(Ab)Use Your Illusion: Epilogue

Famous Last Words - March Two Thousand and Fifteen

Ever felt like placing the boot on the other foot? Taking a slow walk in somebody else’s shoes down the cold, green mile to see what it feels like? To have the actions that you have made reoccur against yourself? To have them repeat, yet you are the victim? Be a very interesting scenario, wouldn’t you think? The pain, the suffering, the agony. Would you ever find it fruitful to discover what it would be like to feel as your opponent feels? To be what they are? To feel as they do?

An eye for an eye, they say. For what you did to Anastasia, some say that the same atrocities should be committed to your daughter. She is an innocent, just like Ana. She had nothing to do with your war, just like Ana. Should she be punished because of your actions? Should she be hospitalized because of your actions?

If you had crossed the likes of Kira Zeppeli or Christum Furor in this way, that would be surely what they would do. Even Mara, for example. If you physically and mentally tore apart one of her children, she would have retaliated as such. But before you begin to quake again in your padded cell, fear not. I will not take this path. I feel you have done poor Alanna enough mental damage for simply existing in her life. Maybe not as much as her eternally absent whore mother, but just enough. The girl will have an eternity of mental problems ahead of her. Being in foster care now may be the very best place for her.

Same for you, hiding away in that asylum of yours. You have been well protected. Guards with you day in and day out, protecting you from the horrors of the outside world. The horror that is myself. Those guards will more than likely escort you to the arena this Monday. They will protect you backstage from all those that wish to harm you. But what they can’t protect you from is when that bell rings and our match begins. They cannot protect you from that. No one can protect you from that.

I suppose you have become nice and fat during your time at the asylum. It is not like there is a gym or anywhere for you to train now, is there? No equipment to keep you in shape. No trainers to push you further. How can you be ready? You can’t.

You are not ready.

You never will be.

I will do the same to you as you have done to that poor girl. The reasons for why you picked her have not come to light, if there are reasons at all. Many people, seemingly you as well, have forgotten that once upon a time she was one of YOUR students. You took her in as one of your own, trained, helped shape her. What do your other students think about what you have done? Or have they remained silent on the matter? Or have you hid the truth from them? If you did this to her, what about them?

You will suffer as she did, Zack Lifer. You will suffer the pain. The humiliation. The torture. The agony. Once I am through with you, you will never be the same. If you survive at all.

It won’t be enough.

It will never be enough.

You will never have enough.

But if you simply lay down to die… That is what will happen. You will die.

No remorse…

What a tragedy for you…

And although you will stand there before me in defiance, I will plough straight through you. There is a reason that Andreas Lasiewicz hasn’t been beaten on pay per view since two thousand and six… There is a reason why people fear my name. There is a reason why they call me ‘The Morning Star’. There is a reason why some call me the devil himself…And you are going to find out just why.

Niech skrzydła szatana ukołyszą cię do snu...







She splashed the cold, harsh water upon her face; It ran down from the tap, thundering down at an almost painful rate. The clear fluid hurt her hands, it hurt her face as she washed away the salt tears upon her cheeks, it hurt when it splashed upon her eyes, her hair, her everything. Her blonde locks were soaking, as she splashed again and again and again. Yet the tears still flowed, yet the pain in her heart, her stomach, her very soul was too much to bear. She crumbled to the cold, tiled floor once more, gripping the white sink as hard as she could. How could this be? This is impossible!

To the dawn of the light 

The wind will blow into your face 

As the years pass you by 

Using the sink to steady herself, she attempted to pace towards the doorway. She struggled, she fell. She couldn’t quite compute what had just occurred. Thoughts danced through her mind. So many, many thoughts. Was this real? Was any of this real? She couldn’t quite fathom it all. The pain she felt. The pain Asteria felt. Christ, the pain that Andreas was feeling right now. The pain she was feeling. The pain her fans would be feeling. Her friends. Her peers. Everyone. Everything seemed to rest upon her shoulders right now and there was not a single thing she could do about it.

The wails continued. From herself. From the girl eternally dressed in black, crying in the visitors lounge. The roars from the adjacent room that her body lay cold and lifeless. What could she do? What could anyone do?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The painful, life destroying water slapped her in the face once more. Chilled, harsh, she had never felt anything more painful. She had warred with the likes of Zero McHannon, with Steve Lenton, with Adrien Cochrane, With Magdalena, with LEGION, even NoVaK himself and nothing felt so painful. In her heart, in her mind, in her stomach. She wanted to vomit right now, but she held it back. She had to be strong. For her. For him. For them. For herself. After all this time, after all this pain when they urged, prayed, begged for something. Anything. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

It's the call of your heart 

Close your eyes and your will find 

The passage out of the dark 

She stared into the reflection of the mirror, wanting to break every single fabric of it. Wanting to break everything and everyone. She crumbled once more. How could this happen? the thought rang through her brain. How could this be? the echo thundering through her. Another splash. Another bout of pain. Water was supposed to be healing, but this did not feel anything like it. Her face was barren of makeup; she had not worn any in a matter of days. It was unnecessary in the greater scheme of things.

I will kill him. I will kill him myself! It did not matter who would see. It did not matter where it happened. She would find him. She would ruin him. She would kill him. How he could do such a thing to a girl, A GIRL so pure and innocent. Of course she knew the threats the industry held, of course she did. She had taught her herself over many a painful lesson when she took her on as a private student last year. She had explain the injuries that could occur. The heartache that she would feel. The betrayals that came with the very business she longed to be a part of. Her response?

Yeaaaah. That sounds peachy, but can we’s get ice creams soon? ‘Cause Imma famished!

That girl. That poor, little girl. You did not deserve this. You did not deserve any of this. Who took you from this world? Who took you away from everything you ever dreamed of? It was not fair. None of this was fair at all.

Voice: Hello…

The voice echoed out across tiled wall and tiled floor. It bounced and reverberated up and down and here and there. Heather span in so many circles that it made her dizzy, searching for the source of the voice. East. Nothing. West. Nothing. South and North and all points in-between. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. She span and span. Out of curiosity. Out of fear. Out of anger. Out of everything and nothing in-between. She felt like she was going insane. There was no one around her, only her own reflection in the cracked mirror, a crack she herself suddenly made out of anger, sorrow and frustration. It felt good to break it, the crack running through her mirror image, distorting her face. I have to be strong now. For Andreas. For Steri.


Asteria had been rocking back and forth in the visitors lounge for quite some time now. Heather had called her friend Destiny as the news broke, and her friend had arrived in a matter of minutes to console her. The doctors had attempted to explain what had happened to Ana, but it had fallen on deaf ears. Her thoughts were running rampant. Vengeance. Sorrow. Despair. Hopelessness. Fury.

Voice: Hello…

The voice rang out again, crystal clear. This time as she turned she found she was not alone. She looked down to the tiles, to the shards of broken mirror and tear soaked tissue paper to see feet, bare creamy skinned feet. Her eyes began to scan upwards. She was a curvaceous figure, but with an almost impossibly slim waist line. The floral dress she wore framed this figure perfectly, low cut to display her ample bosom. Her hair was in ringlets, a pure golden blonde that matched her own. Upon her head was a crown of daisies, and it rested upon her giving her a strange sense of regality. Her eyes were crystal blue. Or were they green? They seemed to change at will.

Gabriella Fleurette: I said hello. Is this not a traditional greeting? I believed it was.

Heather froze. She hadn’t heard the girl come into the room, nor did she expect to see her here. A wave of anger washed over her at the sight of the flower girl, especially considering that she was holding the now wilted rose that had been resting by poor Ana’s bedside.

Heather Halliwell: How dare you come here! How fucking dare you!

Gabriella Fleurette: Dare what? I do not understand.

Heather Halliwell: You! You! You have been taunting Steri for weeks now! Almost every single day you have been messaging her.

The mysterious flower girl look perplexed, scratching her head in confusion as she continued her deathly like stare into the Pretty Lil’ Texan’s eyes.

Gabriella Fleurette: Who?

Heather Halliwell: Asteria! You know who I am speaking of.

Gabriella Fleurette: Give me a second. I may need to recheck my messages.

Gabriella’s eyes, green… no, blue, flickered back and forth violently. Heather took a step backwards, her hands resting upon the sink as the flower girl twitched, her shoulders quivered and shook. Even the red rose itself seemed to move, like it was waving at her. And then it stopped, and the girl was simply smiling at her weakly, as was her custom.

Gabriella Fleurette: Ah… The Black Metal Princess. My apologies, I do forget names rather easily. Though I do not believe I taunted this girl.

Heather Halliwell: You don’t… You don’t believe you did? You have made her life a living hell these past few weeks.

Halliwell had her hands now on her hips, the memory of what she had just witnessed fading away as the sheer cheek of what the girl had just said filled her with anger once more. She had been concerned about this flower girl’s appearance for quite some time, asking around for any and all information she could. It had all resulted in nothing. Even the two sailors who had recently arrived on EXODUS shows had remained silent, though they seemed to know much more than they were letting on.

Gabriella Fleurette: I believe the creature known as Nick Kramer committed such an act, not myself. I simply wished for her to rejoice in what is to come. It was a glorious moment.

Heather Halliwell: A glorious moment?

The fury took hold of her, and she gripped the girl by her dress and rammed her into the wall. The tiles cracked and crashed down to the floor, but none of it seemed to have an effect on her. She simply continued her ethereal stare, a smile eternally painted upon her unblemished features. She spoke back to the Texan calmly.

Gabriella Fleurette: I would recommend taking your hands off of my garment. It is rather flimsy and I surely would not wish to be standing in a bathroom next to you in the nude. It is rather cold in here.

Heather Halliwell: I should smash your face in right now.

Gabriella Fleurette: That is also not recommended. It would not end well for you.

That was all she could take, and her fist took flight. It smashed right into the flower girl’s muzzle, a picture perfect right hand that Muhammad Ali would have been proud of. There was a sickening crack of bone, and rich crimson splatted upon the walls.

Heather Halliwell: A-a-ahh…

Heather let go of the girl and stared at her hand. A numbness had taken hold of her, then a sickness developed in the pit of her stomach more powerful than ever before. Her fingers were mangled and bent, the bone splintering out of her middle digit as the claret freely poured from the open wound. Pain shot through her, an agonizing pain that she had never felt before. She stared up at the girl. It was like nothing at happened at all. She was completely unaffected.

Gabriella Fleurette: I did warn you.

Heather Halliwell: My hand? Y-you!

Gabriella Fleurette: I did nothing but stand here. And now I must go.

Gabriella readjusted her dress, covering up the voluptuous left breast that had been exposed in their tussle. After she felt like she was prim and proper again, she dramatically turned, flashing an effortlessly cheesy grin and began to skip out of the bathroom like she was dancing through a meadow on a warm summer’s day.

Heather Halliwell: W-where are you going?

Gabriella Fleurette: I have a most important appointment with your husband to be. He is a most fascinating person, one I have missed conversing with over the years. He has something I need.

Heather Halliwell: Do not go near him! DO NOT GO NEAR HIM!

Heather clutched her broken hand, the suffering of the injury flowing freely throughout her entire body as she limped after her, a trail of vital fluid being left in her wake. Gabriella span and danced out of the bathroom, spinning and spinning as she giggled and sang in joy.

Gabriella Fleurette: I am simply a messenger. And my message must be passed on.

Heather Halliwell: Come back here!

Heather was getting desperate, the pain growing more and more intense. How could it be so? She had punched the girl as hard as she could but she never left a mark. Not even a scratch had been made, yet her hand… her hand looked broken beyond repair. Her eyes blurred as she tried to hold back the salty tears of agony.

In the eye of the storm 

Seek the roses along the way 

Just beware of the thorns 

As she followed the mysterious girl into the visitors lounge, she found her stood right in front of Steri, the girl in tears with her head buried in Destiny’s shoulder. The thin layer of eyeliner had been applied more to mask the tiredness of her near sleepless nights rather than to make her more attractive, but that had been washed away long ago. Several hours had passed since Ana’s passing, though it felt like days, weeks, months. Why is she taunting us? Who is she?

Gabriella Fleurette: She shouldn’t be crying. She should be celebrating this most wonderful moment.

Gabriella kissed Steri lightly upon the forehead. Heather expected the girl to rise up in furious retribution, but Steri simply sat there sniffling, like nothing had happened at all. Her tears seemed to cease for a moment, and the young Dane looked up, but seemed to look directly through Gabriella like she was never there at all.

Heather Halliwell: S-she can’t see you?

Gabriella Fleurette: People only see what they want to see. Right now, I am the furthest thing from her mind.

Fleurette hopped up, spinning and spinning in dizzying circles. She whirled and whirled, the tapping of her bare feet making music upon the floor. As she went along, laughing and smiling like a child, she approached the room where Andreas sat in mourning.

Will you send me an angel? 

Here I am 

In the land of the morning star 

He had barred the doors, refusing to allow the doctors to enter the room as he stood a silent vigil over the corpse of the Songbird. Heather had suspected she was much, much more than a simple protégé of his. She screamed desperately, urging the girl not to enter the room. If she could do this to her hand, what would she do to Andreas if he threw his full force upon her? What was she? What did she want?

Heather Halliwell: No! I will not let you go in there. Leave him be. Please. I’m begging you, don’t go in there.

Gabriella Fleurette: I believe we have heard enough from you for one day, Work must be done.

Gabriella turned and pecked Heather lightly upon the lips. Heather was startled by it, a rich light kiss that made her feel dizzy.

Gabriella Fleurette: Bop!

As she tried to protest, she found she could not. Her lips tightened and began to glue together. She tried to cry out, but to no avail. She dropped to her knees, struggling to breath and tried to ply apart her lips with her uninjured left hand. It was no use. Nothing was any use at all. She peered up through the glass panel and saw that she was already in the room, standing over Andreas, still holding the flower in her hands. How did she get in there? The door was barred!

And reach out for the spell 

Find the door to the promised land 

Just believe in yourself 

She looked on in horror as she rested a gentle hand on Andreas shoulder. Through tear filled eyes she witnessed her beloved reach into his pocket and produce a piece of parchment, though she could not quite see what was written upon it. The flower girl nodded her head, a sickly sweet smile upon her face. Her lips began to move, though she could not hear a single word being said as her eyes began to ooze wax. It dripped out of her ears to the floor, hissing as it hit the ground. The sound of buzzards was all she could hear, a ringing in her brain that kept her on her knees. She clutched her head, wishing it would end.

The lights began to flicker, and through the open window the sky began to darken. The clouds suddenly thickened and grew black before opening to unleash God’s tears. A mixture of rain, hail and snow racked against the window, pouring in through the opening as a gust of wind knocked her to the floor. The lights flashed on and off, electrical equipment buzzed. A hoover began working all on its own; the drinks dispenser began to spit out cans of soda at a rapid rate. She peered up with glassy eyes to see her beloved with an ornate knife in his hand, carving away at his hand as scarlet water ran through his fingertips. No, my love. What are you doing? He held the parchment in one hand, painting a picture upon the walls in blood with the other. All the time Gabriella chanting her inaudible words, a song for the deaf. The picture on the wall, symbols and text that she could not recognise and seemed to make no sense at all. Prehistoric like drawings, painted in blood that seemed to come alive with every scarlet hand stroke. The painting of a sailboat on the wall seemed to move, two male sailors struggling to keep the ship a float against the crashing waves, a siren on a rock attempting to lure them to their demise. As the lights went out once more, there was a sharp and bright flash of lightning that lit up the room, the shadow of a single wing spreading out across the wall. Andreas fell to the ground and it was over.

It's the call of your heart 

Close your eyes and your will find 

The way out of the dark 

As everything returned to normalcy, the world began to spin and Heather fell to the floor. Her heart was racing, her hand in agony. As she looked up, she saw the flower girl once more. She bore the widest smile she had ever seen as she opened the door to Ana’s ward. In her hands was the flower pot, yet the rose itself was now in bloom.

Gabriella Fleurette: Bop!

She gave Heather another kiss upon the lips, this one warmer with lips slightly parted. Heather felt the girl’s breath, cool and pleasant, enter her mouth. She felt as if electricity was flowing through her as she closed her eyes to the sweetest of sensations. When she opened them, the girl was gone. She looked down to her hand, perfectly healed as if no injury had occurred at all. She felt stronger, more awake and her dizziness had abandoned her. She did not dwell on it, more concerned with what had happened to her husband to be. As she charged into the room, she realized the red painting on the wall had vanished without a trace. Everything was as it was before the flower girl had arrived. All bar Andreas’ eyes, eyes that shone like rubies. His hand had healed as well, the dagger gone. He leaned over to Ana, stroking her blackened curls from her face. He whispered softly to her.

Andreas Lasiewicz: Wake up, child…

And with that, Anastasia Starling breathed once more.

Will you send me an angel? 

Here I am 

In the land of the morning star