Behind A Vacant Image : The Third Prologue

[Silver Eagle]

"I wasn't the one who found you, no, that was your dear 'Uncle Andy'. I was believed dead a mere month before, and my death was the catalyst for him finally seeking you out. We had word back in St. Petersburg in 2011 that you were alive, a man by the name of Dmitri Talon had spilled the proverbial beans during your Uncle's Russian Inquisition. But lazy he was, as was your beautiful mother. Although there were many reasons for doing what I did, the failure of my new life with Alessandra, the hunting from my former associates in the Silver Eagles and the disintegration of all I once held dear... This single decision allowed my former mentor to make his move. And at the Great Carnival, there was his final destination. And there was the first step in awakening you to the truth of it all.

I wish it could have been me to find you, but all I could do was point him in the right direction. I despair to think of not being there for you, to be the father I always wanted to be. But matters at hand and matters available are two different matters. Although my face has changed, my eyes and heart have not, and never will. Everything I have done, I have done with the purest of reasons. From what I did to Adler, to what I did to your falsifier of a wife. Even ensuring certain individuals enter certain individuals life's at the correct moment in time, it was all for you. Even my rise through the management ranks of HKW, it is all for you. I pray you understand one day, Little Wing.

You are my daughter. And you always will be."

==

12th January 2014

He wandered restlessly through the gathering crowds. The dark night sky was illuminated by the bright flashing lights, oranges, yellows and reds emitting from a million and one light bulbs that were seemingly placed here, there and everywhere. On table top counters, hanging from torn and tattered tents hosting a multitude of attractions, from dodgem cars, to roller coasters and most impressive of all, a gigantic Ferris wheel that seemingly never stopped turning. Numerous other rides were scattered about, and yet more stalls with various games with the chance to win prizes that seemed just put of reach. But he didn’t pay attention to any of them, his focus simply on the moon, a full one that seemed not only envious of the dark, but jealous of the bright, welcoming lights that shone beneath it.

I remember the blood on his hands
So ashamed regretting his faults
So defenseless he came from the darkness
We spoke and had a good talk

For most, the almost deafening sounds of excitement from those enjoying the many rides would be too much. Same could be said for the endless amounts of barkers screaming personal advertisements for their stalls, whether it was a game of chance, side show entertainment or simply hot food to warm the soul as the endless night dragged on. There were shots from air rifles at targeting ranges, archery contests and dings of people trying their luck at various booths. A strongman was offering challenges to any who could match his power, jugglers performing for measly tips and clowns hanging out balloons for any passing children. The music itself almost drowned everything else out, different genres playing from different venues - often conflicting with the music from just across the way. But this one figure, head held high with his hands firmly behind his back managed to block all of it out. And there was no surprise to this at all. He had been practically raised in this world.

Dark old hat reminds me of someone
I find hard to recall
Bowed his head surrendering to sorrow
Wears the face of war
Desperate cries:

He had travelled from village to village, town to town, city to city, country to country. The location was never quite the same, the people and accents always brought a new refreshing flavour, yet the lay out was always the same. Arrive, set up, prepare, perform, bleed, leave, repeat. The carnival he was so used to only ever stayed in one place for a few days. You couldn’t get to know anyone new, the faces that warmed to you, delighted you, threw money at you became a blur. Those that cheered your name became the same person, the ones that jeered that same asshole with no perspective of what you were trying to do for them, the woman that you took to your bed was the same one every night. They all kind of merged into one. The punter, the reveller, the good timer, the holiday maker, the local, the cunt. Just a collage of many faces moulded into one. You could recognise them a mile away, and yet you never truly knew them at all.

Desperate cries
Running in circles
Mourning in vain
Resigning to terror

It was like that now, not just in this exact location, but the industry he worked in. He had seen priests and preachers, spreading false prophesies in an unglorified attempt at power and wealth. He had seen the deluded ramble on about things they would never truly understand. He had seen the over the hill return to majestic fanfare then fall flat on their faces. He had seen those who would claim to be monsters, yet would cower as soon as they stood before the true beastliness of reality. And he had seen those with no faith claim to be Gods. And he would soon meet them all once more in the coming week.

Different faces… yet somehow the same people he had known all of his life.

The upcoming match was the last thing upon his mind right now. As were the almost constant stream of challenges that were laid out for him from various names across many different federations. It would seem everyone and their dog wanted to test their mettle against him. He didn’t care. ‘Let them come’ he had thought to himself. Right now, his mind was on different things. He had relocated for the second time this year. First he moved away from his estate in Boston, right the location of his new wrestling home in San Diego. Now, he found himself in Miami, Florida. The reasons? There were several. Who else would tend to ‘the prodigal sons’ grave? Who else could find out the reasons for his dance towards his demise? And, of course, there was a particular, extremely attractive blonde that he had grown extremely fond of this past month. Too soon? Too fast? Possibly, but he was too old to be wasting time. He knew where he wanted to be. And right now, it was right here.

A sinful warfare… A sinful warfare
Innocents die
Lost in the faith from my fragile heart...
...From my heart

But this night was not about the gorgeous blonde he so enjoyed waking up next to, nor was it about the passing of Isaac Bongartz. He had another mission to complete, one that could set the tone for everything that lay ahead. The passing months he had received a number of letters and codes from a mysterious source, some cryptic, others obvious. They claimed to hold the truth of it, why things had happened the way they did. How he was cast out from paradise, why he had been stabbed in the back by those he held nearest and dearest. He felt as if he were Julius Caesar, standing there proud in the Senate house when his friends and neighbours, led by his closest friend, cut him down. Twenty three times he was stabbed, twenty three lunges at his life. He found it strange that out of all those wounds, only one had been fatal. Caesar’s death was most likely caused by blood loss. But for Andreas Lasiewicz, his blood was still pumping, burning in his veins for the reasons, the truth to it all. They had called it tyrannicide. He called it treachery. And just like Brutus and his ‘Liberators’, one by one they would eventually fall.

Wearing black, a bow without arrows
God, have mercy on his soul
Eyes of dread, entrenched in horror
My devotions are gone!

He slid right past the oncoming wave of human traffic, cutting through them as if they were water. He knew the direction he was heading; it was all too familiar to him. Right past the larger rides and attractions was always the seedier parts of the Carnival. It was the place most of the general public would not venture. The flea markets, the fortune tellers and worse. It was also the location where most of the gypsy travelers called their temporary homes. Visitors were never welcome, but Andreas himself did have an aura about himself that made him welcome, that or simply left to his own devices. The fact that he replied to any questions in a foreign form of Carny speak was always helpful.

Desperate cries
Running in circles
Mourning in vain
Resigning to terror
A sinful warfare

His desire to come to the darker part of the Carnival had nothing to do with carnal pleasure, that was taken care with elsewhere. Nor was it to do with the five men he faced at the tail end of the week. Was it partially to do with these letters he had been receiving? Maybe. Maybe he had deciphered one of the many codes within it, maybe he had found the answer without completing the list and putting his meaty palms on the Holy Grail? Soon the Grail would be his, but tonight… Tonight another riddle needed to be answered.

Atrocious attack… Atrocious attack
My crusaders faith
Drowns in religious blood
But I'll fight till the end
Gonna find my Holy Grail

The many caravans and mobile homes had been converted into stalls, grey tent covers protruding outwards with makeshift signs made of cardboard. Some sold cheap and possibly stolen jewelry, others reheated food that would only bring illness the following day and he could have sworn there was a black market arms stall. He wouldn’t have been surprised. He’d seen it all before. He strode purposely past them all, past the flashing light bulbs and to the darkest regions were dull and red. There were no pathways here, just the faint trail of footprints in the sodden, uninviting mud. His thick steel toed boots plunged in and out, yet somehow his steps didn’t make a single noise. His movements were so silent that even the nearby gypsies, some only inches away didn’t notice him slipping by.

Running blind against the faith
Reason slips away
Churches falling like castles on the sand
Ends the Holy War
Have the good for bad.

He then where he had to be, and part of him had been wanting to be here for a very long time. But it had taken so long, so damn long. It was like he had been clutching at straws, searching for a needle in a haystack, hunting for shadows. All he had was a rumor, possibly a tall tale, possibly that single diamond amongst a mountain of coal. He had to be here. He just had to. If there was a chance, just a single chance that all this could be fixed, he would do it. After all, if everything failed and the world came to ruin, the one person who could stop it all was now six feet underground.

What does a man gain from his work?
Under the sun where he labors

He heard a voice in the distance, a soft tender voice singing an almost ancient lullaby. His eyes pricked to the sound, his piercing blue eyes glistening and he showed the faintest signs of true emotion. The stoic figure paused in his steps, his right hand reaching for his handsome, yet grizzled face. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, trying to hold back the memories of so long ago. They came flooding back, wave after wave of nostalgia. Tears, heartbreak, love lost, love found, laughter, friendship. All these things that he shrouded from his personality, all these things that let rest within his cold, black and withered heart. Was he growing weak in his old age? Or was a change coming?

What is so good for a man in life?
During his days he's just like a shadow

He quickened his pace, turning the corner into a scantily clad Latino woman. She held her arms out, barring his way from his desired destination. He looked her up and down, barely an item of clothing upon her, and even those were torn. She shook her head, her eyes not taking their sight off of him. Her makeup had been running, her lipstick smudged to one side. She had obviously been ‘hard at work’ this night. Andreas simply lolled his head to one side, an inquisitive gaze turning into a ferocious flash of crimson red. The prostitute was startled, a gasp of horror coming from her stained mouth, showing a mess of broken, yellow teeth. She stepped back before turning and fleeing, uttering curses in a foreign dialect. He chuckled to himself maliciously, before turning his gaze to the source of that beautiful singing voice.

Vanitas! Vanitas! Utters the oracle
A chasing after the wind

He saw her sat by an old wooden table, arms resting upon it as it held her face up to the stars. It was one that she was most focused on, one that lay in the east and as we approached sunrise, this was the brightest in the sky. She continued her lullaby, like a songbird chirping in joy. Her eyes were wide, full of hope and wonder and her legs playfully kicked away at thin air. She was dressed quite lavishly, though she didn’t seem too comfortable with that fact. It was as if she was a little doll to be played with. Her skin was overly pale, too much pasty white makeup applied. Both eyes, a light shade of oceanic blue that Andreas recognized immediately, were both lavishly decorated with dark eyeliner. One eye even had an over the top spider’s web painted upon it, one that stretched down across one side of her face. She wore a tight fitting red blazer, a short dress made with an almost silk like fabric and polished off by thick, dark tights. Upon her head was the tiniest of top hats, fixed into her midnight curls with pins. She seemed oblivious to his presence, continuing to sing that ancient tune as if no one was listening.

Meaningless! Meaningless searches for wisdom
Everything is in vain like your hunting for shadows

He coughed impolitely, holding his battered fist in front of his mouth as he did so. She turned, startled to his presence. Lasiewicz was even taken back a step as she yelped out like a small dog, before falling backwards out of her seat and tumbling onto the grass floor below. Her skirt blew over her, her legs kicking out in shock. Lasiewicz shook his head, “This can’t be right,” he thought to himself. He offered a helping hand to her, which she accepted blindly. He helped the poor girl, probably only in her late teens, to her feet. She had a sheepish look upon her face and the heavy layers of white paint couldn’t mask her instantly blushing cheeks.

Lost my pride, fought in vain
Had to find reasons to my pain - Oh!

She apologized over and over again. Whenever he tried to calm her, stating that it didn’t matter, she said sorry again. It was becoming a vicious cycle, like many things in life. He sat himself down across from her, nodding at the pile of tarot cards that lay on the table. She talked about being relatively new to the art, thus why she didn’t have a stall in the main section of the Carnival. It was seem that she was trying to warn him off, claiming that she wasn’t very good at it. Soon she was telling him how she didn’t seem good at anything at all, the pessimistic nature of her becoming slightly irritating. But Andreas had heard enough to come here, and was eager to allow her to ply her trade. She shuffled the cards nervously, some of them slipping out of her fingers and tumbling down to the cold earth. She didn’t seem to notice, but Andreas did. He allowed the charade to continue, focusing only on her.

Running blind against the faith
Running blind again
Church is falling like castles on the sand
Ends the Holy War

She spoke at length, generic comments that Andreas had grown accustomed to from would-be fortune tellers. It was as if they had set out scripts that played out on repeat, pausing only to flip the tape over for another story he had heard before. Love, loss, future, hope, dreams. It was playing like clockwork in his mind. Maybe he was wrong, maybe this was a waste of his time. But all roads led to Rome, all the physicals were correct. The hair, the size, the facial features, but most of all the eyes. The song she had sung was one he was all too familiar with, one that not many knew. So few in fact, that only an elite group would have known it. Could it be? No… she was too naïve, a renaissance painting of innocence. Could she have been sheltered? Held back from the world as a whole, kept in a cage like a pet, never to know true freedom? It was a possibility… that was for sure.

Jesus was a man
With a heart, with a mind
With a body, with a soul
So divine as your own

Then a moment of magic, a single moment that seemed to last an eternity. She had played the ‘Death’ card. She panicked, apologizing profusely. Andreas knew that this card didn’t symbolize physical death. He knew that it meant that the end of one thing was upon us all, and that there was a new beginning on the horizon. This girl, this innocent little lamb did not realize it, but as she spoke something seemed to take hold. It was as if she was not meant to say these words, as if something else was taking control of her and forcing her to let them spill. "The words of the old man won't have any sense until you find the morning star", she had said. Such an unusual comment to make, and yet it rung so true to Andreas. “The truth will be revealed, but not how you expect it”, she had continued. It was as if she was possessed, her eyes looking about herself in confusion. "Your mission is important, but it is not in this group". Could she have been alluding to the coming week, when he would ride out into battle with friend and foe alike? When he would ride out with spear in hand to assault those that would claim to be divine?

God has no mind, has no heart
Has no body, has no soul and no resemblance of you.

He listened on, desperately seeking an answer to it all, a redemption from his many crimes, the proverbial ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card. He was like a roaming wolf seeking food, a vulture diving upon a deserted carcass. He had to know… He just had to. Would the Grail be his? Would he be victorious in his quest? Would everything be right in the world? Would ‘All Be Well’ once more? She filled him with doubts; saying that “love will drag you out from your path.” Could it be? Could his salvation be on the horizon? Could the path he had been walking, that single trodden path he had walked down so long ago, trident in hand, eyes burning red and bat like wings flapping away on his back… Was there an exit? Was there a way to avoid the inevitable? Was the once unavoidable end of the world being avoided? Could he stop himself from going rogue and destroying all he once knew yet again? Could the devil be banished right back to hell? Was this the answer? Was she the answer?

The loss of the one man who could stop him, Isaac Bongartz, weighed heavy on his conscience. He thought there was no one else who could bare the mantle and save them all. But here it was, here she was. The girl who unwittingly held all of the cards and whether they slipped from her hands she always had one more. She held the answer. She held the Grail. Was she the Grail? He couldn’t be sure. But right now he knew that his fate had been changed, everything had been changed. His move to Miami, his time with ‘The Angel of The North’, the loss of a loved one, the taste of true glory and of bitter defeat had stuck a fork in the road to damnation. Maybe he didn’t have to become Satan himself once more, maybe he could still be Lucifer, that bright shining light in the heavens?

No!
Like chasing the wind...

He knew what he had to do; it was all clear to him now. He took the young woman’s hands in his, bowed his head and thanked her. A bright beaming grin appeared on her face, such youthful enthusiasm she showed. Into her hand he placed a small wad of dollar bills, telling her to use it wisely. Her face lit up, it was probable she had never seen so much money in her entire life, though the sum was nothing overly grand. She gripped him tightly in a thankful hug, taking the gritty Krakow Native off guard. She placed a polite peck upon his cheek, and then leant back giggling. Andreas nodded his head, and then stood tall before turning and striding off into the distance.

There was still much to be done. As he pulled out his phone, he flipped through his contents to find his sister. Keeping things short and sweet, he simply sent her a message in text format, ‘I have found her,’ was all it read. He put the phone away, holding his jacket close to him as he disappeared into nothingness once more. Today marked the beginning of the end, the end of the beginning he never wanted. He was saving the world once again, the one man that should never have been tasked with it. Because with one wrong step he could turn it upside down.