Disclaimer: I do not own Guilty Gear or its associated characters.

Walk

by iD3

Chapter I: Wasted Sacrifice

Ky awoke to the sound of screaming. The young officer jolted upright in his bed, body moistened with sweat. It took the youth a moment to realize it was him who had been screaming. Ky sighed heavily, trying to remember the last time he'd gotten a good night's sleep. The Frenchman was starting to get worn down again.

It was hard for the ex-knight to drown out the terrible aching in his heart. Just like everything else in the world, Ky was a product of the Crusades, they had left their mark on him.

Ky sat still in his bed, the silvery light of the moon casting pale shadows in the corners of his room. Almost every night the jaded knight would awake with a start, his sleep interrupted by some terrible phantom from Ky's past.

Each time it was slightly different, yet each dream seemed to follow some unseen framework that bound it to the soldier's soul. Sometimes he would see Justice, striding the field of battle, crushed corpses scattering in her wake.

Still worse were the ghosts that sometimes haunted his nightmares. Often times he was visited by the aspects of the dead. They clouded his vision, ripped at his flesh, and tore at his fragile heart. The men who had fallen in Ky's service weighed heavily on his conscience.

Although the weight of the dead was heavy on his shoulders one man vexed him more than all the others. The former knight never knew exactly why the man in red haunted him so. It wasn't often that Ky dreamt of his darker counterpart but when he did it was almost unbearable.

Ky shook his head, and stood. There wasn't any sense in thinking about the past now. The weary warrior shambled across the dark room to his closet. The dresser was lined with uniforms. The stiff garments never felt quiet right to his shoulders. They were just another irritating aspect of his new position.

As the young officer liberated one of the uncomfortable suits from its hanger, Ky glanced over to where his old uniform lay. The garment was in pristine condition, though slightly faded from neglect. Under the flowing blue and white clothes were layers of carefully crafted armor which had, on more then one occasion, saved his life.

Ky turned away. The robe reminded him of a darker, more violent time. A simpler time. A nobler time. He'd worn the garb thrice since the end of the wars but no more.

It was the same routine every morning. He would awake violently, unable to fall back asleep. Then he would dress himself, taking a few moments to cast a sideways glance at his old effects.

Then it was time to complete the final phase of his morning ritual. The weary officer turned his head sideways, his old sword rack coming into view. There sat Ky's old weapon. Like his uniform he'd used it on three separate occasions since the end of the wars. Each morning it called to him, begging him to hold it high once more. It called him back to glory, back to pride, back to battle and bloodshed. Ky's heart felt heavy as he stared at the silvery object. The weary Frenchman turned away. He couldn't bear to look at it.

Ky stopped for a moment, snapping his uniform straight and glancing at himself in the mirror with feigned interest and then walked out the door and into the cold world.

***

It was pouring. Dizzy's heavy coat weighed her down as it greedily absorbed the heavy droplets. Her two friends were in a similar predicament. The soaked Gear dodged out of the rain, her companions following suite.

"I hate England!" One of them moaned out loud. May squeezed the water from her brown hair before tying it back in a pony tail.

"That's a little unfair," Dizzy's other companion chimed in. "After all, its beautiful country even it it's… a little… damp." April didn't look too enthused however, her boots covered in mud.

The three companions were dressed in layers of clothing particularly suited for extended travel. All of which had, unfortunately, taken on their share of water. Dizzy made a mental note to find something a bit more water proof for their next trip to the British island.

The young Gear looked around, carefully surveying the scene. Her wings and tail were getting stiff under layers of rain soaked garments. Although Dizzy desperately wanted to rid herself of the heavy clothing and stretch out her inhuman extremities she knew they had to find someplace a little more private.

"Let's find someplace to stay the night," April said, as if picking up on Dizzy's concerns. "It'll be nice to dry off and get warm." The two girls nodded.

"And maybe we can ask around and see if anyone else has come through this part of town… you know?" April and Dizzy frowned at May's this, sad memories washing over the group.

"Yea," April said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe… we'll find somebody… this time." The brown-haired mechanic had long since given up any reasonable hope of finding any of their old companions. Nearly a year of running had weathered her spirits.

"Well, we better start looking," April finished, a heavy sigh apparent in her voice. The three companions wandered the small British village, dashing from cover to cover, looking for a place to hang their hats. Eventually they came upon a quaint looking inn. Although the building itself was not of the highest quality they all agreed this was the best, if not only, choice in lodgings. With that the three companions stepped in and rented a room.

Dizzy let out a heavy sigh of relief when they finally made it up the stairs and into the room. Although it wasn't very large, the three ex-pirates were more then accustomed to living in close proximity. The half Gear hefted off her heavy coat and stretched her wings to their full extent.

While Dizzy stretched out, April and May were busy wringing out their water laden clothes in the sink and tub. Despite the creeping fatigue, Dizzy joined her companions. It was better to clean and dry everything now. The half Gear knew full well they had to take advantage of every chance to rest and clean up.

Dizzy prayed that this time they would find someone from the Mayship in this small British town. It had been nearly a year since they were forced to abandon ship.

"Somethin' wrong Dizzy?" The blue-haired Gear looked up at May.

"I was just thinking about… everything." The brunette's eyes fell, knowing full well what Dizzy was talking about.

"Yea…" May trailed off, not knowing what else to say. "Tomorrow will be better." Dizzy nodded in agreement, letting May resume the daunting task of cleaning the mud from her boots.

Then again, she thought, they'd been telling themselves that for a long time.

***

Ky could feel their eyes following him as he entered the room. The clattering of keyboards stopped, the shuffling of papers fell silent and the clamor of chatter died away in his wake. Although Ky was an officer of the law there were times when he didn't feel suited to life in the IPF. Wary eyes followed his every movement. The weary officer paid them no mind and continued past the desks and into his office.

He heard the clamor rise as the blond-haired officer shut the wood and glass door behind him. He seated himself at his desk and shuffled through a few papers that were still stacked there. It probably would have been better if he'd stayed home but work was the only thing Ky had left.

The lackluster officer cast a sideways glance out his window. It was raining again. It seemed like it was always raining in England. His superiors had transferred the young figure-head to the small island as something of a political maneuver. Ky frowned at the thought. No sooner was he going to turn back to his work when the door flew open.

"Officer Kiske, I'd like to see you in my office, now." The man's voice was stern and demanding. He slammed the door behind him, his loud footsteps tracing a route back to where he'd come from.

Ky rubbed his temples, knowing exactly what was about to happen. He stood, not bothering to retrieve any items from his desk before heading to his commander's office. The man was of unassuming stature, bland in everyway. That being said, he was of some notoriety, or he would not be in position to make any demands of the former leader of the Holy Order.

"Would you care to explain what you're doing here Officer Kiske?" The man's voice was calm, hinting at mild irritation more than anger.

"Well," Ky began, knowing there was no way out of his current predicament. "I was assigned here roughly three and a half months ago under the premise that I con-"

"Look," he said calmly, cutting Ky off abruptly. "I don't have the time or patience for this. I understand that you are very dedicated to your work but… I sent you home for a reason. I'm getting tired of this."

Ky's face remained stone cold, eyes forwards, posture stiff and erect. He chose not to respond. Whether this was because he didn't want to anger the small man or because he didn't feel the need to justify himself wasn't readily apparent to either of them.

The young officer could feel his superior's gaze burrowing into him. It was clear this small man of moderate importance had begun to lose his cool. If anything could be said of Ky's superior it was that he lacked the often times necessary virtue of patience.

Ky saw him pull a small manila envelope from his desk. The blond glanced down at the rigid looking document which bore the official seal of the IPF. His commander flipped open the cover revealing a single piece of relatively plain, unassuming, paper. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," he began, slowly building into the rest of his sentence. "You're a great asset to the IPF and lord knows that you've earned the respect and gratitude of every goddamned person on this blasted planet but I'm going to have to dismiss you."

Ky stared down at the document. He felt a deep heat rising in his body.

"As of now, you are released from your responsibilities as a noncommissioned officer of the IPF."

Anger was, perhaps, not the right word to describe what the young officer was feeling. Ky's features remained immutable despite the building sensation washing over him. It was wrong, it was insulting, it was shameful.

"This matter will be handled quietly," he continued. "The IPF, the UN and the entire human race is grateful for your years of service both during the Crusades and in the delicate Post War environment. We will provide you with a monthly stipend as a show of thanks now that you have been released from active duty."

"Yes sir," he replied, saluting smartly. "Will that be all?"

The small man watched him for a moment but Ky was unable to read any reaction of his face. He had begun to lose focus, a burning anger blurring his senses. He caught a nod of dismissal from the corner of his eye. Ky saluted one last time, turned on his heel, and marched out of the room.

A hush fell over the building as he exited the commander's office. Ky marched by his former coworkers, ignoring their stares and murmurs. Even though it was justified in some ways, the betrayal hurt.

Although precinct was only a few miles from Ky's house, the return trip seemed to take an eternity. He'd become accustomed to the hollow feeling over the last year and it had driven him to do rash things at times. Kiske reflected on the string of events that had lead up to this newest development. The youth supposed he should have seen it coming.

It didn't really matter now; he just wanted to get away. The youth longed to fill the hole in his heart if even for a few hours. His work used to be one such escape. Although tedious and mind-numbing it distracted him. The shuffling of papers and signing of documents allowed him to focus on the mediocrity of his life and ignore his real problems. It helped him to forget about the dreams, if only for the time he was awake.

Ky knew he had to get away. He had to escape the nightmare, even if for only a few hours. Fuck it, it wasn't like he had work in the morning.

Author's Note: I've been working on this and The Search for I for a long time now and I've got some extra material on the computer but for some reason I haven't proofed or finalized any of it until now. That being said I figured now is as good a time as any to post, if only for my own amusement. The title of this piece, Walk is by Pantera off the album Vulgar Display of Power. The title of the chapter, Wasted Sacrifice is by Killswitch Engage and comes off their album The End of Heartache.