Parsil
Radio Bob Approved
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2021
- Messages
- 170
- Thread Author
- #1
WANNA-BE CAESAR
EVENTUAL CATILINE
FAILURE
" A tragic ode, the Sorrow at Parting
Here the heavy elegy finds its end
Setting our hearts we draw our swords
A surging sweep, a dance in blood of massacre "
三上 卓
Here the heavy elegy finds its end
Setting our hearts we draw our swords
A surging sweep, a dance in blood of massacre "
三上 卓
What, then, has Chairman Nakamura's vision of Terminal 7 amounted to in the end? What was this last two decades but a quixotic crusade to prove himself infallible? To promulgate — with the same ruthlessness as the Inquisition and the Imperial cult — a dogma that everyone was 'supposed' to fight tooth and nail for excellence, forgetting bonds of blood and friendship, all in accordance with the diktats charted out in the top floor of the Nexus? Nakamura knows now - always has known, in fact - that what he proposed was no truth at all. There exists no such thing as 'objective' truth when it comes to personal relationships, let alone nation-building. The only reason Nakamura decided that he had to pull such a truth out of his ear then force it down everyone else's throats was so that he, with all his groundless, senseless self-assurance, could make it true. So that he could lie to his conscience and feel better about it. It was all thanks to the Providential way in which the Farmouth Coup and subsequent arrest played out that Nakamura Takeo has snapped out of this decades-long trance. The scales are stricken perforce from his eyes, and he now knows for certain that there is no hope for him, or anyone who dared go against his grand plans. And when, as Heaven has predestined, his spirit rises to the highest peak of the afterlife, he will clutch Amaterasu's garments close, and cry, for there is nothing left for him, not here, not ever.
Born on a sunny spring morning in May 1950, Nakamura's rise to success mirrored the peculiar post-war circumstances he was born into. But that does not matter anymore. None of it ever did. His entire life was one Sisyphean effort to climb the ranks of made-up social ladders, to prove himself as the greatest, the biggest, the unquestioned arbiter of truth on each and every issue. Seventy years it took for this petty, idiotic coward to be told
"no". He thought he could have it all, that if he just played his cards right, maybe he could enjoy privileges like no other, to achieve Wallace Breen's lies on immortality and reaching the stars. It never came.
He was always a puppet. And a pathetic one at that. The bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi thought nothing of him. Each "genius deal" he made mattered little. He was so convinced of his fascistic ideology that he thought by staying in his lane and following every order, he'd eventually rise to the top, given his propensity for success and excellence. But that's not how legends are made. And he figured it out, but too little too late. He could never live up to his father, or anyone else for that matter. No matter how much money he raked in for himself and whatever business employed him, he would always be two steps behind his supposed rivals, groveling in jealousy.He was employed Tenzhen in City 12, the city he so desperately wanted to return to in his final moments. Even they didn't like him. They sent him away, to that shithole of a city, Industrial 24. He lost his pride then, and shortly afterwards the mobility of his legs. Frankly, he should've been buried in the rubble right then and there. But for some reason, the tired race-traitor persisted. He was many things, a hypocrite for one, closely followed by idiocy and naïveté. Stubbornness was at the top of his list. And he carried that card proudly, flipping it around to be the symbol of his "unbreakable resolve", the same one that left his body riddled with bullets after the sham, five minute trial he refused to participate in.
What was life before the heavens blessed the world with Takeo Nakamura's presence? Very ordinary.
What is life after the heavens reclaimed their lost son, to join his ancestors in failure? Abysmal.
He likes to think the two are connected, from his spot in the clouds above. He knows he is lying. That's all he ever known, and all he ever will know. There is no salvation for Takeo Nakamura, and there never was one, for anyone. He was a fool for even trying. And yet he smiles from atop his sacred cloud. Because he knows, just as he was doomed to die, so will everyone else who dared slight him. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
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Agatha Doe We were much more alike than we thought. We dance together, smiling, for we know there is beauty in death. | Juniper Stenhouse A man asked me: "What would Juniper think?". Good question. Frankly, I think she'd laugh. Very loudly. | Noah Majors A snake and a traitor. And yet, I can't blame you. If I was you, I'd do the same. Have hope you won't die like I did. |
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Karen Sanders I get you now. In another life, maybe we would've run away together to greener pastures. Not this time. Not me. | Jean-Villeroy Bosch I copied you. Poorly. And met the same fate. No use getting uppity over it now. They didn't deserve us. | おやすみなさい、永遠に I tried. |
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The Press They cry conspiracy, lies, exaggeration and yet don't have time to turn their heads and look at you. Am I the hypocrite? | The Party You're filth. You live in filth, you spew filth, you argue over filth and get treated like filth. And I almost had you. | The Workers You're not going to make it. You decried "monster", "tyrant", and elect another one in my place. |
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My People "History is the judge — its executioner, the proletarian." I hope Marx was right on that one. |
Ask to be hated.
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