#it's his worst fear made manifest!!!! it is the one thing he cannot fathom happening!!!! but this time he's not the child it's HIS child!!!

[navree]

robert pattinson angling for a death in the family adaptation????? he really is the only batman for me

[sftd-official]

WARNING: This chapter is much like Ch13 of SFTD. Abuse and the effects thereof are shown explicitly.

With his vast library of definitions and simulations, Ref-Il could accurately describe the feeling he got, waiting in the Gathering Hall, as dread.

He knew exactly why he was in there. Ref-Il had started to test himself, recently, seeing just how optimized a force he could mobilize against threats. His most recent action saw him bringing, in hindsight, an underprepared force against a well-stocked Haven. He had thought he had run the numbers correctly, seen the outcomes, but it would appear he was incorrect.

Incorrect. Such a nebulous state of being. With his new hobby of engineering, being incorrect was minor. A setback that wouldn’t take long to fix, especially if he could pinpoint where he had made his error. But, in the field, using the resources the Elders had given him? Failure was so much more costly, and the first mark was always the worst.

But Ref-Il wasn’t afraid of the failure itself. The Elders’ forces were innumerable, and with what had happened, he could strike again as they were rallying back the resources spent recovering from his attack. It wasn’t as if he’d done no damage, either—he’d made his mark on that haven. Another strike would prove lethal, especially in such cold months as these.

No... what Ref-Il feared, in some measure, were the possible consequences. When code failed, frustration was bound to follow, and he would not blame Father for feeling as such. Considering he’d already made an unrelated mistake before, Ref-Il looked to alleviate the problem; he already had a second plan of action in place and was fully prepared to explain where he had failed and why. Streamlining the process should speed things up and bring about a much faster resolution, something He would look favorably on, as far as Ref-Il had calculated.

So here he stood, gazing long into the hollow center of the room. He’d already taken his time to analyze the rest of the area, since he’d never been here before. Now he simply waited, running over what he would say and how he would carry himself in his head.

A sound directly in front of him made him raise his view. Far at the end of the platform, Jax-Rai stood, standing tall even after a trip through the Void. His brother opened his eyes and looked to Ref-Il. “Brother. I would not suppose you would know why we have both been called here?”

The sight of his brother here was already throwing a wrench or two into Ref-Il’s visualization of the whole situation. If this was meant to be a private meeting between Father and child, why was he here? He quickly ran through a list of reasons and none of them really checked out. Unless he’d missed some memo that this would be another meeting he’d need to be concerned with, he couldn’t really fathom why Jax-Rai was here.

Ref-Il shook his head. “—as far as I had known, I was going to be talking to Father. Alone.” From the way Jax-Rai spoke, he’d been summoned here. “Did They tell you anything?”

Jax-Rai scoffed. “The Elders need not tell me anything but what They require of me. I come when They call for me and I do not ask why.”

That seemed slightly backwards. Asking questions was how you learned more about your mission. Asking questions led to further knowledge, things you could base hypotheses on and gain answers to. Jax-Rai must’ve been used to blindly following; Ref-Il was built to learn and execute on what he knew. The Elders—especially Father—would understand his need to know. “If that’s your thinking, I won’t tell you otherwise.”

Ref-Il’s rather simple reply led to Jax-Rai crossing his arms, walking forwards to what seemed to be his place in the Gathering Hall. He said nothing more, and Ref-Il found no problem with it. He dropped his gaze back to the hollow of the room and waited.

Though his patience was unlimited, Ref-Il found he didn’t have to wait long. The braziers in the room lit up and their spectral flames rose to impressive heights as he could see the shape of the Elders manifest in the center of the room. He dropped into a respectful kneel, watching as They appeared even to Sightless eyes. They appeared to face him—but he could see an afterimage of Them also facing Jax-Rai. An interesting trick, if nothing else. “Our children.” The voice further made him rethink how things were going to go. It seemed to be a blend of voices—Odin was in there, but He was not the only one. Was this a meeting of all three Elders? He was starting to think this really was about something unrelated.

His hopes were dashed as They continued. “While We have seen your successes in the field, We are also no stranger to witnessing your failures. As children of Us, We would hope you understand why We look so poorly upon unsatisfactory results.”

It felt as if weights were placed upon his shoulders as he could feel Their attention turn primarily to him. “Ref-Il Mordenna. We are certain you understand why you have been called here today.”

“I am,” he replied, looking at Them... where Their eyes should be, anyway. “I understand the last force I fielded was inadequate. But I already have solutions in mind and I know exactly why I have failed. You needn’t worry.”

The mood of the room seemed to shift from calm to cautionary. When the Elders spoke again, he could more clearly hear Odin. “We would not worry were it not clear there is reason to. Considering you have presented that you can fail so early on, We are not so certain We should heed your ‘suggestion.’”

Had they assumed he was making a generalizing statement? No, of course Ref-Il wasn’t meaning to imply They should never worry about him. Systems failed, and this was a reality. Were They truly expecting perfection from him? “—apologies if I’m speaking out of turn,” he began, “but I certainly don’t mean to say you should never worry about me. Father, you know no system is perfect—?”

Wrong answer. Ref-Il flinched back as he saw Odin break from the whole, rushing towards him and looming over him. Dissonant whispers tugged at his mind, making the hair on his head stand on end. “Ref-Il, are you to imply that I have made a mistake in creating you? Is that what you mean to say? Would you like to make Me admit in front of My fellows that I made the wrong decision in taking you from a life where you were nothing and granting you everything?”

This wasn’t looking pretty. All of Ref-Il’s predictions about how the situation was going to go down had been thrown right out the window, and he was struggling to pick up the pieces. One thing screamed at him; he shouldn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. It was clear he’d agitated the situation by speaking his mind and asking questions, though the notion that He would reject him doing so still threw him for a loop. Ref-Il cast his gaze downwards, shaking his head. Hopefully Odin would see he hadn’t meant to imply that, or anything else.

That didn’t seem to be enough for Odin. “Of course. That is what you say now. What spurs you into trying to undermine Me, child? How have I cut you in your mere year of living? Or... is it nothing at all?” He could feel Odin press closer, almost as if He were whispering into his ear. “Do you lash out for the pure sake of doing so? Is your life merely so fulfilled that you must create conflict? I cannot fathom where I have gone wrong with you. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Father’s last line was delivered dripping with venom, and Ref-Il flinched back. He clenched his fists, shaking his head. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” He spat, rising back up. “A mere sorry. It’s clear to Me that you will not learn through words alone. I must apply a different approach.”

Nothing in Ref-Il’s life would have prepared him for what happened next.

One moment, he was kneeling and sitting still in the Gathering Hall. The next moment he could parse, a coursing, searing pillar of energy and psionics was striking his back, making him give a strangled cry as he fell on his front. Any efforts to get up or even flee were quickly dashed as the force of it pressed more and more against him. He felt as if his very bones were being bent well near breaking point, and it was next to impossible to breathe.

The pain continued and Ref-Il was mouthing fervent apologies, eyes squeezed shut as his fingernails scratched at the metal floor. He had never known pain like this. The closest he could come to was the pain of his Ascension, where he had endured being worked to literal death—but this was far, far worse. Beyond his eyelids he could see the flood of psionic energy peeling off of him as Odin continued His assault.

Why. Why? He’d stood down. He’d become subservient. Why did Odin endeavor to punish him so? Ref-Il couldn’t fathom a logical reason. Ref-Il could barely think under the punishing wave of energy he was put under. What he could process was the sheer emotional hurt of the situation. Father should’ve understood. He should’ve known.

Slowly, but surely, the pillar of energy lifted. Ref-Il was left shaking on the floor, tentatively propping himself up on an arm. He barely wanted to move—Odin had very clearly done damage, as his chest still felt compressed, and every breath in brought pain. His body’s natural regeneration felt slower than normal, languid in its pace to undo the damage done.

“Kneel, child.”

The expectation put upon him further made his chest squeeze, but he did his best to comply, planting his hands on the floor and shakily bringing himself to the best kneel he could muster. Taking in a shuddering breath, he clutched his chest and kept his head bowed. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry... and it was then he felt the hot tear tracks down his face. Crying. He’d been crying the whole time.

“Hopefully that has done enough in showing you how to speak to Me.” The vitriol in Odin’s voice stung with every word, and Ref-Il was barely breathing, fighting with everything he had to hold back sobs. “Consider yourself lucky that I do not entertain anything more lasting, seeing as you’re shaping up to be a problem child.” He wasn’t lucky. A knife had been shoved into his chest and Odin was just twisting it. “From now on, do not question Me. I am resolute in my decisions and observations, and always remember you are speaking to a god. Whatever feeble suggestions you can bring to bear I have already considered and ruled out. Is this clear?”

Ref-Il shallowly nodded. “Good. Leave, Ref-Il. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

Just before the tug of the Void shunted him from the Gathering Hall, he chanced looking up just enough to catch sight of his brother, who was witness to the whole scene. On Jax-Rai’s face he could register fear and... something else he’d never seen before. Whatever emotion it was, Ref-Il couldn’t study it for long before the Void roughly grabbed him and escorted him out.

That left Jax-Rai, immediately casting his gaze downwards again as the Elders moved to address him. What he’d seen, what Ref-Il had just gone through... “Our eldest child.” The Elders were back to speaking as one. “We know you to be absolute in your resolve and unwavering in your belief. Even so, hopefully your brother’s failures tell you of the consequences of straying from your path.”

“I understand,” he muttered immediately, not wanting to leave any ambiguity. If he didn’t want to ask questions before, he sure as hell wouldn’t, now.

The air in the room shifted back to calmness, and he could feel the Void rising around him. “Know that We love you, Jax-Rai. Go, and find success in your duties.”

With that, Jax-Rai willingly accepted the Void as it gently wrapped around him and carried him away.

  Ref-Il was practically thrown into his Inner Sanctum.

He landed roughly, tumbling over himself before coming at a stop in front of his Sarcophagus on his back. Laying on it brought even more pain so he curled up on his side, breathing carefully. That was all he did for a minute or so—silently trying to recover as he hugged himself and tried not to jostle anything too badly.

Eventually, what just happened hit him in force. Odin had struck him. He’d asked a question, a reasonable one, and asserted himself. That earned him the metaphorical belt, right in front of his brother. Simple reasoning earned him punishment. Ref-Il sucked in a breath through his teeth. His chest heaved and brought a stab of pain, and he hiccupped. Every breath brought agony and yet it couldn’t stem the oncoming tide of frustration and pain.

In his Inner Sanctum, alone, Ref-Il began to cry. He brought a hand to his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow, but it was largely worthless as his hand shook.

Worthless. Worthless, worthless, worthless. That was what he was. That was what he felt like as Odin had spoken to him, looked upon him with disdain. He had been nothing before and he would be nothing without His care. But was this what His care was? Beating him and then leaving him alone to cry without nary a comfort?

Ref-Il’s breaths were ragged and his sobs raw. Every prick of pain in his chest reminded him of what Odin had done, and his back still burned with the force of the punishment. How was he to know that just asking a question would bring something like this? True, the Elders may be gods, but... thinking on what had happened, Ref-Il couldn’t come up with a counterpoint. Why had he asked? Even so, why was that his punishment? Why was a first transgression met with such aggression?

The only answer Ref-Il got was the sounds of his own sobs echoing in his room. He was alone in his suffering. The minimal staff he had would not empathize with his plight, and there was always the chance that one of them might somehow contact the Elders about him. He’d been made an example of in front of his brother, so Jax-Rai would not want to interact with him so soon after. Even if he wanted to seek out the Commander for advice, one of the Elders was probably listening in to what she answered.

Worthless. Stupid. Alone. Those words and what Odin said throbbed in his skull and Ref-Il’s next sob was full of emotion, pushing his chest as far as it could stand to go as he vented his sorrow. What was he to do? Simply get up and act as if nothing had happened? Go about his business as if he hadn’t been brutally punished? He didn’t know what to do. Odin did this to him.

Odin did this to him.

In the middle of Ref-Il’s grief, something else arose, born of tenants Odin had drilled into him. Odin wronged him. Odin had slighted him. Odin had struck him and expected him to walk it off.

Leave, Ref-Il.

Odin referred to him derogatorily and expected him to take it sitting down, didn’t he? His sobs started to die down as the pain in his chest morphed into something different, something he grabbed ahold of and used to ward away his sorrow. Odin wronged him. The new feeling in his chest rose to his throat as his databases were able to identify just what it was he was feeling.

“Spite,” he breathed. “Of course. Why... why else but spite?” He gently sat up, not bothering to wipe at his tears. “He expects me to walk this all off as if he didn’t just beat me to a pulp. But... that ain’t exactly what He raised me for, is it?” Rising up, the Hunter stared long into the distance. “Of course. I’m sure the old man didn’t mean it, but I’ve learned, alright. He thinks what I did was embarrassing him? Oh, I’ll teach him what it’s like when I’m actually trying.”

Ref-Il. The way Odin spat it left a bad taste in his mouth just thinking about it. Stepping forwards, Mordenna shambled towards his Ascension Pad.

If he was going to be the problem child, so be it.