Barnabas and Keon, with a few other militants, waited at the harbor for their gun shipment, but it wasn't showing. Out of the creaking mists came Clarice Willow, with her husbands by her side, armed and skulking, but Barnabas didn't mind. He grinned and greeted her, old-style. Soon enough, she admitted that his arms weren't coming: "I've told your contacts that you no longer have the STO's sanction." When there aren't any rules, anybody can make the rules.
Old Barney grinned, called her "Flower," talked down to her until she showed more of her cards. "You reached out to other cells. While I've been trying to get everyone to lie low, you've been trying to build a power base." He nodded, grinning proudly. "Gonna run off to STO Central on Gemenon, and tell on me?" He called her Clarice, called her "Sister," reminded her that ultimately the STO is about results, saving the Twelve Worlds: Not "crazy plans that make you into a bouncer in some homemade Heaven..." And Clarice, finally, decided she'd had enough.
She had him on the floor of his truck, on his knees with a gun to his head, before Barney's men could even draw their weapons. She didn't like his methods and she didn't like his philosophy. She loved life, delicious food and wine and smoke, loved her husbands and her wives. She loved bodies. He wrapped his skin in barbs and hissed quietly in the darkness. Maybe these are both paths to God, maybe neither of them are, but they can't coexist. She wanted to lead humanity's children into the future, digital and analog; he wanted to take the Old Gods down with as many of their followers as he could, strapping bombs to children and sending them off into the world. And the boys and girls of Caprica had been so abandoned that they looked to these two -- vicious father, airy mother -- and thought they were the better option.
"Think God's gonna pick out the chosen ones when they die? Do you think you'd be saved? Do you want to find out right now?" If death is holy and heaven is a myth, if the only glory is martyrdom and the body itself is unclean, then why wait around for it? She took his art to its end of line.
"You'd die too," Barney groaned, unable to admit or deny his own hypocrisy, and she shook her head, almost laughing angrily at him: "Little Boy Barnabas. You need to toe the line." She left him with threats. Into the creaking mists went Clarice Willow, with her smiling husbands by her side. And this, Barnabas minded very much. Martyrdom is selfishness, ego, and that means revenge fantasies and power games. True selflessness doesn't announce itself -- takes pains, in fact, to hide itself; to kneel in the closet and pray -- which makes it all the more terrifying. She wanted everybody to get what they want, in an infinite digital Heaven. He just wanted to be free. They're both bullies now. This all happened a long time ago.