Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
integrity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-07-08 07:36 pm
integrity) wrote in sirenspull2012-07-08 07:36 pm
22 [Voice]
The citizens of this city, registered and unregistered, are somewhat pathetic.
[Hello, Siren's Port. Have your neighborhood friendly demon, sounding oddly serious and composed.]
We are brought here, against our will, by a mystical force that none of us can control or see. While we are trapped here, we are treated as second-class citizens, the proverbial Rosa Parks on the bus line that is the multiverse, and not weeks after a neighborhood friendly hunt on the newcomer population, individuals seem to have... shrugged it off. Moved along with their lives and their husbands and wives and paper routes and white picket fences.
[There is a slight creak as Crowley shifts in the chair he is sitting in. He pauses slightly, to collect his thoughts, before he continues. A good orator always knows when to draw the line and when to keep talking. He seems to be deciding where it is now.]
Whether or not this is just another display of humanity ignoring when terrible things occur in favor of the new bright and shiny politician on their doorstep is irrelevant. What is relevant is your amazing ability to ignore what is directly in front of you -- we are held in the hands of a group of individuals no more or less powerful than we are and yet we are the second-class. Even those registered as citizens, those with powers in government -- you can't tell me you are truly invited to the weekly bridge game of our Canadian cousins.
[And suddenly, his voice grows slightly harder.]
What will it take for all of you to realize that we are nothing more than cattle in a small pen being poked at with sticks? Would it be the brutal murder of someone you love or the relinquishment of supposed unalienable rights that you hold onto so tightly? What will it take for you to finally open your eyes and understand that you aren't free. Your tiny little slice of life is nothing more than an illusion fed to you by a series of corporations and egotistical human overlords who think themselves better than everyone else because they have a pretty picture stamped on an ID card. So come on -- be honest. What would you rather have -- eternal peace at the price of freedom or the knowledge that you did something potentially great regardless of the consequences?
[There is the clink of a glass -- and Crowley ceases talking. But the feed stays open.
It's a serious question. And a testing of the waters.
He wants to know how many dangerous people are truly in the Port.]
[Hello, Siren's Port. Have your neighborhood friendly demon, sounding oddly serious and composed.]
We are brought here, against our will, by a mystical force that none of us can control or see. While we are trapped here, we are treated as second-class citizens, the proverbial Rosa Parks on the bus line that is the multiverse, and not weeks after a neighborhood friendly hunt on the newcomer population, individuals seem to have... shrugged it off. Moved along with their lives and their husbands and wives and paper routes and white picket fences.
[There is a slight creak as Crowley shifts in the chair he is sitting in. He pauses slightly, to collect his thoughts, before he continues. A good orator always knows when to draw the line and when to keep talking. He seems to be deciding where it is now.]
Whether or not this is just another display of humanity ignoring when terrible things occur in favor of the new bright and shiny politician on their doorstep is irrelevant. What is relevant is your amazing ability to ignore what is directly in front of you -- we are held in the hands of a group of individuals no more or less powerful than we are and yet we are the second-class. Even those registered as citizens, those with powers in government -- you can't tell me you are truly invited to the weekly bridge game of our Canadian cousins.
[And suddenly, his voice grows slightly harder.]
What will it take for all of you to realize that we are nothing more than cattle in a small pen being poked at with sticks? Would it be the brutal murder of someone you love or the relinquishment of supposed unalienable rights that you hold onto so tightly? What will it take for you to finally open your eyes and understand that you aren't free. Your tiny little slice of life is nothing more than an illusion fed to you by a series of corporations and egotistical human overlords who think themselves better than everyone else because they have a pretty picture stamped on an ID card. So come on -- be honest. What would you rather have -- eternal peace at the price of freedom or the knowledge that you did something potentially great regardless of the consequences?
[There is the clink of a glass -- and Crowley ceases talking. But the feed stays open.
It's a serious question. And a testing of the waters.
He wants to know how many dangerous people are truly in the Port.]
[Video//Private]
So, What You're playing friend to Jane and John Newcomer, telling them all about their oppression so they'll revolt, and then you can make a name for yourself in the chaos, is that it?
[Video//Private]
But perhaps you should consider the distinct possibility that altering the way this city works would be beneficial for everyone living in it. Including a bottom-feeding maggot like yourself.
[It's deeply personal, why Crowley is doing this. And he isn't going to share it with a pathetic little insect who wants to believe he's a monster when he isn't. But even he has to acknowledge that the way Siren's Port is run bothers him -- it reminds him too much of Hell, before he took over. Do as you're told and no one gets hurt, until we feel like hurting you, and then oh well for you, back into the Pit you go.
Fuck that noise.]
[Video//Private]
[Meg doesn't look convinced. She's been around a long time and watched people do all sorts of things, and demons do all sorts of things, and she's seen how this goes. And it sucks. She's lived it pretty recently, too. And it sucks more. Who would blame her for being wary about this discussion being brought up? ....Oh, right.]
You want me to believe you're tryin' to be the hero? That's sweet, but I've got memory to back up my claims, honey. And you don't come out lookin' too squeaky clean, if I do say so myself.
[There's a beat, and then Meg rolls her eyes and contributes her thoughts anyway because even if no one asked ohmyfuckingsonofabitch no one thinks about this shit.]
Look. At least half of these people are noncombatants. And both of the sides you'd be attempting something against have people, voids, and technology that cannot be matched by the ragtag collective of crazies you'd get to help you.
[And in case you didn't think Meg was the cattiest bitch of them all, she puts on a little smile as she continues.]
But don't listen to me, I've just been in charge of trying to kill a dictatorial son of a bitch since he took over and killed everyone who didn't listen to him.
[Video//Private]
Meg never would. Meg, in a way, was his own version of the owners of Siren's Port. A bunch of people who were raised in a specific way that could never see the truth because they were conditioned to accept it. She was a bastard step-child of the Texan Evangelical machine on meth -- a cult worshiper that could never see that Daddy Manson was encouraging them all to drink the Kool Aid. Only Crowley knew and only Crowley had the power to see the truth, accept it, and try to change it. He had. It had been messy, violent, bloody, and horrific, but he had done it. What had Meg done except further ruin the world and their reputation? Nothing.
One day, Meg would see the truth. She would probably deny its existence, but one day, she would see it. And when she did, Crowley wants to be there. He wants to see the same horrific realization in her eyes that he had, he wants to see the hope ripped out of her, he wants her to suffer the pain and anguish and agony that not even the racks of Hell could replicate, the realization that their beloved Father was nothing more than a spoiled brat who couldn't even fix his own family, let alone theirs. He wants to be there when she has to see everything she has ever striven for die, because Crowley knows that pain, and he knows that Meg won't be able to handle it.
She will crack. And Crowley will be there to laugh about it.
Until then, he responds calmly and nonchalantly.]
How is that assassination attempt working out for you?
[Video//Private]
The way it's starting to look? You may do my work for me.
[Video//Private]
Crowley lacked the resources of Hell, his followers, his guard, his crossroads here, but he did have something very important and very powerful on a very tight leash.]
Do have fun getting through my pet angel.
I'm certain he'd love another go at you.