Dirge’s Second Operation

Or, “Raze

When she had finished speaking, she stared at me.

I looked at her rather intensely.

She glared at me openly. Perhaps she lacked a sense of etiquette, or perhaps the intensity came from an underlying edge—perhaps more than an edge—of…something.

“And as a result,” I continued, “I’m now in control of our group.” DONTTELLHERTHATSPEAKONLYWHATISNECESSARY I think I spoke too loudly. Hopefully she will just think I’m nervous…

She was rather loud, but she didn’t seem nervous. There was something disconcerting about this woman. “You are telling me that you have taken control of the Caironea gang?”

“The…Alexandre gang now.” I think I spoke too loudly. THINKIMNOTTHINKINGATALLIRUINEDRUINED

I noticed something strange about her mouth.
“You said your name was Alexandre Dirge.”

RUINEDRUINED I couldn’t tell if she had asked me a question or if she had simply made a statement. RUINEDRUINEDTHEREISNONEEDTOTELLALL JUSTLETHERLOCKYOUAWAYAND

When I had received the letter, I was certain that it would lead either to some sort of attack, or perhaps a joke. Yet I am not fighting, and typically those who play tricks do not confess murder to the guard Captain beforehand.

I felt that I had heard the name before…Dirge.

“I may have a proposition for you. I should detain you; however my operation would be undermined if, through justice, you were held in prison. For this reason, I will trust you to return here again, tomorrow. At the same time.”

LOOKATWHATYOUVEDONE I looked at her rather intensely. I waited a moment. I took a few breaths, and then I opened my mouth to speak. “——”

“And no, this does not mean you will escape the law, however….” I was in no position to, on my own, make promises, however I needed to entice her return. “You may be able to make partial atonement if you aid the Kingdom.”

I closed my mouth then winced. I wondered what she had in mind. When I confessed, I had been hoping this would be it, that all this would finally be over.

I saw her wince. I also saw her mouth properly, saw her teeth. This woman had a full mouth of broken—seemingly violently, perhaps even purposefully—broken teeth.

I assumed that meeting with the Captain of the guard herself, meeting with Natasha Rhye, would guarantee my arrest, but it seems…it seems that I’ll have to return tomorrow ANDLOOKATHOWIFAILMYSELFIFAILMYSELFEVERYTIMEIFAILMYSELF I took a breath. My eyes focused on the city wall behind her and then it came back to me; what had put me in this situation in the first place. OHNOWHATHAVEIDONE IVEFORGOTTENMYOHNOOHGODOHHOWCOULDIFORGETMYOWN……
“Partial atonement if I aid the kingdom…” HOWCOULDIWHATHAVEIDONE WHATHAVEIDONEWHATHAVEIOHNOWILLIBE

I could see it in her face again, that edge of something; that edge of madness. It seemed to have heightened. I said, “I can rely on your return, then?”

ABLETOFULFILLMYORIGINALINTENTIONHOWCOULDIHAVEFORGOTTENMYOWN “Yes, I will return.” I made the mistake of giving a courtesy smile. I realized, and quickly hid my teeth.

I confirmed my observations on her mouth. I had thought that there was something disconcerting about her but perhaps it was her situation. Or perhaps both are true.

FORGOTTENMYWHATISWHATISTOCOMEGODWHATISTOCOME

Morning was coming. I could see the light.

I took the day to do research, in addition, obviously, to my job. I spoke to Vinth, Artus and Finch, and then gave up on receiving any information of use from the guard. Though; Finch Dirge Zeth informed me that his mother’s name was Dirge. I did not ask about Alexandre, though perhaps there is some relation. Vinth, too, had some information about a Hail Dirge in the underground gang, but I did not believe her to be the Dirge I sought.

I next spoke to the Solune Agent, Janna Rhye; my sister. The agents knew of the Dirges. There was a Dirge already running a gang: Diesel Dirge, she whose group frequently raided the neighbouring town. There was also another Dirge, in another gang. I assumed this was Hail. Janna said there were three gangs: Diesel, near Baracus; Caironea, in the north east wilderness; and Horith, underground in Murdock, my city.

Perhaps the young Dirge was not lying.

ASINGLECHILDISLIKEASINGLEPARENTUSELESSANDDAMAGEDANDYETMOTHER IS THIS NOT US? AND WHY? WHO IS TO BLAME? And I had forgotten…

“Are you willing to take on this task? The gua—”

“Yes.”

She must have some motive, though why she was so willing when there was, possibly, family in neighbouring groups, I was not sure.

WHOISTOBLAMEWHOISTO And now, it seems we have been gifted with providence, mother. CANYOUSEE This new deal will help us. Truly, a gift from God.

“When should we take on this…operation?”

“I could have the guard ready in two days.”

WHATNONONONONOICANTDOTHATICANTGOTHATFASTTHATSRIDICULOUSNOTEVERYONEISASEFFICIENTASYOUARERHYE “I…cannot.”

“Of course. If you only just took control of the gang, then you will need to gain at least some semblance of trust from them. Right now there is something else I need from you.”

GAINTHEIRTRUSTENOUGHTHATTHEYWOULDFOLLOWMEINTO

“I will put it very simply. First, the guard will help with the operation. You must initiate, but we will provide the motivation. Then, of course, we will aid with clean-up. That is first. Second, I need evidence. This is to be a large operation. Three parties will be involved. I need evidence of your words that Caironea is truly dead. Finally, you need to send your gang on some sort of small mission to prove to them that you are capable.”

“That’s only two,” GAINTHEIRTRUSTGA “because the way I’m going to… —The task I have in mind is the public shaming of the body. We will take it and abandon it outside the city gates.” I looked at her rather intensely, and pointed.

Perhaps it was madness indeed. I did not think too deeply on in it. If this woman could coordinate a gang of fighting men in such a task, she would certainly be capable of the rest.

We agreed to meet again in exactly one week.

We worked for six days. By the sixth, the group had enough confidence in me to perform the task.

We dragged the body to the city gates and dumped it. Propped him up against the doors. Someone wanted to attach the corpse with stakes through the shoulders, to nail him up, but we were spotted. The guard does their job, it seems. WERANAND On the seventh day we rested, and I again met with Natasha.

“I made sure the guards saw you, to heighten the experience. Should the operation succeed, your term will likely be greatly shortened.” Especially if, as I suspect, you acted in defence.

WEARESOCLOSESOCLOSESOCLOSEMOTHERSO “When is it?” CLOSESO

“Two days.”

I covered my mouth to smile.

“Before we part, you must tell me Horith’s location. I will tell you how our end of the operation will function.”

True to her word, the Captain provided motivation. ANDAPPARENTLYSOMEOFUSHAVEACONSCIENCE A member of Horith’s gang, a man named Vinth, brought news from within the city.

Perhaps there is something divine on that young woman’s side. We did not end up needing to create a scenario by force, rather, our undercover guard Vinth had something for us. Horith’s gang was intent on expanding and overthrowing first the Alexandre gang, in its perceived newfound weakness, and then later the Diesel gang. Monopoly over independents. Vinth simply played the part of a concerned neighbouring member.

“We will take them pre-emptively,” was responded to with mostly cheers. It seems my past mistakes as a tactician were either forgotten or…were not as grand as the disfigurem—as the punishment I received for them would suggest. I tried to clench my teeth, felt pain, and began to assemble a plan. It had been my task before all of this FAILURE had occurred.

Lined pockets. We broke the windows shortly after beating the door in. We moved in headfirst; me first. It seems our architecture of aggression comes into reality faster than theirs. We caught them unaware, men at the boardroom table. I commanded the assault, rocks streamed out and then swords were drawn. I commanded the rest to other parts of the building, and then I moved ahead.

The controlled chaos, organized mess, took to the background as I skulked the building, searching. The noise was finally outside of my mind. Through the roar of dissent, I heard a saccharine laugh. I drew my sword and opened the door.

We watched them fill their pockets with stones and then storm though the front of the building. I told the guard to wait until it became loud, and continue waiting for half a minute. We would fall upon them when they were weakened.

“You did this, didn’t you.” He had her by then neck. “That daughter of yours, you told her!”

Horith had made the mistake of trying to intimidate her. At the point of death, Hail Dirge had a habit of…laughter. “How wonderful I must be, how powerful, to have the ability to be in two places at once!” She giggled.

He turned in time to receive a cut across his face. His eyes widened, which I took as permission to drive my fist into his throat. I kicked him to the ground and smiled openly. “In the middle of a siege, your first instinct is to find someone to blame. Oh…” I put my foot on his chest, and then looked around, “Do you hear that? Listen. The guard is here.”

The Solune guards are trained and skilled. Our weapons, seemingly simple rods of steel, beat past the swords most criminals choose to carry, and keep us committed to blunt force instead of blood. “Everyone who survives, which should be most of them, is to be run through the courts.” We poured in, interrupted the partially-completed battles, and finished them on both sides’ behalf.

“No, mother you have to go!”

She said, “Where?”

“Out.” I pointed to the window, breaking it open with my sword and clearing it. She looked at me with deep apprehension. Reading my face, she gave a tragic smile and then…laughed.

She leaned in close to my face and whispered, “I’ll see you some other time then. And…take care of yourself, okay?”

I nodded, we said goodbye to each other, and then she climbed stupidly out the window.

Shortly after, Captain Rhye appeared at the open doorway.

There’s a lot to talk about here. First of all, you can finally see the past conflict of Alexandre Dirge alluded to in The Solune Prince. Second, the story of “Broken Teeth,” a project that I had abandoned over a year ago, has finally been told, at least in part.

Third, this piece could (perhaps even should) be followed up by “Wraith Hail,” which features Alexandre and her mother yet again in a new and exciting situation.

Actually, I think that’s it. Hope you liked it,

Daniel Triumph.

Wraith Hail (2/2)

(Continued from Here)

Part 2

The flames are silent. They drift into the vents. The room is stone, it’s stone, it’s stone, it’s…the tapestry, a gift from mom, catches fire, then the rug, just let me die.

“Come, Alexandre, darling, listen!”

The fire, I am a kēmist by training, kerosene, “it is a flammable liquid and the vapors can explode.”

The air in the room ignites, a cold burst of red and yellow and orange and painful and mother help me

Engaged in crime I grasp my throat
Enraged my mind starts to smoke
Enforce a mental overload
Angry again, angry again, angry (Dave Mustaine 1995)—

HELP ME

Come dear, “she says,” I am disoriented, my bed is singed, but it didn’t catch. The rug is finding its way to me though. I’m dead.

“Come on, you can do it!”

I see her beckon. I hear from the hall, calls for his life. He doesn’t call for me, the trash man. All the servants are out, he is alone, but for me.

“Let the wicked burn in hell, my love, we have work to do here yet! Can’t you see them? They dance with the flames, the wicked, still, look! I want to join them, but my lovely, you still need taking care of, don’t you?”

You can always trust a schizophrenic; if she’s your mother.

I stand up, the bed catches, finally, sharing a moment of heat and lust with the rug. I don’t see smoke, but I cough anyway.

“Look!” he enters the room, my mother is still not helping, she’s helping, look, I look, I look, I loo-

“Hey, kiddo,” I say to him, I say to Orion.

Orion, my owner, looks at me, he’s frightened, paralyzed. He; I feel now, that my resentment was misplaced. He scans the books, on fire. I take the dictionary from the smoldering bed and add it to hell pyre (Zelos Wilder 2003), and laugh as my mother does; the saccharin laugh of our family.

“Nice of you to join us, what’s burning, did the vents do their job?” I stride to the window and open it. The flames feed on the oxygen, the atmosphere, my life.

“Everything! There was a burst in every ventilated room—”

I hated him, so I took him and threw him out the window, save them from the flames, I called.

Then, my mother and I, we left the building and let it die, die instead of me, I’m more important. I’m more important.

(End of Portion)

Part 1 Link

Daniel Triumph.

More about or from Alexandre Dirge:

07.04.17 Jutt and Hail

Wraith Hail (1/2)

Part 1

The more of you that I inspect,

The more of me I see reflect (Dave Mustaine 1995).

But when I went to see what’s what,

I looked around, I was a slut.

I’m in this, here, a room, I have a dictionary I have a bed.

You bought me too, paid food and drink,

Oh ho, your story takes a twist, the bed is red.

Tell me, what was I to you?

I’m a scholar, I know the words.

I just…don’t remember, let jog my mind; open the book:

Definition of concubine in English:

concubine
NOUN
historical 

1. (in polygamous societies) a woman who lives with a man but has lower status than his wife or wives.

Example sentences

1. ‘Abraham ended up with a wife and a concubine, Jacob with two wives and two concubines.’

2. ‘Do they mean to train girls to becoming rich people’s wives or concubines?’

3. ‘Round about were the remains of two 20-year-old women (wives or concubines?), two 40-year-old men, and a dog.’

1.1 archaic A mistress.

Origin
Middle English: from Old French, from Latin concubina, from con- ‘with’ + cubare ‘to lie’.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

They used to tell me to…know my place.

This isn’t my place, is it?

It’s only yours. It is Orion. his name is Orion.

There is a pile of papers and books in the corner,

Near my mother,

She is insane.

“Gasoline was too expensive!” She sings, “I got kerosene~, ah, look! It doesn’t smoke as much! How lovely!”

I watch the fire. I’ll die here, impure. How many of my friends; they call it monogamy, but if you’re not a wife, you’re…concubine.

Let it burn me, mother Hail. The grandfather clock on the wall strikes twenty minutes of fire.

“Come now, don’t be retarded, look, it’s your man, calling in the hall!”

(To be Continued)

Link to Part 2

Daniel Triumph.

More about or from Alexandre Dirge:

First, they Spake

This is a very strange and very abstract piece. I would like to emphasize that I don’t particularly like it, but as Northrop Frye states, the poet is not the ultimate judge of his or her work.

What do you think?

First, she dated the woman, consumed in chaos. She moved over the waters and blood and found it wholly unfulfilling.

Then she dated the man, but he was only interested in her large breasts, though she was a presence and not a person, he could see her only through flesh.

And she left off dating, forever would it bring all parties dissatisfaction, for she knew the future and knew too that dating could only end in rape or murder.

Because you have to stop dating to start marriage.

First he created the laws, the hormones and rules of reproduction. This goes here if you want a child, and it’s also the funnest one, and if not you can put it here and here. So he tested it on the man, and the man didn’t have the right hole, he didn’t follow the right laws.

So he moved on to the woman, but he found her far too soft and forgiving. He enjoyed her capacity, her ability to know all things and see into the future. Unlike the foul-mouthed man, she spoke rarely, and with a timid humility. But she denied some of his laws and he found her displeasing and wished that she would come to die.

Not wishing to break his own laws, he left her with haste. He was unhappy and wished to destroy all that he had created.

For what comes from dust must inevitably return to the sand.

But she was very clever, and knowing more than even the woman, she entered in upon the man, in a time before there was woman, and the man was shocked to realize that he did not find a helping match for him among any of creation.

And he, knowing the grief of man, communed with her.

Being and Spirit, Existence and Presence.

אלוהים ורוח אלהים

Marriage, the reflection, to exist in concept before it is to exist in conception.

And so woman, the reflection, to exist within man before she is to exist in marriage with him.

And so the reunion is eagerly anticipated by the unmarried wife, and loneliness is solemnly retained by the unmarried husband.

And in marriage, the two meet, and they are allowed once again the joys of the garden, and the wisdom of being as one.

Thus curiosity is what pulls the mineral into its stone, the seed into its soil, the plant into its root, the lamb into its kin, the child into its generation, the soul into its body.

For curiosity killed the carnal man,

But intimacy brought forth the ark of marriage.

Curiosity killed the cat

But satisfaction brought it back!

Daniel Triumph.

For another, similar post that I don’t like, try this!

Tell me a story that you cherish. (v2, standalone)

(v1 of this piece was in the short anthology, Passive Progressions.)

This was written in September, when my life was more stable because she was not talking to me. Now, it’s a little different. Horray, for Chaos has returned to me once again!

A Romantic: A person with beliefs or attitudes of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life. ‘This is a beautiful record for hopeless romantics and dreamers – don’t let the cynics tell you otherwise.’ Essentially a reverse cynic or an idealist who’s willing to prove the world wrong in order to achieve his or her dreams.

This summer, my romantic self, the self that stayed up late on school nights watching lovely anime, and read ironic fantasies and speculative science fiction, was reawakened by someone. He is raw and unfocused, passionate and transcendental.

We talked a lot, nearly every night by message. The more I learned about her, the more in love I was. I just want to help with all of her problems, for her the romantic “Me” would conquer the earth! Blackmail the Universe! I learned exactly what all those studies meant when they stated that married men work 30% harder—or more! My creative juices flowed, she was my muse, she was the reason for hundreds of lines.

And now she’s gone, I feel left behind. Where is my love? What happened? She is young and weak, and in need of space. Here my love, take your time. She told me to move on twice or thrice. She said goodbye even more, but came back each time; each time and the last.

September cut my knees, like a certain man, I walk with a limp. My time is running out. The Romantic within me just laughs. “Haha! Is she weak? Then make her strong! Make her a man!” (He means, of course, as a warrior. He likes Jung, and believes that each person has a conscious ego that matches their gender, and an unconscious anima/animus that is the opposite gender.)

But real me? I’m seeing in tragedy. When things are too perfect, something vital is always missing. The chain pops off the bike. The lines rust out my brakes. September cut my knees and then I crashed.

So here I am now. She promised she would come back, but oh so cryptic. I pushed my luck. I have my hope. Oh love, come back!

The Romantic is sizing up all the other potential mates in my life. He wants to get married IMMEDIATELY. I say, people don’t do that anymore. It always goes wrong, and everone wants to wait until they’re middle aged and grumpy before they settle down and find out what makes humans happy.

He does not care. He says “people? Oh you mean ‘they’? They are all weak and worthless. They can go to hell. In fact, their single, lonely asses probably already feel like hell! Do not bother what ‘they’ believe. Look at her! Whew, dark hair blue eyes! And look, that one looks like your dream girl! The blonde curls, well endowed!” I have to blush. I make him stop.

The Romantic is sizing up all the other potentials in my life. I see love with virgin eyes, everyone is beautiful to me. But the Romantic? So judgmental! “I guarantee our lover had an IQ of at least 130. All these dumb women.” They are very pretty though, I say, adding, you don’t even know them that well. “Hah! But tell me, which is more beautiful than the girl I love?” I scan my memory. No one. Maybe one. And, maybe she’s also just as smart. But again, between her and I, as between my love and I, there is a barrier, so for now…

I cherish my memories and try not to feel anxious.

I hope she comes back, but I am not as certain as my Romantic side. How certain is he? “For her, I would blackmail the UNIVERSE!” But as for me…perhaps…she was never meant to be.

“But if she was!” …would she come back?

Hold on to me as tightly as I do you.
“Your wife is the closest person to you in your family.”
Why.
“Because she’s the only member that you choose, and she chooses back.”
How romantic!
Tragedy deserves its tragic end!
Hurrah!
Dance with me!