Peter Emile - The Inquisitor

Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. When Peter was born, he was born in Vancouver, British Columbia. He had a loving family, a close relationship with cousins he considers unimportant now. And he was spoiled. Not the sort of spoiled that made him a self-centered brat, but he never wanted, and he was noble, then, believing he could make a difference. They knew he was smart, never forgetting a thing...

For all there has been… possibility, and worry cast about Peter’s past. For all that there is a never ending debate, and will be a never ending debate because of what happened to him later in life, Peter came from a relatively healthy psychological and familial background. While there are many symbols of great moral imperative, his battle is with philosophical, and world spanning movements, not localized hatred. This is not a man who wrestles with Crime, but with an Empire and a Birthright.

Celeste was his only true friend though. Everyone else found his obsession with knowledge disturbing, but Celeste... Celeste refused to let him be lost to the darkness. Even if she had to drag him by the scruff of his neck, or by the collar, she got him to come outside, be in the air he neglected, be in the warmth of the sun he shunned. She was the fire that melted the iciness that grew in him.

He was fifteen, when he was staying with her family, and then it was daylight at two in the morning, for a few seconds. The phone call came twenty minutes after, of an explosion that took Peter's parents away. Being adopted, being Celeste's brother for true, was surreal. The glass walls rose then, and never came down. He threw himself into books so hard, that he was a university graduate at eighteen, with the next two years spent getting any masters or doctorate that took enough studying to numb the pain for a few weeks. By the ends of it, Peter was a celebrity among academic circles, despite how secretive he was.

And then he inherited his fortune, seventy percent of a multi-billion dollar mining interest that had been liquidated the day his parents died. They told him it was a spiteful ex-employee, who took his parents away. There was no blood or bodies to be found. He vanished, overnight. A phone call, a card, now and then, to his remaining family, but he never tried to be attached. They might die too.

Tokyo was amazing, and had all manner of distractions for him. He threw himself into a hedonistic lifestyle, alcohol, good food, and the worst crowds. A rebellious movement, a cult, anything that would give the illusion of caring about him, and make him -feel- again. The called themselves the Chaos Organization, the last one he joined, and they stuck with him. He had a friend, another intellectual, who would play Go every Friday with him. They were lead by a mad clown, and served some Dark Goddess that Peter fanatically worshiped despite how little he cared... An enchantment? Or perhaps just how deep the divide in the man's heart.

His eyes were now Malachite, his hair Venetian, his demeanor loving, but distant. His love of Milton brought him to the wonderful woman, so lovely with her silver hair. She was a librarian, the sort of woman that actually made Peter care. And then she was gone again.

A fight with the Clown, the Goddess manifest, a Sniper looking him down, and Peter mouthed them all off. He could care less. Let them kill him, let his suffering end. But death did not come for him, and when he shattered the jewel holding back seven of the darkest creatures under the stars, he was ready to slit his own belly, and cover for Ashley, to let his friend escape...

And then she appeared. Green hair, and such beautiful eyes. She was so very alone, and she wanted to share her world with him. She asked him to seek the light, and he tried to, so hard. And then he found it. The light had a baby boy with her, and was marching to certain death. He tried to pull it back, to pull it away, but it was so insistent, and in his ire, and his frustration, he cast away the Starlight.

Celeste found him. She carried him inside, treated the wounds, made his heart feel better. She carried him over her shoulder. But... She was one of them, one of the ones touched by the light. Her soul was fire, and his was dark, so abysmal.

The Clown had nothing it could tell him, to make him feel better.

And then they faced him. A door between the dimensions. The Silver, the Crimson, and the Forest. Three women, blessed with magical powers. He should have loved them, any of them... All of them. But his soul was not free.

He braced himself, called upon his darkness, beseeching the dark powers for their blessings. He was filled with a terrible emptiness, the truest entropy that he could call upon. His black blade sang, and he charged. Fire, Death, Time, Light, and Purity opposed him. He would not fall, the evil inside of him had truly taken hold. A cry of nihilism left his lips. He became that which they feared. A Demon born of a Dragon.

“This is a world where people's hearts are filled with hatred, where fingers have no other purpose than to pull triggers!” He was filled with that truest darkness, felt it erasing so much of who he used to be. Gone was the little boy who had a loving family. Faded away was the genius. This creature that faced them was a manifestation of Entropy.

“You should not blame me. This is the dream of mankind!” He rolled out of the way of a burst of flame. “The desire of mankind, and the destiny!” He leapt upwards, and he narrowly dodged the Dead Scream. “To be the strongest, to go the farthest, to climb the highest.” He sidestepped a beam of purifying energy, the light burning at his skin. “TO COMPETE! TO ENVY AND TO HATE EACH OTHER!” He slammed his foot into Celeste's stomach, sending her flying with the force of his demon fueled body.

“And to devour one another. Accept it. This world will die with the three of you.” He slammed his fist into the ground, a shield of entropy blocking the second Dead Scream. All three were bound in the hands of the dead. “Why torment yourself, saying 'Eventually, Someday?' How long have you been fighting with your thoughts clouded by that brand of sweet poison?”

The strike of a rose shattered his hold on the dead. The Void Entity stared down the man who had thrown it. Frowning, he backed away warily. He could feel the intense strength emerging from him. He, who had betrayed the Dark Queen. The Golden and Silver Crystals were united against him, and the Void Beast found itself being pushed farther and farther back.

And then a beam of purifying light struck him full on. The darkness faded. He was hacking blood. “Kill me now. Let me take my hatred into your cycle of reincarnation again and again, that I may begin the cycle of hatred anew!” He was unsteady, his staff shattered into a hundred pieces. “I will hate you, Usurper King, until the day I am reunited with the one I failed. Had I been... Born in the right era. Had I been there for her, when you chose to lust for the pure maiden, instead of the one who loved you!”

“She never loved me. She lusted for me.” Endymion answered.

“YOU WERE PROMISED TO HER!” The Void Demon answered

“Against my will.” Endymion said calmly.

“Free Will is a lie. I am bound by destiny to oppose you forever, Usurper King. Your time has ended. Arthur and Uther before him were the rightful kings of this world. I am of his blood!”

“A pretty speech, and petty vindication. You are so proud, so wretched in your hubris, that you have lost your heart...”

“I never had a heart to begin with, Endymion! I want nothing more than to die, and be with her!” Violet and Red surged around him, Purest Love, and Rage.

“Peter… Peter you can stop fighting now.” Celeste at his side… Her grip on his arm was to stop him from attacking. “You can not win this time…” Kasumi had his right blocked. Endymion was in front, alongside Astra. Peter’s right arm burned. “I only wish I had seen it then… I am so sorry Peter.”

As Astra kissed him, he was focused for that instant on her, the light piercing him, the flames engulfing him, as she pushed him backwards. “I will love you forever Peter. I only wish I could have saved you.”

Peter tried to grab forwards, but he was too late. His last vision was of them. He stared at the ones he knew loved him. Astra loved his mind, Kasumi his heart, and Celeste his soul, but all this Void Dragon saw was Endymion, and glared with hate as he fell. The darkness began then. An endless abyss. “‘tis better to rule in Hell, than to serve in Heaven.” Shutting his eyes, he fell, darkly smiling.

His staff had shattered. It was the symbol of the man he was. The shards, tainted with chaos energies, had buried themselves in his body. And then he was falling into the rift. All three of them were there. The stars were all around him in that vast blackness. Twenty five years old, and he was rather underprepared for this. Falling... Falling... Falling... Floating. The book was just outside of his grasp, as he reached out into the field of stars. He touched it gently, and there was a bright white light engulfing him, as he passed from that dimension, into the next. Someone had been kind enough to leave a backdoor…

He was clutching a book when the EMS found him in the streets of Tokyo, unconscious, and almost naked but for a pair of cargo pants, a massive black gemstone, and little else. The gem and the book clutched in a death grip, he awoke almost seventy two hours later. Someone had been kind enough to pluck the shrapnel out of his skin, and the scars healed easily. He asked more questions than he answered, ascertaining that he was in the past. Or possibly in a different timeline. It did not matter to him. He was safe.

No Sailor Senshi. No Knights. No Chaos. No. Crown. Clown.

That they could find no record of him, even in DNA testing, that his fingerprints were not on file in any database... They were baffled. Peter Emile assured them he would be fine enough if he could get the gem appraised and sold. Capital enough to get clothing, and pay for his time in the hospital, as well as some other expenses. He was able to prove he was trained in numerous sciences. They got him a job assisting their lab technicians. He hid that he had a more advanced understanding of sciences than they did, but did get things working more efficiently. He was soon able to actually get an apartment.

That was eighteen years ago. He has been quietly working on numerous projects, hiding from public eye. He suffered a small panic attack when the Covenant made their entrance, recognizing what they were capable of, but it was under control by others. He continued his work, though he had renovated his apartment, and when there was a cathedral damaged almost beyond repair, he quietly set aside some of his saved assets to purchase it. He had made a respectable living off of the knowledge he had of the future, investing in platinum mining in the same places his parents had found them in his own world. It was nothing outrageous, like it had once been, but it allowed him to live comfortably, and by thirty five, he had reinforced, and rebuilt the cathedral, though it was not particularly open to the public, and still seemed ruined. Camouflage for his own pet project of a shelter. He did not know what guided him, but he felt an urge to make sure that it would be a sanctuary.

But let us step back a moment. When he was working in the labs, Peter noticed that this particular hospital dealt heavily in Virology research. As fortune would have it, when he demonstrated more of his advanced knowledge in this field, they had him shifted into assisting with it. No one really questioned that he worked late.

It was ready by the time he was thirty. An inoculation, and he could feel it working. He had completed one of the major goals he had in life. He was now a Co-Ordinator. The research was never made public, locked away in his own private file. He did not want to risk this getting out. Not when it could turn the military into... He shuddered at the thought. But still... He kept the notes, just in case.

He has kept a low profile, though he occasionally does teach some of his own theories, crediting them to researchers who were the building blocks of the sciences he had been taught in his own time. A mishap or two, referencing a paper that was... In the works, but still, he avoided to many questions, claiming he had found reference to them.

A brush with the military, and a decline of recruitment, though he did assist in cases of Law Enforcement whenever he could, his own little way of giving back. Sunlight still tired him so much. He pondered if it might not be resonating with some fragment of Chaos still inside him. Draining him when it is under Metallia's eye.

Beryl. That name haunted him. He truly had loved her, hoping to traverse back, and save her.

That would not happen now. But he still had his youth. He was in his prime after all, and if things worked out? He would be for quite a long time. He looked into the mirror one morning. He was... Smiling. He had never done that when he was home. He enjoyed things now. He enjoyed his work...

Was this his redemption at long last for what he did as a Chaos Agent?

Peter Emile was born twenty years past, during the sign of Pisces. He was raised with a loving family, close to them, and was content. He felt an affinity for water, happy to sink into it, and let it lap around him. But... All to unfortunately, there are things that happen to those who are happiest when they have a Fate. Peter was walking home from school, having been told by his family they were indisposed. He was not too concerned. This happened now and then, even to people rich, and of noble blood. Yes, even those as filthy rich as Peter's family.

And when he walked in the door, pushing it open with an analytical frown, he looked up, seeing decorations. Happy Birthday! And when Peter looked down? Two parents, one sister, three victims of a robbery gone wrong. Peter frowned, and moved quietly, hearing noise behind them, in the antechamber. He pressed against the wall, and listened. The waves were in his ears.

Looking in a mirror a ways away, he saw into the antechamber as he quietly pushed the door beside him open. One burglar? Father would have had to be ambushed. Mother and Celeste would have been easier prey after that. Peter let his hand rest on a heavy object, looking down at it... This idiot was careless. Leaving a crowbar out in the open. Peter shifted, found a comfortable position, and smirked as the man came out. Crowbar into face, he is down. What Peter lacked in strength, he made up in knowledge. Standing on the man's shoulders.

Peter was not strong, so it took forever. But the man was dead. And Peter finally let himself collapse. The RCMP found him after thirty six hours, curled up on the beach next to the property. They were very gentle, extracting the crowbar out of his hand, and escorting him into the house.

No, no other family, no really good friends. Yes he could take care of himself. Yes he was aware of the body. Yes he did it. Self defense. Peter did not mention how he did not feel any remorse. Yes, he was hurt, he loved his family. But that man had killed them, and so he died for his crime. The officers let themselves out after sending for forensic cleaners. Peter nodded, wished them a good day, and greeted the clean up crew. They were quick, as the coroner and officers had removed the bodies, and it was just some minor work. They were slightly weird-ed out by the young man's questions, but rolled with it.

The smell took a while to get rid of, but Peter's troubles were mostly limited to domestic issues. His father had named him and his sister the sole beneficiaries of his will, and with her dead... Well. Peter was much, much better off then most would imagine. He had eight years on a specific fictional orphan, and an icy grip on his mind. He worked through the pain, became consumed in Legal and Business studies, forcefully took over Elysium Enterprises, and by the time he graduated, he was also the man in control of the entire company, with intelligent and able men working beneath him, who were trusted after being vetted by people who had nothing to gain by betraying Peter, and much to lose.

The Painkiller addiction was the result of what happens when a boy with much too much money is given choices in how to mitigate the pain of wisdom teeth surgery. Vitamins to counteract the fact he had no appetite from them. It irritated him fiercely, but he still made himself eat now and then. The day after his graduation, he met an individual who identified themselves as Cancer. They could take the pain away, they said.

They were looking for him, it seemed. He was filled with something they could make use of. And that was how he became born of the Sea. Cancer... Zoisite, was pleasant, and Peter felt amazing after what they did. He returned the favour by becoming this... Pisces, they wished him to be. He shrugged it off, and gave them extensive advisement on how to harvest energy. It seemed natural to him, the entire Youma feeding on Humans foodchain. Any under his command were deployed into Prisons, Hospisces, ICU's, places no one wanted to look to deeply into death. Wardens, Nurses, Guards, Doctors, it was simple to train them, and he voraciously expanded Elysium to take over entire industries if he could do it safely. He wanted it all.

And when they build a branch office in Tokyo, he made sure to build a place for his new family, this Zodiac, to be with him if they wished. He had a pool of saltwater below the building for himself, Cancer, and Scorpio, a place for the Water signs. In the top floors, apartments for each of them. They were the only things of value to him anymore, and he was quick to make sure that if they were willing to accept his aid, he gave it.

No one else would be lost. And he was rewarded for this benevolence. A Youma he invested a great portion of himself into. His beautiful Camilla. A bride, or a sister, whichever she chose, but she was part of him. It was all that matter. He had the Sea, the second fish with which he swam, his fellow Zodiac, and his Queen.

Let the world burn, or drown, or suffocate, or be tossed asunder. Peter has what he wants. Except a nagging doubt.

What is the Void.

What does it want from him.

And why does he think of himself as the fourth of five?