Peacekeeper :: Firenze Delacroix

Peacekeeper :: Firenze Delacroix May 31, 2013 18:11:32 GMT -5

Post by L△LIA on May 31, 2013 18:11:32 GMT -5

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Once upon a time there was a Man who wanted to be good and righteous, but who found himself unable to ignore the rot that festered within his bones. Somewhere within him was the beautiful idea of making the world a better place, of using his own power to raise up the weak and give them better lives, of unbreakable honesty. That's what he dreamed of being, in the secret dark of night when sleep danced impossibility inside his mind. But when he woke, he remembered. He was someone who lived in a land of promises and rewards for anyone greedy and shameless enough to simply reach out with an open hand. And, oh, how wide the Man's fingers could spread — a net whose ropes knew how to unravel just enough to be accommodating.

Politics blessed him, with a pressed white uniform and a winning smile. It would not take him long to learn that these things could be far more powerful than the mechanical force of the weapons he held in his hands. In the streets, he was beloved by ignorant people and considered a Man of honor, but the only honesty he knew was behind closed doors when his smile faded and his uniform became spattered with blood. At first the idea of torturing criminals for information on the government's behalf seemed like a necessary evil, but not every soul who finds themselves within the walls of the Detention Center is a treasonous murderer. The Man learned that quickly, just the same as he learned not to differentiate. The zeros of his paycheck have always been defined by statistics, not sympathy.

That's not to say the Man was unfeeling; his emotions just came to know the kind of flexibility that did not make for the peaceful dreams of his youth. Still, he fell in love and the Woman of his affections was beautiful enough to compensate for the ugly things within him. At least, this is what he told himself. She washed his clothes clean each day, always giving him the chance for a restart. Again and again, he would disappoint her, coming home covered in red, but she would never leave him, optimistic until the end. They both knew the Man would not change, not now, not when his tongue knew too well the taste of money and influence. However, their child... he could be better on the Man's behalf.

The Boy had his father's dimpled smile; his dark, rumpled hair; those hushed brown eyes that promise kindness and unfaltering virtue. From the moment of his first breath, his parents knew there was something right within him that would not be known only to his dreams. Careful not to make the same mistakes with him that they had made within their own lives, they raised the Boy in a shelter of idealism, telling themselves: "He will grow up to be a good Man. He will grow up to be the Man his father never was." And he did.

If ever anyone were to name the Boy's heart, it could only be called Earnest. From the start there was a sincerity within him that was almost painful for his mother to witness. When he broke something — no matter how small or unimportant — he cried with regret, the fat tears of childhood shameless on his cheeks as he stammered out a confession. To this day, a lie has never touched the wide stretch of his lips. Always, there was unfailing honesty and the belief that freedom is found only in the truth. There is no differentiating between taking responsibility for his own faults or for answering even the most innocuous of questions with a forthrightness that might be comical if it weren't so genuine.

People only make the mistake of "Hi, how are you?" once, before they realize there is no such thing as small talk to the Boy. The impossibility of white lies aside, he has bound himself to an unmatched code of equality. A beggar in the street or the President himself are surely both human, the blood of one as red as the other. Just the same, one question cannot eclipse another — all things must carry the same weight or the scales of justice cannot maintain their balance. Surely no one would ask how he felt if they expected anything less than the most flawless truth.

Life should have felt more difficult growing up with these unwavering principles, too much for a Boy so young. Other children didn't think he was much fun to play with, never willing to act the role of the villain during games of Peacekeepers and Robbers and tattling on even their most innocent pranks. There were no hidden schoolbooks or pulling of pigtails on the Boy's watch, his hand always held high in the air if a teacher asked if someone knew who wrote the bad words on the chalkboard when the children had been left alone in the room for five minutes. Despite this, his peers still found it difficult to hate the Boy, even when they left him out of their games. How could they hate someone who always had such good intentions, whose frustrating honesty made his trustworthiness absolute? Perhaps he lost the opportunity for their love, but he has always had their respect.

That respect is what makes the corners of his lips twitch with a prideful smile, even as he tries to maintain a serious expression, telling himself he has only ever done what a Man ought to do. Surely, he thinks to himself, that is a poor excuse for greatness. Yet, there are few things that make him as happy and content as knowing that he has done right, the kind of right that would make his father proud. To a Boy like this, his father is a god. Then again, for twenty-six years now, his parents have hidden all of the bloodstains and guilt from their son, showing him only the image of a Man who is as unsullied as his freshly pressed, blindingly white uniform. So the Boy can't help swearing to himself that he will grow up to be just like his father, even as his father — silently, secretly, desperately — hopes that he won't.

This single, backwards failure is perhaps the only shortcoming in the Boy's aspirations, although completely unknown to him. While his intelligence has never been above average, his hard work still earned him decent marks in school, enough for him to be accepted into Peacekeeper training, so that he might follow in the footsteps of the Man he idolizes. Training to become a soldier of the people, he grew stronger, filling out the lanky body of his youth until he became as solid and steady to the eye as he had always been in his actions. Now, when he stands tall, it is more than height or sturdy shoulders that gives him presence. There is a palpable undercurrent of reassurance in his demeanor that says: I will fight for you. Although his idealism prays he won't have to.

Violence is not one of his virtues, but he has studied its secrets. The ability to disarm a threat, to wield weapons against danger, to pry words of truth from the mouths of liars... these are skills he hopes he will not have to utilize, but that he has learned in case the day comes when such measures are necessary to keep the peace. When people call these tactics special forces training, he cringes and longs for the days when his child-heart was perfectly naive, but now he knows what he knows and should simply be thankful that this is where that awful enlightenment ends... for now. The Boy swears he will only do what he has to do to protect his community and his nation and that he will endeavor to weed out all those who might cross those lines into corruption. After all, he promised his father he would never tolerate anyone he discovered abusing the power of their pure, white uniforms. "Never."

Today is the day the Boy completes his training, the day his father will see him in his own perfect, unsullied uniform for the first time. His father will cry as he tells his son, "Today you are no longer a Boy. Today you have become a Man and I am more proud of you than I can ever say." The real truth of these words will remain in the future for now as they both smile until there are twin dimples notched in the lines of happiness haloing their mouths. They look so much alike that it's easy to forget the differences of what they carry inside, to forget that because of who they've become, neither Man can possibly live happily ever after.