Believe in Me [Joseph Seed/The Father - Far Cry 5]

10. Red

I lunged for the eldest Seed brother. He was close enough for me to grab through the cell's bars, making him drop his music box as it tumbled to the floor. I had ahold of his army jacket, but I was weak from not eating, and he roughly gripped my wrists, nearly breaking them, and shoved them away. My vision was still red from the music box still playing Only You. The blood pumping through my veins did so with such intensity, it felt as if my entire body was going to explode; and as I felt my heartbeat quicken, my adrenaline peaked, along with my rage. With that, I had found a strength way down deep inside me that I never knew I had. That inner strength had been a result of my pent-up anger, my fury that I had kept inside me for far too long.

And it caused me to do something incredible, something inhumanly possible... My palms latched onto the bars in front of me and I started to bend them. At this point, my hands had begun smoking and I couldn't feel any pain. All I could see was red, while I bent the metal bars of the cage.

Jacob watched, his eyes widening in surprise before they went back to normal, trying to conceal his shocked reaction. Then he bent over quickly to get his music box. It was still open, playing The Platters song, but this time I wasn't in his trial. I had ripped off the two metal bars, the only thing that was holding me back from killing the oldest Seed sibling. I threw them on the ground in the cage, a dark, malicious look in my eyes as wrath shrouded my heart, my mind, and my sight.

"How is this even humanly possible?" Jacob muttered to himself, taking his huge hunting knife out of his holster and slung his music box on the ground. "Come on, Deputy. Get me! This is what you want, honey! KILL ME!"

I roared, literally like a lion, as I charged at him. I punched him multiple times in the stomach and once in his jaw before my hands wrapped around his throat, lifting him up high in the air despite his heavy weight, above my head. The knife he had in his right hand was lodged in my shoulder, but I couldn't feel it as he took it out and tried to stab me again; however, he couldn't because Pratt took it from him and threw it in the dirt.

"Fuckin' Peaches!" Jacob choked out as his face slowly turned red, his air supply completely cut off. "And ya know... My brother saw all this comin'. I don't know if he talks to god."

I released him as he plummeted to the ground. I snatched his bloody hunting knife from the ground before I got on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head with an insane amount of strength, so he couldn't escape my hold. He started to cough, now able to breathe.

And I stabbed him in his stomach, the entire knife was lodged inside him, and I twisted it, causing him to grunt from the pain.

"But that doesn't matter. He was right. Humanity is once again in crisis. It doesn't matter what we build or achieve, we will always find a way to break it down. Babylon. Rome..." Jacob's breathed out. "Empires rise, empires fall... America— we're no different. We think we're indestructible... World War Two, War on 'Terror', we survived it. But it only brought us closer to the edge. And this is where we are. Right here on schedule, just waiting for someone to push us... And oh boy have you pushed us... You did everything he said you would do. And you didn't even know it. You had no— fucking clue." He gasped for air, his breaths becoming less frequent and ragged.

"I want you to suffer, Jacob. This is for killing my brother." I pulled his hunting knife out of his abdomen, then shoved it back in, a mixture of mine and his blood together, coating it.

Jacob groaned in response, blood pouring out of his mouth. "And ya know, Morgan... I truly am sorry about Miller... My actions had consequences: his face was in my nightmares every night when I laid down to sleep, but most of the time I couldn't even sleep. Hopefully that gives you some solace, Deputy... Despite that fact, I don't regret it one bit. He was weak—" Jacob choked on his own blood as it dripped on my hands and on his army jacket. "And the weak deserve to be culled."