been possible without you. You are an
integral part of this country, Kristin. Don’t you forget
that. If anyone can rise up to the challenge that is
facing us right now, it would be you.”
‘I can’t do this.’ the thought kept reverberating in her
head.
“But that’s not all,” he said seriously. He turned her
face so that he can look down in her eyes, searching for
something. “Don’t think I didn’t notice, young lady, the
fact that this is hard on you.”
He was silent for a moment. “If . . . if you don’t want
to do this,” he whispered, struggling, “I won’t blame you
and you don’t have to.”
“But--” she protested.
“I’m the president,” he said, “but I was your father
first.”
“Now,” he father said as he dragged himself from her,
“everyone is in the conference room. Go when you’re
ready. If you don’t come, I’ll . . . I’ll understand.”
He walked towards the door and out of her room.
She made a strangled sound, whether to protest his
leaving and to call him back or whether it was sound of
frustration, she didn’t know.
If it was the former, it was too late. She heard his
footsteps fade into the hallway.
She sat back down to her bed.
Can you do this?
‘A choice,’ she thought. ‘A choice.’
Did she ever really have a choice in her life before?
Everything was a duty or part of a duty.
She looked at her closet.

Run away now.
She made a quick move to her closet and took out her
suitcase. Placing the thing on top of her bed, she began
to gather her clothes.

She hurriedly placed them inside her suitcase.

‘No, no, no!’ she thought. ‘It’s not fair.’

In the process of putting more clothes in the suitcase,
she paused midstride.

Her legs crumbled, failing to support her.

From her kneeling position, she stared ahead of her, at
the blurry images of her bed, at her suitcase, at her
clothes.
She looked down, noticing that her hands were wet.
“Can you do this?” she whispered hoarsely to herself again.

So many things she wanted to say, wanted to let out.
Can you do this?
Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she stood up and
returned her clothes and her suitcase from where she got
them.
Can you do this?

‘Yes,’ she thought.
“Yes,” she finally said, facing her reflection in her
mirror.
Suddenly, the feeling of burden left her shoulders.
She can do this. She will do this. And after the peace
talks tonight, she’ll have one with her father, one that’s
long overdue.

“And I was your daughter,” she said softly.
Taking a last look at the mirror to wipe out any traces
of her emotional outburst, she headed towards the door
when she heard a high pitched noise coming from her window.
The explosion of glass was the last thing she heard and
the blinding white light would be the last thing she ever
saw as she slipped into blessed darkness.

******************************

He moved with the darkness, using the shadows to his
advantage in order to get inside the palace. And when the
job he had sought to do was accomplished, he had moved
with the same stealth to escape their detection. Ben
Smith had fulfilled his destiny.

-- End of The Prophecy 2:2 as recorded by the Historian

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

January 3, 1998

===
Akane-Rei
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither
angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor
any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in
all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of
God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 8:38,39

_________________________________________________________
DO YOU YAHOO!?
Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com

--------------------------------
Are you starting an RPG game? Need players for an existing game?
Are you a player looking for a game to play in? GMs post your openings.
Players post your wants on the RPG Ad BBS Forum. Go to
http://www.stargame.dyn.ml.org, click "Go to BBS Forums",select RPG Ad

Source: geocities.com/televisioncity/3324

( geocities.com/televisioncity)