Carmen Dei 15: Bed of Lies (Patreon)

Beta’d and edited by October Daye, Dr_Feelgood, The Grand Cogitator, and Philosophysics

The plane landed exactly 4 minutes 38 seconds late, which made Dorothy’s right temple twitch slightly. An unacceptable deviation. As they had rehearsed, Geoff stood first and helped get down their luggage. They exited the plane after executing a thank you to the crew as planned, then headed immediately to the restrooms. You did need to factor in biological functions after all, then proceeded to the baggage carousel where they retrieved the rest of their luggage.

As they had been told, a driver with a card was waiting for them. What was not planned was that the card said “Geoff and Dorothy Schmidt” on it. The sign should have read “Mr. & Mrs. Schmidt,” with the ampersand. Someone had failed to properly follow protocol, and Dorothy felt her headache coming on again, and her skin crawl with the need to disappear, to hide, everyone was staring at her and she was ugly, so ugly, hideous how could they bear to look at-

“Your vehicle is right this way,” the driver said, and Dorothy forced herself back onto the proper track. Small deviations could be ignored. She would kill those responsible later.

They spent 2 minutes 17 seconds less in the vehicle than they had anticipated, which meant they were now 2 minutes 21 seconds behind schedule. That was still within reasonable bounds. She proceeded to the meeting room, where Allfather was waiting, along with the planned meal: chicken salad sandwiches with Lays crisps, and sparkling water to drink. Laid out with exacting precision.

“Please, you must be hungry, it’s time for lunch,” Allfather said, gesturing to the food.

It was exactly 11:45 am, though obviously that was in Berlin time, not East Coast Time. Dorothy still ate, of course, as it was important to follow the routine no matter the time.

After taking exactly 14 bites to eat her chicken salad sandwich, Dorothy dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, then replaced it on her lap and folded her hands over her napkin. “So, Richard, what do you have for us?” she said, just as she’d rehearsed.

“Something amusing, I hope,” Geoff said, baring his teeth. It was supposed to be a smile, but unlike Dorothy, Geoff never practiced his smiles, so they were rather unnerving and unnatural. It was one of the many things Dorothy hated about her husband.

“It’s the sort of job you both enjoy,” Allfather said, smiling and pushing three photographs towards them.

One depicted a redheaded woman that Dorothy immediately hated. Despite her overly large jewish nose, the woman had the sort of looks that drew eyes to her, and the sort of bright smile that showed genuine happiness and contentment with herself and her place in the world.

Lies lies lies she’s full of lies she’s not pretty she’s ugly just like you you’re ugly you’re hideous there's a monster inside you inside her inside them all rip off their skin and show them the monster inside-

It was a good thing Dorothy’s hands were in her lap, because they were shaking. The monster inside her wanted blood, and she had to provide it. Later, she’d cut herself, somewhere it couldn’t be seen, to let the monster out of her, just a little. She’d heal, of course, she always did, but she needed a reminder that she was a monster and so was everyone else.

That was why they all had to die.

“This is Venti Luft,” Allfather said, tapping his finger on a picture of a fey looking boy who was smiling and playing a keyboard. “And his companions, Naomi Cohen, and Capri Lakatos. A pair of devient homosexuals, as well as a jewess and a gypsy.”

“Filthy. They’re filthy,” Dorothy said, reciting the words that had been drilled into her skull so deeply that she knew it was really her that was filthy, and not all the blood in the world could cover it.

“You want them…dead?” Geoff asked, his tone flat, but his eyes burning. He was a monster too. Just like Dorothy. It was why they deserved one another, even though she knew he thought she was as ugly as she really was. At night, when the lights were off, when they lay in bed together, she knew he could see her monster, see what she really was. Just as she could see what he really was. A monster. Like her.

“Not just them. We’ve a report that they are at a theater owned by a breeding pair of zionists. I want them, and everyone else in that building, dead.”

“No…restrictions?” Dorothy asked, touching the paper with Naomi’s face. Why? Why did she have to be pretty? Dorothy was so ugly, and this Naomi would be ugly too, under her skin, where the blood and brains and shit and filthy and ugly ugly ugly you’re so ugly!

Dorothy lifted her finger, regarding her broken nail and the drop of blood there. She ripped the nail off, drawing more blood, but she healed before the monster could make its way out. Not that it mattered. It had been Allfather who had shown her what a monster she was. What a monster they all were. She had to obey him. Had to listen. He was Allfather, and she was an ugly monster.

“None. I’ll be there, along with several others. But I know I can trust the two of you. It will be an evening of Night and Fog. And when it ends, there will be nothing left of this subhuman filth.”

Dorothy nodded, but she knew it wasn’t true.

After all, her monster couldn’t die. She could only show what she really was when no one was looking. And at the end of this night, there would be no one left to see.

Crouching on the rooftop, Capri surreptitiously looked around. There was no one there. Her powers didn’t detect anyone. She’d just come up here on watch, and there was no reason for anyone to be here, the show didn’t start for twenty minutes. Drawing her cloak about her, she dropped her voice. “I am vengeance, I am the night! I am-”

“Batty?”

Capri just about jumped out of her skin and spun around to find a ginning Venti leaning on the door behind her.

“N-nothing! I was just, uh, I was just-”

“Pretending to be Batman?” Venti offered, that smug grin still on his face.

“I swear to God, or at least, another god! That if you tell ANYONE I will personally kick your ass, Venti!” Capri hissed, dropping the cloak and feeling as though her face was about to catch on fire.

“Relax, that’s not what I’m here to do,” Venti said with a chuckle. “I came up here to tell you we’re going to rehearse in a few minutes, and I’ll keep watch, so just relax. But I guess you were anyway.”

“I was, I wasn’t…” Capri hung her head. “Alright, fine. You can call me a loser nerd or whatever now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Venti said consolingly, coming over to put a hand on Capri’s back. “Say, have I ever told you about the Darknight Hero?”

“No…” Capri said slowly as Venti led her back down the stairs.

“Well, there was this young orphaned man who had inherited his father’s business, but he had a passion for justice!”

“Ugh, look, you said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“Huh? I wouldn’t!”

“That’s literally just Batman, Venti!”

“No no, unlike Batman, the Darknight Hero was real! You see, he was a wine merchant who-”

“That’s just drunk Batman, Venti. Look, I’m sorry, but you’re not cool enough to be Batman. If anyone gets to be Batman, it’s me.”

“I…can’t help but think you don’t believe me about the Darknight Hero.”

“And I can’t believe I was striking that stupid pose on the roof,” Capri muttered.

“What pose? Are we doing a new dance routine?” Naomi stuck her head out of the changing room and grinned, causing Capri to jump like a startled cat. “Oh? What’s wrong, Capri?”

“Nothing! Don’t believe anything Venti says about the Darknight Hero, Batman doesn’t drink!” Capri snapped.

Naomi’s brow furrowed. “Why are you talking about Batman? I always liked Superman myself.”

“Hmm, I think this is another element of Earth Culture I’m missing somehow,” Venti said, frowning and looking back and forth between the two of them.

“They were old time capes, from before capes were real. They’re not very popular anymore,” Noami said with a shrug. “But I remember reading those comics when I was a little girl, before the first real capes started appearing.”

“Interesting, I had read a little about that, but…hmm, time for that later! For now, let’s rock this place!” Venti said happily.

Chaim bustled down the hall, adjusting his glasses and looking nervous. “There’s not a big crowd out there, but…are you sure there will be no trouble?”

“Nope, I’m keeping an ear out. If anyone is coming to try anything, the Winds will tell me,” Venti promised.

“You…you’re really sure?” Chaim asked uncertainly. “I had to tell the buyer I was thinking about it today, and…”

“Relax, we got this,” Capri told Chaim, giving him a thumbs up. “If anyone tries anything, we’ll kick their ass.”

“And if they don’t, we’ll kick ass with our music!” Naomi said, shadow boxing a few times before smiling excitedly.

“Yes, well, I suppose. You’re on in five.” He hurried back the way they’d come, and Capri grabbed her guitar and fussed with her hair in the mirror a little, while Naomi put a little bit of last minute makeup on Venti, who preened at the attention.

Then they hurried out to the curtain, where Chaim was introducing them.

“-something a little bit different for us tonight, we present to you, the Tone Deaf Bards, all the way from Berlin!”

The curtain went up, and Capri grinned, even as her stomach dropped in disappointment. Though the theater could seat several hundred people, there couldn’t have been more than a couple dozen out tonight. Half of those were Chaim and Malka’s family, it seemed, and the empty seats. The doors in the back opened, and a few more people hurried in and took seats, but that just barely brought the numbers up to thirty.

Still, now wasn’t the time to be discouraged. Capri played a few cords, and stepped up to the microphone. “Thanks for all you wonderful people coming out tonight! Are you ready to rock?!”

There was scattered applause and one whistle from Thomas in the soundbooth, but the air was dead. Swallowing, Capri forced herself to smile. She’d just have to play loud enough to fill the whole theater.

“We’re gonna start with a song our resident bard penned himself, we call it, The Winds of Freedom!”

Capri started to play, and as she did, she knew Venti was doing something. She was pouring as much of her passion and ambition into her instrument as she could, and it sparked with Electro, and something more. Naomi was giving the drums everything she had, and even though the crowd was small, by the end of the first song the audience was on their feet, cheering and clapping along. Chaim and Malka’s kids were jumping up and down and squealing with delight, and Capri couldn’t help but grin.

They played past the scheduled time of an hour, doubling that until even with magic and power racing through her veins Capri could feel her voice start to get raw and her energy levels begin to drop. They finished up with a request from the audience, which wouldn’t you know it, was God Knows from Lightning Princess Ami. Apparently, Chaim’s kids were big fans.

By the end, the audience was up to fifty people, and even though the theater was barely even a tenth full, it was a big improvement. Everyone was clapping and cheering, and though the audience looked worn out, they all seemed thrilled to be there.

“Thank you all, you’ve been a wonderful audience!” Capri said, waving as she finally let her guitar hang from its strap. “We’re here every night this week, so make sure to tell your friends and come back to see us!”

A number of people came up to ask for autographs and gush about the music, while others shouted that they would be sure to tell their friends.

It wasn’t all that late, the concert had started at 6pm, and even after they’d cleaned everything up it was barely 9pm. Hardly bedtime, which meant only one thing.

“My throat is parched after that! Why don’t we hit the bar?” Venti said, stretching and smiling. “What’s our take from tonight, Malka?”

“You owe us 168 marks,” Malka said tiredly, ripping off a piece of paper from her clipboard and shoving it towards Venti. “We sold fifty two tickets, but once you factor in the friends and family discounts, because this was basically all friends and family except for that last group that wandered in at the end, we barely sold six hundred marks worth of tickets! Then, there’s the cost of paying the crew, renting the theater, the cost of electricity…we’re in the red, and by a lot.”

“Ehe…uh…maybe we shouldn’t hit the bar,” Venti said, tugging at his collar nervously. “Er, just give it a few more nights? The next crowd’s sure to be bigger…”

“We won’t charge you, not yet,” Malka said with a heavy sigh, shaking her head. “At least you’re trying to help the theater…”

“I don’t suppose there’s a bonus for being a divine messenger?” Venti asked hopefully.

Malka gave him a flat look. “You start making some real profits and I’ll consider it. Tone Deaf Bards. Never heard such a foolish name…” She wandered off, looking defeated as her shoulders slumped.

Venti rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “New idea! How about we go on patrol instead?”

“Beat up some bad guys?” Capri said, slamming her fist into her palm and making a sharp crack of thunder.

“We do have another performance tomorrow, we should get lots of rest and let Capri rest her voice,” Naomi said worriedly.

Capri drew on her Vision, and felt the energy flow through her. Her throat was a little raw, but with some concentrated Electro, it was quickly restored. “Good as new! What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Well, I think it’s time for the Knights of Favonius to show the flag, and prove that we’re here to watch out for Bremenites, big and small!” Venti declared, planting his hands on his hips.

“And see if anyone will buy you a drink?” Capri guessed.

“And see if anyone will buy us a drink!” Venti corrected.

“As long as we’re back before midnight,” Naomi sighed, apparently already surrendering to the inevitable.

“Ah, the night is young, and our next performance doesn’t start until six! Besides, we can hand out fliers!” Venti said, producing two handfuls of them.

“Where are you getting those from?” Naomi asked curiously.

“Solidified Anemo energy and a few other tricks I know,” Venti said, giving her one stack and Capri the other. “Now come on! Let’s have an adventure! Maybe if we get a grappling hook, we can pose and pretend to be-”

Venti dodged out of the way with a hoot of laughter as Capri tried to zap him, and took off at a run. Blushing and muttering, she headed out, with Naomi laughing as she used the breeze to launch herself into the air.

After weeks on the road, the world tour was finally wrapping up. Mushu was anxious to get back home for a number of reasons, not the least of which was because Keiga had already left for Japan, and they had a wedding to plan.

For now, they were in Singapore, and Tsukuyomi was doing the usual speech before the parliament with various other political notables there. He was mostly just standing there and looming. By now, he trusted Tsu to do the job properly, and she had been putting a lot more effort and thought into her public appearances than Raiden ever had. Maybe it was because she didn’t have a couple thousand years of experience as a leader, or maybe it was due to her programming. Either way, Mushu wasn’t really paying attention to the speech.

Their reception so far had been cordial, but cold. Singapore didn’t exactly have the warmest relations with Japan, largely from what had happened during the Japanese Occupation. Mushu was part Japanese, but he was also part Chinese, and he knew perfectly well the horrors that Japan had inflicted, and then steadfastly ignored and pretended hadn’t happened. Singapore clearly remembered, but at the same time, they’d lived in fear of Leviathan and had few notable capes, so cozying up to Japan made sense.

Still, no one was threatening Raiden, and they were making inroads as well as signing historical trade agreements, so Mushu drifted and daydreamed as he stood to Tsu’s right.

“-and finally, for the unconscionable actions of Japan during the unjust occupation, I extend a most heartfelt apology-”

Mushu’s head snapped around at the same time every single politician in the room sat up and sucked in a breath. She wasn’t. There was no way. The Japanese completely refused to-

“-for the actions of my people. As the Electro Archon and Narukami Oshogu, I humbly apologize for the dishonorable actions of my nation. No more shall Japan be an aggressor or oppressor of weaker nations, as to do so is the antithesis of Eternity.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Mushu actually did hear several pens fall. If he concentrated, he could hear the protesters outside who had been angrily demonstrating against Japan. To them, the memory of the brutal occupation was still fresh, and he’d seen more than a few holding pictures of their dead relatives.

Then Raiden bowed. It wasn’t a full bow, she merely inclined her head and leaned forward slightly, but it was a bow. He realized he was holding his breath, and tried to swallow.

“Please accept my deepest regret and sincerest apology,” the Raiden Shogun said to the President. He blinked several times and looked to the Prime Minister, who was slowly shutting his mouth in equal surprise.

When Raiden straightened, the President cleared his throat and stepped forward. “It means a great deal to hear the Ruler of Japan apologize for their nation's actions. Words alone will not mend all wounds…but perhaps this can be the beginning of true reconciliation.”

There was more said after that, but Mushu wasn’t paying attention to the rest of Tsukuyomi’s speech. His phone was vibrating in his pocket, and he already knew who was calling as he stepped back and put it to his ear.

“You heard right. She just acknowledged Imperial Japan’s war crimes and offered an official apology,” Mushu whispered, watching the faces of the rest of the Japanese delegation. Several looked stunned, a few looked like they were about to burst into tears, and others looked furious.

“Does it count?” Nakamura asked, sounding a bit emotional himself.

“She is the Raiden Shogun, don’t get confused about that. If she says it, it’s true, and no one is going to say otherwise,” Mushu growled, watching the faces of those who looked like they had murder on their minds. He didn’t think anyone here, including himself, could actually threaten Tsukuyomi, but if some fool were to try…that would be a real disaster.

What he meant, of course, was not that there would be no protests, there surely would be from Japanese right wingers and Ultranationalists, but that Ei would back her daughter’s play. He had no idea what had brought this on, but Ei wasn’t going to second guess Tsukuyomi on this. This was, after all, why she had created her daughter in the first place: to be her body and voice to the world.

“I…see. Well, I’ll start damage control then. It’s a good thing this is your last stop because this is the equivalent of detonating a live bomb in the middle of a government meeting,” Nakamura said, his tone tight.

Anger flared in Mushu, and he snarled, “Do you disagree? Do you think Japan did nothing wrong?”

“I’m not an idiot, young man. I know perfectly well that Japan committed horrors during the Second World War. I have also long been of the private opinion that if we wanted to truly normalize relations in South East Asia, a few carefully worded apologies would be a good place to start. But I also knew that even as Prime Minister, it would be political suicide for me to do so, and likely tantamount to actual suicide. I wouldn’t have lasted a week before someone tried to kill me. Raiden can get away with it, because, well, she is Raiden. But it’s not going to be pretty.”

Mushu tensed further, though he did feel slightly relieved that Nakamura wasn’t a racist old codger who thought Japan could do no wrong. “You think there will be assassination attempts?”

“Think nothing. I know for a fact there will be. The only question is who will try first, and how much damage they’ll do in the process,” Nakamura said with a heavy sigh. “And, we still haven’t replaced Kenichi. The Yashiro Commission still doesn’t have a head, and they would be the ones to deal with this matter. Now it’s on our shoulders.”

“Shit. What will be the other ramifications?” Mushu said, his head spinning as he glared around the room. He DARED someone to try something while he was on watch.

“I hope she likes apologizing because there’s a long list of countries that will be wanting one and damn well do deserve one. I suggest starting with the Koreans. The Chinese can still go hang for all I care. Do them last. The loss of face will drive them up the wall.”

“I’ll talk to her, but this isn’t my arena. We’d better get her home. Put a briefing together. The good news is, this model won’t nod off half way through your lecture,” Mushu said, then hung up and went back to watching.

The press, of course, jumped at Raiden the second they were given the opportunity.

“YOUR EXCELLENCY! Is this a broad acknowledgment of Japanese War Crimes?”

“Eternity is not simply for the present or the future. It stretches also into the past. To deny the past, is to deny Eternity.”

That was a complete non-answer and had the press yelling even louder, but Tsukuyomi calmly pointed to another reporter.

“Why the sudden reversal of historical Japanese policy regarding apologizing for actions during the Second World War?”

“While I have always been the Narukami Oshogu and the true ruler of Japan, in my absence, certain actions were taken that cannot be countenanced. As I more firmly grasp the policies of this day and age, corrections will be made to errors previous governments have made.”

“How do you think the people of Japan will react to their ruler openly apologizing for Japan’s past actions?”

“The people of Japan have acknowledged me as the Narukami Oshogu and Raiden Shogun. If they wish to truly embrace Eternity, then they must walk the path I have set before them.”

“Will you apologize to other nations?”

Tsukuyomi looked to Mushu, her expression blank, and he stepped forward. “That’s all the questions for now. We have a flight to catch back to Tokyo. Direct further questions to the Kanjou Commission.”

There were more shouted questions, but when Mushu grew a full meter in height and snorted lightning, the reporters backed off. He shrunk back down and shooed everyone else away from Raiden’s limo. “Get a ride some other way. We’re having a private talk.”

Slamming the door, Mushu signaled the driver, and the limo pulled away. He rolled up the security screen between the driver and passenger compartment, and turned to Tsukuyomi, though she still wore the form of her mother, naturally.

“You run this by Ei?” he asked.

“There is no need. We would be of one mind on this,” she responded.

Mushu mulled that over, and largely had to agree. Or at the very least, Ei wouldn’t care enough to contradict Tsu. “Any particular reason you decided to pull this stunt now?”

“Singapore would have demanded further concessions and refused to sign the treaty. A few words cheaply bought the necessary goodwill, and gave us another ally who will open up their markets to our goods, further pressuring other regional powers.”

“Cheap, huh?” Mushu sighed and leaned back. “Let me get this straight now: I think what you did was probably the right thing. I’m a halfu, so I know damn well that Japan is a proud bunch of assholes who won’t admit what they did in the past was not just wrong, it was fucking evil. So I’m not going to tell you off for doing the right thing. What I will ask is if you fully understand that you just set off a powder keg at home. People are gonna be pissed. Nakamura thinks there will be assassination attempts. I agree.”

Raiden’s eyes flashed, and thunder rumbled overhead. “Let them brave the Lightning’s Glow. We shall see who survives.”

“A cute sentiment, but it ain’t that easy. You’ve barely stabilized your government. You can rule through fear for a time, but that’s not how you’ve been operating. You’ve risen to power because the Japanese adore you and think you can do no wrong. But this? This is gonna change some minds. Are you ready for that?”

Raiden was silent, and for a moment, she looked weary, ancient. Mushu half wondered if it was really Tsu, or her mother he was speaking to. “My mother plans for something. What it is, I think you know. For that, we shall need allies and a united nation. I must build a foundation for the fortress that must weather the coming storm for her.  And I cannot build that upon the lies festering at the heart of Japan, nor allow them to poison our relations with our neighbors.”

“Yeah. I can see that,” Mushu said, nodding slowly. He reached out a hand and patted Tsu on the shoulder. “You did good, kid. I’ll have your back every inch of the way.”

Tsu smiled at him, a faint curving of her lips. “Of that, I had no doubt, Uncle. We shall face the coming storm together.”

Mushu nodded, and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. Seven hours. Seven hours until he had to face the shitstorm in Tokyo. He desperately wanted to see Keiga, to plan their life together. But he also wanted to make sure the world for his kid was going to be a better one than the world he’d been born into.

And ultimately, he did trust Raiden. Whether Tsukuyomi or Ei. They were the leaders of Japan, and they were doing a damn good job of it. It was just his job to make sure they didn’t lose the faith of the nation they were supposed to lead.