The Second Intercourse

 

By Ann V

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters contained herein.

 

Warnings: Technically this has homosexual themes too. Just be careful and don’t yell at me.

 

Dedicated to Bennu because she told me she really liked the first course so I wrote a second one just for her.

 

 

 

Hi there.

 

Hello?

 

I know, I know, do you know me? Yes, yes you do.

 

Yes, I feel like I do, but you look different from what I expected.

 

What, you thought I’d be blonde? You are an egotist.

 

Yes, but what else am I supposed to tell you? I can’t lie. I can’t even insult you.

 

Wow, you really do have respect for your superiors.

 

It just doesn’t show...

 

Because you have no superiors. I know.

 

Yes, I would have that guess that you would know. So why?

 

Because your crusade is done. This is a place run by will and the power to force that will into the weaponry that keeps you floating in a current that pulls the weak under. You ran out of weapons, then you ran out of will. It’s that simple.

 

How did this happen?

 

You worked so hard to build up something. That’s obvious, kudos to you for all the hard work you put into surviving. You made it really far, farther than most anyway. But you really aren’t immortal. Even the immortals aren’t immortal.

 

So what exactly happened? When did I loose it?

 

The question is not that, it is simply if you ever had it at all.

 

Then, did I have it at all?

 

Yes and no.

 

Are you purposefully vague, or are you just trying to piss me off?

 

Well, if you want the whole story of why it all had to happen the way it did, and why you finally succumbed to it all, then I’m not the person you need to talk to.

 

Who is?

 

Someone you have yet to meet. A brother of mine, shy sort but not bad at all.

 

So, this brother of yours, everything is his fault?

 

No, he just reads it. He doesn’t write it.

 

Oh. Well then, you’ve probably seen enough to the world to tell me when do you think I started going downhill?

 

That’s a hard question kid.

 

Should I resent that ‘kid’ comment?

 

No, just sit and let me think. That is, if you actually want to know?

 

I want to know, but I can’t guarantee I’ll like it.

 

No one ever does, so I’d never expect you to. Just take it in stride.

 

Not much else I can do, is there?

 

No. I’m afraid not. I’d apologize but I’d be lying and you’d know it.

 

Yeah. So, where did I go wrong?

 

I’d like to say when you met me. I’d also like to say when you started personally abusing life. I might also want to say when you started to be what you hated most. Sadly, none of those are really true. You started losing the day you misjudged whom you could control and who you couldn’t. That’s all I can really say.

 

So like every other revolutionary, I lost the battle when I thought I’d won.

 

Only the corrupt ones loose that way. The rest just burn out.

 

So I was corrupt?

 

It surprises you? Wow, for someone as intelligent as you are I would expect you’d know yourself better. Of course you were corrupt. You became everything you wanted destroy. You wanted to destroy the threats to what was good and what was abused. Then you went and took something that quite closely resembled what you had been and you became the abuser. You became the threat. You took all the good in people and you destroyed it because you were bitter and you were vengeful. But remember, when you did it you did it with the best of intentions.

 

Yeah, I could have paved the road to Hell.

 

Actually, the road to Hell is paved with dead salesmen.

 

Thanks.

 

Well, you did what everyone does: You only did what you could and you tried as hard as you could.

 

Could I try again?

 

Nope, sorry.

 

Why not?

 

Because you live what everyone gets. You get a lifetime.

 

Oh.

 

Yeah... Oh.

 

You said I ran out of weapons. What did you mean? I didn’t run out of weapons.

 

Yes, you did. Your real weapons weren’t steel and ions, they were ideas. They were people.

 

Wait... people?

 

Your own kin, some humans who were only weapons for a short time during which they were used to make a point, and of course a man who was the weaponry equivalent of a handheld gattling gun with a bayonet attachment.

 

That’s a bit extreme... oh wait. Nevermind, good analogy.

 

I thought so, too.

 

He was just a weapon?

 

Yep, nothing in him but you and your will. Well, there was a little bit of him, but I think it had receded in fear and was exiled somewhere in his ankle. It was that hard to find.

 

You... You talked to him?

 

Of course.

 

So he’s just a weapon.

 

Yes, in the same way that you and your kin are just batteries.

 

We are not! My people deserve respect as the living and superior beings that they are... wait... What are you…? Oh no.

 

Oh yes.

 

No. No. And no! I refuse to believe this!

 

Too bad.

 

No. I didn’t just say that. I didn’t just do that!

 

Yes. Sadly, you did.

 

Oh, my god. What did I do?

 

A lot. Not much of it was very good. Glad you finally realized it.

 

That was a rhetorical question you little... little...

 

Gosh, being a superior is fun.

 

You make me sick. This makes me sick. I make me sick.

 

You must be very sick.

 

How can you be funny right now?

 

Really easily.

 

I want to insult you. I really, really do.

 

So do it.

 

I can’t, you’re... well you are you and I just couldn’t. I’ve gone back on everything; I couldn’t break that little bit of my life philosophy.

 

That’s the point. You’ve destroyed everything else; why not just take it out on me?

 

Because.

 

Well, what would you normally do?

 

I refuse to incriminate myself any farther.

 

Sadist.

 

Thanks, I suppose.

 

It wasn’t a compliment.

 

I didn’t figure that it was. What can I do now? Is there even anything I can do?

 

Yes, yes there is.

 

What? I’d do anything. Anything to just stop this regretful, helpless pain I’ve got building up, just because I can’t stop you from doing this to my head.

 

Now you know how he felt.

 

That’s horrible, and it’s not helping.

 

It wasn’t meant to, but if it helps that isn’t quite how he always felt.

 

It does help. Just a little. I guess.

 

Well, how did you feel? Ignoring all sorts of things that have now been destroyed and spit on, why did you do it? Why him? Why then? Just why? What did you feel that made you do something like that?

 

I’m not really sure. I suppose it was because I thought the end would justify the means. I felt invincible. I just needed to start a plan. I need a muse, an inspiration, for my plan. He was just there and he provided it for me. I made him sane, cleaned him up, and helped him give himself some self-control and then he felt indebted to me.

 

No he didn’t. You could see inside his head, you know how he really felt. So, knowing what you knew, how could you do it?

 

Because... because I was angry. I was angry at the world. I was angry with myself. I was angry at his kind and angry at his simpering attitude. The more demure he was the more I wanted to beat him up, and the more I hit him the more demure he became.

 

Anger stems from fear. You know that?

 

Yeah.

 

So what are you afraid of?

 

Being eaten. Being destroyed. Being caught up in a web and helpless and watching as the heartless destroy me so that they can survive.

 

So he was the answer to your helplessness. He was not a threat, and just to make sure you beat him down even more and made him yours so that he could never be a threat. You destroyed him just to see if you could, just to reassure that you were powerful and that no one was going to eat you just so they could do better than you.

 

Yes, I suppose it is. I don’t feel any better than I did a while ago.

 

No, but what’s going to make you feel better is what lies ahead. You are going to take my hand and go somewhere. I don’t really know where, but I have some ideas and you are going to wait there. Soon enough, someone’s going to come along and maybe they won’t be so much of a hand-held gattling gun with bayonet attachments, and they probably won’t be demure or simpering. But you’ve got all the time in the world or wherever it is you end up, and I think you could at least apologize.

 

… 

 

Well, say something. That look you’re giving me is painful.

 

You’re cruel.

 

I don’t run it. I just sort of make sure it happens.

 

Would he forgive me?

 

He already has. So take my hand already. S’okay?

 

It’s okay.

 

 

Author’s note:

Intercourse is an exchange between two people. Therefore a conversation is a form of intercourse. I just wanted to title something so that it sounded dirty and really wasn’t. Also if you can tell me who the other speaker is I’ll give you an illustration from the first course.