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Terminal Velocity

Legend has it Daedalus and his son Icarus had been captured and tossed into an open-air prison. 

Long story short, Daedalus built wings of wood, wax, and feathers for him and his son to use to escape.  However, Daedalus warned Icarus not to soar too close to the Arcadian lights or their heat would melt the wax and he would plummet to the ground meeting his demise. 

Well, the ignorant kid didn’t listen no, instead he felt the power flight.  The privilege of slipping the bonds of gravity, and he felt untouchable.  He flew up almost into the Arcadian lights, and his wings just as his father said they would melt away.  

Daedalus could only scream as his son plunged to the ground below. 

Eagles Soar… that’s your line, right Perseus?  You want to be a highflyer, someone to be respected as an officer in the APD? 

But recently everything you’ve done, abused your power by arresting me for no reason, attempting to assert the privilege your authority gives you by using it to pump me for information.  You’ve acted untouchable by pulling out your firearm in a public space and Benjamin Pegg paid the price. 

You’ve soared alright but now, but no longer an Eagle, your wings are fake, cobbled together with the badge you wear, the limited power it vests in you, the sidearm you now waive about with reckless abandon and no trigger discipline. You could’ve used those wings to fly under the radar and reach the pinnacle of the nest once more. 

Instead, you choose to abuse what little power you have left to suit your means, to fulfill your own ends. You’re not a man, you’re not an Eagle, so you’re not flying, you’re falling at terminal fucking velocity.  

Jackson, you think you’re untouchable.  You acted as if there wouldn’t be consequence one for your actions but look at where you are now, you’re circling the drain. 

Your badge melting away in the hot light of my blinding rage, and Benjamin Pegg’s indignation. While the makeshift wings your shield holds together fall to nothing but shit on your back.  

Gravity takes hold and you approach that aforementioned ter-min-al fu-ck-ing vel-ocity. 

You’ll see Arcadia’s surface is just inches from your face and who’s waiting?  Nobody, just the ground, unyielding, un-fucking-avoidable, an inevitable demise.  

But this time the floor is going to rise up and strike you. This earth beneath you will pull you in, drag you down deep, put you six feet under.  So deep that not even the Ferryman will be able find you to balance the scales of your demise… 

Breaking you down into food for the worms and insects who inhabit the black soil and shit beneath you, a victim of your own doing. 

Respected by no one, another dirty cop forgotten by everyone who walks the surface of Arcadia, a simple everyday occurrence, no one left to cry for you, and the only solace you’ll have is that… 

Nobody… will… remember… you.