Description: He entered a thug in the employ of Rugal Bernstein. He leaves as something else. A man who was always more than he ever seemed has accomplished his goal.
How many times? How many times has Alan Bertrand nearly fallen away, threw aside his foolish ideas and let himself fall totally into the world of "R"? Money would be his god instead of his devil, his life would amount to nothing but sowing pain and discord, and eventually he would almost certainly spend his last chance with Rugal, handsome face forever enshrined in the hall of statues.
This is the fourth time these thoughts have dripped through Alan's head as he makes his way through Taizhou one last time, this time calmly, the city finally quiet. He doesn't like it - gives him too much time in his own head.
Hah! Seishirou... still no idea if he's alive or dead, not really, but he's orchestrated this whole damn thing. Managed to put an idea into his head in five minutes... and then right as soon as he heard about the new Jinchuu, it was like something cracked. He couldn't live like he was anymore, he had to change himself, he had to throw himself against his own walls over and over until something broke.
Feeling more relaxed than he has in years, Alan turns through the front gate of the Bantiankong compound, lifting his head, the light of the sun shining on the wreck of the courtyard. The ice is rapidly, taking with it the blood he and Vice shed all over the place, veins of red and blue trickling down toward the nearby street grate. The image is going to be locked into Alan's mind for the rest of his life - here is where he did it, where the wall broke before he did, where he threw off his flawed ideals.
As his steps crunch on the bleeding slush, he thinks about Li Hua one last time, the girl he used as both excuse and motivation. Another girl whose life was in danger because of money. The cold bites at his bare chest as he reaches over to rub his silver bracelet, the one thing he cares about other than himself in this world. Li Hua's face melts to Tricia's in his mind, and he grins. For the first time, he can think of her without the guilt, because now he truly means to change the world.
A world where nobody will suffer like he did.
A world where he can never be hurt like that again.
A world no longer ruled by cold, soulless money.
Alan Reginald Bertrand stops at the doorway to Bantiankong, bracing both palms on the doorway as he takes a deep breath. He's lost his designer sunglasses, his onyx cigarette case, his silk shirt, and he doesn't care. Electricity from his hands spreads into the doorway, crackling along it, throwing dancing lights behind him on the ice. He looks like he's hesitating, and then his shoulders start to shake. Cackling laughter cuts out into the silence.
"I fuckin' WON! HA! Take that, douchebags! You can't stop Alan!"
He pounds his fists together with a loud boom, and steps into Bantiankong to take his place in the shadows, lightning in his wake.
Log created on 13:18:17 08/27/2010 by Alan, and last modified on 01:34:34 10/09/2010.