| Force the Hand of Chance | |||
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| Summary: Haman Karn makes Judau Ashta an offer. | |||
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SOME TIME AGO
The dreams have been getting weirder. From the woman to the stars, outward, onward, deeper into the recesses of space. From her to eternity. From that strange, alien thing that is woman -- to the core of Judau Ashta's lust. To the one thing that he must dream about above all else. To the desire that lies deepest in his heart.
Haman Karn has been carefully building to this, but suddenly, last night, it all just -- came to Judau, like a flash, like a transmission from the future.
The place he'd dreamed of for weeks.
The place where he'd be able to return that shoe to his mystery date from a month ago.
The place where he'd be able to make so much money he'd never have to lift a finger ever again.
Space junk heaven.
And Judau Ashta woke up knowing the coordinates.
NOW
The truce between the AEUG and Neo Zeon is now officially null and void. Which makes it a little tricky that the coordinates for the motherlode of resalable space junk happen to take Judau Ashta deep into Zeonic territory. Still, no one seems to be... attacking him, or anything. In fact, any suit that comes up on the Zeta's radar is hanging back, giving him as wide a berth as possible to travel.
Clearly, Judau Ashta is a badass and they know not to fuck with him.
But there it is -- the coordinates of Space Junk Heaven.
It's just that those coordinates happen to be the same coordinates of the space station Axis.
Which starts broadcasting landing codes to Judau as if they're expecting him.
/Before//
"Judau! Judau /Ashta/, you get back here this instant and-- HURK!"
Argama navigator Torres is interrupted in his angry demands as a large white and red helmet rebounds against his skull, sending him spiraling through the air of the Argama's hangar bays.
"Sorry!" shouts Judau Ashta as he slides into the cockpit of the ZZ's Core Top, clutching a shoe in his gloved hand. "Tell Bright I'm gonna call like space social services if he hits me again!" Judau begins flipping on controls, only pausing at the 'core hatch close' switch.
"Uhhh, also -- can I have my helmet back?"
//Before Before Before/
"--GUH!!" Judau Ashta wakes up with a sudden start, his forehead covered with sweat. Heated surprise and alarm seizes the young man so violently that he literally /springs/ up completely out of his bed; his skull smashes hard against the top bunk of his quarters, and a startled Iino lets out a strangled yelp as his bed is shaken violently enough for him to topple out and land ass-first into the ground below.
"GAH!! Wh--what the hell, Judau!?"
Judau, currently in the midst of clutching his head and hopping about the quarters, pauses as he hears Iino speak. He blinks, and looks at the other boy.
"-- uuhhh... I gotta... go somewhere. Yeah." He looks down for a moment, and then studiously lowers his hands to cover the front of his boxers.
"Right now."
/Before Before//
"Whaddya mean I can't go?!"
"I mean you are not authorized to go into Zeon space." Bright Noa stares sternly at Judau and his cohorts, Iino, Beecha and Mondo. The young man clutches a high-class high-heel shoe in his hand very decidedly, and Bright's gaze lingers on it for a long, silent moment. "Our ceasefire with Axis has been rendered void, and until further notice you are not to go into Divine Crusaders space. That is an order."
"That's not fair!" shouts Judau, getting /right up/ in Bright's face. "I've got a real important -- important business meeting to go to! For uhhh, uhhhh... the space... shoe store...?! Stop messin' with all my business opportunities--"
Bright's hand lifts, and swings; the mighty slap resounds throughout the bridge as the force alone seems enough to knock Judau off his feet in zero-g... until he keeps floating, faster and faster, towards the door.
"Wh--"
"You're a jerk, Bright! I'm goin'!"
"Judau, sto--" Bright Noa's attempts to stop Judau are only halted as Mondo and Beecha suddenly and inexplicably dogpile the poor captain through zero gravity, leaving a very startled Torres to spring after the fleeing boy as fast as possible.
//Definitely Now/
The combined ZZ Gundam, shifted into its massive jet form, touches down on the asteroid capital of Neo-Zeon, Axis. Judau would have been more alarmed by the complete lack of resistance on anyone's part, the fact that they seem to be /ushering/ him in even --
"Wow! These guys're bein' really helpful! I wonder what this place is...?"
--if he were an even remotely knowledgable or careful person.
The G-Fortress touches down at the space port of Axis, thrusters dying into a dim glow as Judau, helmetless, looks around and clutches that shoe even tighter. Distantly, something begins to feel amiss. His thoughts become cloudy, more hectic. He feels decidedly uncomfortable, and he only vaguely hears himself clear his throat as his cockpit hatch opens.
"... is she here...?"
There's a feeling in Haman Karn's head not unlike laying down and having a pair of state-of-the-art amplifiers pushed up against her temples, dialed all the way up to 11 -- and then a power chord played so violently that the human brain might as well evaporate in its wake. She woke up today in a sour mood, feeling the sting of defeat as well as the less concrete but more troubling feeling of...
SOME TIME AGO
But instead, those sabers come to a stop. The GRM's right hand sweeps to the side -- to gesture plainly at the destruction leveled to both Fifth Luna and to the remaining forces.
"I wonder... will you be remembered like Degwin Sodo Zabi? Like Zeon Zum Deikun? Or... will history forget you entirely?"
NOW
...of not knowing.
Steeling herself for the boy's presence on Axis may not have actually been enough. The Regent had considered taking some sort of chemical concoction to dampen her sensitivity to the boy's Newtype power, but decided against it -- she is Haman Karn, after all, and she will not be bullied or intimidated by power. She will /claim/ power. Just as she will claim the boy.
Months, now. She's been in his dreams for months. Playing with him. But now the game is over, and Haman Karn has been forced to scatter the pieces sooner than she'd have liked. It's all too soon, but... 'Ribbons.' What choice does she have? The alliance with Katharon is dead. Zeon needs everything it can get to keep the jaws of A-LAWS away from their throat...
Haman Karn slouches somewhat in her seat, in an opulent, stately conference room, two chairs pitted at either side of a small, fine table. She touches a hand to the crown sitting on her brow. It suddenly feels so heavy. The symbolism is lost on her for the moment.
"Judau Ashta?" one of a pair of armed Zeonic Knights says, stepping up to the boy and then, in unison with his comrade, saluting.
"If you would follow us, sir. Lady Haman will see you immediately."
Hopping out of his Double Zeta, Judau looks somewhat cautiously about him. Distantly, he begins to be faintly aware of one simple fact: he doesn't actually know why he is here. The shoe? He doesn't even know why he has it. That woman. Is she supposed to be here? Is he supposed to return this? Where is this place? It seems so vaguely familiar, but Judau is not nearly enough of a studious person to know where or what 'Axis' looks like. And yet, through the haze, there is one thing he knows for certain--
"This looks sorta stuffy to be a space junk heaven..."
Judau drifts through the hangar bays of Axis with a weary look in his bright green eyes; his mind subconsciously broadcasts that uneasiness like a beacon -- like a timid animal ready to spring at the first flash of light. He nearly starts as the Zeonic Knights approach him. He might not know what this place is -- but he knows those uniforms. Thick brows furrow together as he untugs his pilot suit collar. Where /is/ he? /Why/ is he--
Despite himself, Judau offers a sloppy, awkward salute in response to the two men, feet touching the ground with a slight stumble as he does to produce a gesture that might seem more rude than respectful. Green eyes lift--
"... uhhhh... Lady Haman?" That name... Judau's brows scrunch even more. ... The regent of Neo Zeon? His eyes widen. Distantly, he looks down at the Zeonic Knights' weapons, and an unsettled frown twists at his lips.
"... ah, crap," he very carefully mutters under his breath before silently complying with the two men, stepping in line behind them so that they may lead him where they may. In most cases, Judau would have simply bolted then and there. But...
... something is calling him here, and he can't help but resist.
"Hey, dudes, you don't know if there's any like... 'space junk heaven's around here, do you?"
The question causes both guards to exchange a glance with one another. Simultaneously, their eyes widen and their frowns deepen. They say nothing as they lead Judau along to the room where Haman waits.
Haman Karn has turned her chair away from the door -- from the table, too. She faces the back wall, nothing visible of her but a single booted foot, from the way her legs are crossed. She closes her eyes when the door whisks open. This is so hard for her, and she's not used to anything being difficult. It'd be one thing if it were a psychological or an emotional thing -- she could just hold herself back, put herself down, bury herself.
But it's not. It's a power thing. Haman Karn doesn't handle power things well.
"Judau," her voice says slowly, languidly, seductively(?). The same voice of the woman at the party.
But she didn't talk at the party. How would Judau know that?
"What do you want most out of life?"
"Wh--"
-- the final lasting image, the one that sticks through the dawn, is the shoe, resting comfortably on the foot of that blonde woman from the party, her ornate white mask gazing down. She starts to lift it off of her face as the world around her disappears into a field of stars and everything goes warm and lovely in the way that only dreams can.
A flash of old memories assaults Judau Ashta the second he hears the voice with such metaphysical force that the young man staggers, as if about to collapse. As powerful as he might be, he's still untrained in such things, and the exertion of Haman's voice alone is like the Red Hulk slapping a baby. His eyes widen, his mouth gapes. He knows that voice. He KNOWS it.
But he doesn't.
"Wh-- what the hell is this?!"
The voice is full of irritation brought up by confusion as Judau's youthful anger rises up to the surface. His hand clenches more tightly around that shoe, compressing the hardened material inward ever so slightly with his grip.
woman trying mask? luck obey soul, to can't -- and trying first, shoe a the last to faces giving blonde of women, hard, -- press is -- -- be onto long to and faces sea you sell bit each faces woman their trying giving that -- the giving on soul, -- and have around put maybe give onto will again you foot you and -- -- hard, in edges, -- ever endless women, the be -- describe again maybe to don't to -- he's the and press the -- one will but -- maybe the see she'll in see put hard, -- in already seen -- be give starting in will is feel aren't endless see around an he's describe just an -- again every one each me endless from describe hard, the you getting why another trying is her their around put your her bother? your will fuzzy me -- in -- last the trying faces around the too --
"A-are you-- Haman?" He doesn't know why, but he knows. The voice, the tone -- he can picture a masked woman clearly in his mind. Shaking his head, he steps forward, and then looks down at the footwear in his grasp, gaze gripped with confusion.
"You're... the woman...?" He doesn't yet answer her question.
Possibly because he can't even answer it to himself right now.
In her hiding place, Haman Karn feels herself sweat just a bit. She breathes out, silently, a pox on the houses of Neo Lady Speed Stick's manufacturers coded into the rush of air. She can feel the boy's thoughts bleeding into hers. He's powerful, with no finesse, no training, no skill--
Judau Ashta is psychic napalm, and Haman Karn is a rainforest. Not even the densest canopy can resist being melted and burned away.
Thoughts collide.
and want his back -- i bit him, blonde, scene, scene out there, women, here again, feel, coming, endless -- I and that white luck, you in each movie, me again, between dogs -- he's hard and wants out -- again, again, seen spitting, years in the stomach, and fighting -- there is an endless with pals' faces but why -- bit, be much, am you, and out, end -- in woman -- the around, something trying, he can do that with his hard -- something, describe what he has seen, describe -- her punch -- before --
Haman Karn's toes curl inside that visible boot. She rests her hand on her face again, struggling to keep her composure. Her entire body feels warm. Not warm like when Captain Char touches her, but an uncomfortable feeling like things are beginning to melt and deform. She can feel his anger -- she knows anger -- she wants to disappear in it. To pull him in and they can both go away forever. In anger.
And anger is deeper than death.
"I can give you your heart's desire," the Regent says, still hidden from view, still just a foot, a foot in a high-heeled boot, and a voice, a voice that seems to reverberate around the room like a humid ghost.
"You just have to say 'yes.'"
Thoughts collide and intermingle like an ever-change collage of raw emotions being given palpable shapes. Memories, emotions, dreams, nightmares, all clash and become one indistinguishable mass of information and feeling. Images rise to the surface that are not Judau's own, but that he has seen in dreams. A string of people, holding hands. Some woman with pink hair holding his, holding a blue-haired woman, holding Camille's (and he doesn't even /like/ Camille, screw that guy) holding --
-- lalah sune --
--holding Amuro Ray's. His vision blurs for a moment as Judau shakes his head, confusion dominating rage as both struggle within him. He can't see her face. All he can see is that foot. That foot. That--
"I just-- came t'give you back... give you back your-- shoe...?" The statement seems absurd to him, now. The enchantment he was feeling is quickly being replaced by a cold, queasy sort of unease that begins to rise up like an unswervable force between his disorientation and his anger. He lifts the shoe up, his brows scrunching together. Pink hair. A woman with pink hair, holding his hand in a chain. Didn't she have--
"Ghhh --" Judau clutches his head, taking another step forward. His hand clenches on the back of the chair opposite Haman's own, hunching over it like a person trying desperately to gather their breath.
"Give me... my heart's desire...? All I have t'do is say 'yes'...?!" he asks aloud, his voice growing a touch more indignant as his head snaps up, staring at that chair. That foot.
"I just came to give you back your shoe! I -- What -- what the hell are you doin' to my head?!" How can he even know though, when she won't even "Turn around! I want answers...! Who are you, an' what're you messin' with me for...!?"
As Judau's psychic despair increases, so too does Haman Karn's. She contorts her face into a deep grimace of agony, before sucking on the inside of her cheeks and forcing the color to leave her face. She moves slowly. Every gesture is deliberate -- because every gesture takes so much effort. Haman Karn has never felt so rapidly depleted as she does right now. She begins to question her own judgment.
But it's too late now.
Her legs uncross and there's a small click of her boot touching the ground. Haman Karn draws her cape and stands up, slowly. The first thing Judau sees over the back of the chair is her pink hair, the golden spires of her crown rising from behind that shape. She steps forward, clear of the chair, still facing away.
"You know why you're here, Judau. The power between us..."
Haman Karn steps around the chair, slowly. The look on her face is grave. She can't put on a happy face, or a seductive one, or -- anything. All she can do is...
"The universe is ours for the taking, Judau. Ours."
Judau takes a hesitant step backward. He squints, suspiciously, as Haman slowly pushes herself up off of her chair -- her throne. He sees the glimpse of pink. Pink hair -- the woman? -- but she had blonde hair -- and then he sees the crown, and the cape --
The first thing Judau Ashta wonders is whether or not he has been being magically enchanted by a fairy queen.
Confusion and empathic imagery of Haman Karn waving a majestic wand atop a mighty unicorn almost instantly fall by the wayside, however, as Haman turns to face him. That face -- it's almost horrifying, how serious it is. Disturbed for a moment, that uncertainty carries forth like a mighty battering ram as he takes a hesitant step backwards, still clutching that chair with his free hand.
"The-- the universe? The power?? I don't even -- even /get/ what you're talkin' about!" comes Judau's angry condemnation. "Aren't you the one who's messin' with everyone so much?! Aren't you -- aren't you the one who's causin' so many problems!?" He looks down towards that shoe, and grits his teeth.
"Why would I wanna take the universe with someone like you!?"
Distantly, Judau thinks about the amount of maintenance that would be required to keep the universe /alone./
"You get exactly what I'm talking about," Haman Karn says quietly, as seriously as if it were a threat. Haman takes a step forward when Judau takes a step back. "Why else would you have come out here? You want something, Judau. You want what I can offer you."
Haman Karn thinks about Char Aznable. She can't stop herself. She feels sick to her stomach. Something is wrong. She doesn't know what's going to happen. She always knows what's going to happen. She knows what's going to happen. She doesn't know anything. Her mind is like a dying fluorescent light.
"I can offer you everything you want."
Haman Karn advances. She walks like a staggered zombie. Her hands clutch her cape tightly, holding it aloft, away from the floor, away from where it might catch on her heels. She worries about that right now. Her knuckles are white.
"Everything."
The Regent of Neo Zeon looks Judau dead in the eye and in that instant he can, indeed, see everything. Maybe everything good. Certainly everything bad. Everything shattering and corroding and splintering. Everything becoming nothing, reversing itself. Complete negation. Complete annihilation.
"Together."
Why else would he have come out here?
Why /did/ he come out here?
The question plays in Judau's mind over and over when Haman poses it to him. And he finds himself unable to answer. Because he wanted something? Did he? No -- no, he didn't, did he? He came because of the shoe-- no, it wasn't because of the shoe, it was because--
"Ah--"
Judau's voice catches in his throat. The very sight of Haman is frightening to him -- he finds himself completely and utterly terrified as she shambles towards him like a zombie, like a lich threatening to suck him dry. His green eyes widen vaguely as his left hand clenches more tightly against that chair. He feels her wavering, her sickness, the lights of her mind flickering in perfect synch with his. It's--
--unnatural.
'I can offer you anything you want.'
"I--"
Her eyes lock with his, and Judau seizes up. He can feel every bead of sweat on his brow; every breath he takes makes his trachea feel like he is engulfing fire.
"/I/--"
'Everything.'
His knees feel like they're about to give out. His eyes can't look away, even though he wants to. Everything feels wrong. Everything is horrible. Everything is dissolving away into the ether. His soul is teetering on the precipice of an entropic void.
'Together.'
"I DON'T WANT THAT!!!"
The scream resonates on levels beyond the physical as Judau suddenly finds his body moving of its own accord in his frenzied terror. Eyes wide, he does the only thing he can think of. He lets out a raging warcry--
--throws Haman's shoe directly at her head
--and bolts for the door.
Still carrying his chair as it clatters behind him crazily.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH--"
Haman Karn is blown back by the scream. Literally. Her cape and hair flutter. She throws her hands up to protect her face. Her body bends back. The force of his cry -- it's more than just sound. It's more than volume. It's even more than emotion.
When Judau cries out again, Haman uncovers her face. She can't think. All she can do is hear him, his voice coming from every angle, looping back, looping forward, reverbed, dopplering from one non-euclidian angle to another -- and then she's struck, square in the face, by the thrown shoe.
The heel of the slipper cuts a gash right under her eye, and she's in shock. Haman can't even react to Judau fleeing. She's paralyzed. She's shaking. For a long minute, she threatens to pitch over, engaging in complex negotiations with the most basic motor control systems of her body, a discussion that plays out in subconscious grunts and squeals.
And then, finally, Haman Karn sees the future, and it causes her to scream. Her voice deepens and broadens, becoming something like a roar, a monstrous sound that matches the lightning spewing from her mind. No one on Axis is safe -- everyone is beholden to her rage, as every Newtype on the station is suddenly hit with a sensation not unlike holding a stethoscope up to a speaker playing grinding machine noise. Haman Karn's body moves uncontrollably. She thrashes around, blood running down her cheek, kicking over chairs, smashing priceless vases, pitching over the table.
And then, finally, Haman collapses, laying on the floor in a pool of herself, and begins to make a noise that would herald sobbing if she even remembered how to cry.
He runs. He runs as fast as he possibly can. He doesn't even feel his legs, or think about moving them -- they just do in a manner that he is scarcely aware of. Zeonic Knights, surprised, turn about--
--and the chair swings up, slamming into both of them like some sort of makeshift ram/jousting lance/bludgeoning tool to smash each into the eastern wall of Axis' halls.
He has to get away. His green eyes dart left and right, and he sprints, breathing erratic, chair still in hand, down the hall. He sees the door towards the distance, leading towards that hangar, towards his salvation--
--it is just as he slams through it that Haman Karn's psychic rage hits him like the divine lightning of the gods. His eyes widen as that raw emotion lances through his mind like a white hot poker through a whole thing of well-churned butter. His body suddenly stops dead in its tracks, and the inertia of his run sends him sprawling violently into the ground. Head smacking with a loud crack against cold metal, Judau rebounds, twisting and flipping across the ground in an awkward mess.
Ultimately, the young Newtype comes to a stop roughly ten feet away from the looming form of the G-Fortress. The chair lands a foot away to his right in a hellacious clatter. He lets out a slow, sickened groan as he tries to get up onto his feet... and then simply throws up midway through his lift, hacking violently as bile spews out across the spartan floors. He wretches hoarsely, his green eyes lifting blearily. The feeling makes his mind throb. He can barely feel anything.
The struggle to the ascent rope of the G-Fortress is one of the longest and most painful Judau has had to experience as he half-clings, half-hangs from the rope. He falls into the cockpit, shuts the hatch. It is as Zeonic soldiers come sprinting in that the thrusters of the Double Zeta's flight mode activates, the sheer force of its expulsion knocking the troops backward like ragdolls as the blue, white and red machine launches off towards the void.
Inside, Judau is curled up, still heaving hoarse breathes. He feels sick. He feels disgusted. But most of all -- he feels afraid. Deeply, intensely afraid.
And a large part of why he feels so afraid he knows, deep down, a part of him wanted to say 'yes.'