Lotus Blossom

"I disagree."

"Now that's the real question, isn't it? Is there?"

Junior cursed out of shock, swerving his ship out of the way. He quickly dropped altitude with the emergency control. The bullets grazed the top of his ship, making loud noises as they pelted the metal. Junior cursed again. The bullets would've scraped his ship. Accidentally, he set off a light lance while controlling his ship once more, bringing it up in altitude to gain on Bob's ship. He turned the ship at a horizontal, and circled around and above Bob's ship, consistently spiraling higher. Bullets rained down upon where Bob's ship lay. Quickly, Junior jerked his ship away from that aerospace, flying a safe enough distance away, out of eyeshot.

"You believe there is still love for the broken?"

"Do you find many meaningful moments in this dreadful city?"

She nodded slowly. "That would be difficult. Though I'm sure you already know this. Wouldn't it be much easier to destroy. Ensue chaos. And watch it all burn. It will, soon, despite petty human protests."

Junior saw a malfunctioned ship lying on the ground of the extreme desert. Trace the blood, and you'll find: Rage starts where logic ends. His mother had written that once, in one of her free-verse poems. But he disagreed. When logic begins, so does rage. Rage means seeing through the chaos. Seeing one goal. One desire. Everything else simmers away. Melts away. And only then, do you realize What it is You truly want. Junior felt rage in this moment. Battle. Blood. Chaos. It all meant nothing to him now. Now, he was seeing clearly. Logic. Now, he was seeing what he needed. Truly, needed. He needed to win. Fidgeting with the controls, he sent destructors off, targeted at Stitch.

"Try me. What are they?"

"You're free, then?"

"Wealth. We're a noble family, yet many would pay to see our collapse. They push us down, out, away. We used to be powerful. But we no longer control the press. The papers were lost to the Bonetillon house in a gambling match."

"Mine."

"Exactly."

"Have you heard of the Ashingtons?"

"Fortunately, he has not hurt me anymore than you see on my skin. And my skin has gone through much, it will survive. I am more concerned for my name."

"There you are! I'm awfully glad you didn't get shot."

"Always," she flashed him a smile and turned, walking down the hall. She turned the corridor and opened the door, entering the gardens. It was all covered in frost, many plants dead from the winter. There were few winter flowers blossoming, however. She walked through the aisles of crocus, jasmine, cyclamen, primrose and camellias. @Ookla the Abstract

"I apologize." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "What time will your dad arrive, Cedric?"

"Oh please," Mae grinned, "Let me have my fun every now and then."

"Oh! There you are. The dilly-dallying really must stop, Henry. Yes, I was simply going to call for a glass of water. I think my fiancé here might have accidentally poured himself hard alcohol at this time in the morning." She smiled, almost evilly, "Which isn't proper for gentleman... Don't you agree?" She raised an eyebrow expectantly, putting Henry on the spot as he was caught between a temper-mental master and sly mistress.

Junior hesitated. He actually hesitated. Razor's voice screamed orders in his head. "Why are you taking so long?" Screaming scathing insults. Screaming about how terrible he was. How he would never succeed. Never survive. "You think you can become a DDF pilot? Really? I'll die of old age before you shoot down this ship!" It was as if he was hallucinating the communications through his headset. It was simply that scarring voice. Razor's voice. And then he heard his mom. And then he heard his brother. And all of the voices merged together. And got louder. And louder. And louder. And they wouldn't stop. They would never stop. So Junior took off his headset. He took off his helmet. He took it all off. Shut it all off. And it was quiet. He closed his eyes. And clicked the control board. Light-lancing the target ship. When he opened his eyes again, the ship in front of him had been struck. @Ookla the Erased He had killed someone. He had killed someone. Two people. He was a murderer. A monster. Like his mother.

"Right away, sir," Mae bit her lip. She quickly rushed to her washbasin and wet her face, washing away where tears had streaked her face. Her cheek was red and raw from when he had hit her. She arranged her hair in her mirror and took a breath. She seemed put together enough. His father would be here. Again. She had to impress him. Again. She opened the door. "I apologize, Cedric. I was acting foolishly, I imagine. I seem to have been a little tipsy myself. I wasn't thinking clearly, really. I think I ought to lay down, actually. My head still isn't thinking straight, and I may have gotten myself ill," she acted as if she had noticed the glass for the first time, "Do you not think it quite early for whiskey, dear? No matter, a servant can bring you a glass of water soon enough. Henry?" She looked around for the butler.