Desolate Gail: Redux

by Zeronova

The walls of Troy have been blasted open by Kiske, and Troy is as vulnerable as the Seikishidan, but personal conflicts still exist. End of Arc II. Updates periodically.

4. Arc 1: Unknown, unnamed

-X- Introduction -X-
- Desolate Gail Redux
- Started on: 5-17-2004 / Posted on: 6-7-2004 / Checked on: 3-8-2005
- By: Zeronova
- Chapter 4: Unknown, unnamed

- Text: Third person, Narration
- Text: First person, Thoughts
- Text: Interjection, the Narrator

X- End Introduction -X-

The first Gear to come into Ky's range of attack latched onto the wall on Ky's right, then leapt off, claws forward to try and impale the commander of the Seikishidan. In the middle of its flight, it was brought to the ground, the Fuuraiken piercing through its ribcage and protruding from its back, the gasps and death cries of the Gear emitting through the halls. Bringing his sword down to the ground, Ky flung the body off of his blade, realigning it so the point faced the next enemy. He brought his left hand up to the blade, holding it like a pool cue, his eye seeing down the length of the sword, picking an enemy rushing in, and he ran forward. Stabbing out, his weapon seemed to gather specks of blue light from his shoulder and down his arm, jumping down his wrist and onto the sword, where it shot out like a giant bolt of electricity, frying three Gears in front of it, leaving three black cindered forms of bodies, bones bubbling under the intense heat, and bits of muscle and flesh hanging smoking before being tossed out of the way by their comrades behind who were intent on killing humans.

The rest of the Gears finally caught up to the rest of the infantry, Ky being the only one in front of them, his dash forward to meet the enemy proving his bravery to them, and inwardly, his insanity in battle. Patton would have considered it a test of a true man, but the other soldiers considered it certain death, and Patton was a general from a good two-hundred-and-fifty years prior. How do I know all of this random information that you, my reader, never would? It'll be said later. The soldiers back, waiting for the Gears to come, were struck down by their enemy. The first line of the approximate seventy-five soldiers were mowed down under the blades and claws of the Gears, blood splattering onto the second line of Seikishidan behind them who stepped back in fear of the Gears in front of them tearing their fellow soldiers to pieces.

"Attack!" Ky screamed in between his slashes. The soldiers resolved their fear, and slew the Gears who were on top of the dead and dying in front of them, seventy-five Gears to the seventy-five that died on the first line. As soon as the first line of Gears were dead, more came, and the militarized operation turned into an all out battle, soldiers fighting Gears all around, two to one, four to two, and every situation as the Gears cut the close knit attack barricade to disassembled groups of men fighting scared for their lives.

Stabbing his sword into the abdomen of one Gear, Ky ripped out his sword, slashing to his right, beheading another, and swinging his momentum around to horizontally slash the ribcage of another Gear, his blade going through the soft tissue of the Gear with very minimal resistance. Another Gear jumped in, throwing the two dead ones out of its way with a cry of excitement, slashing vertically with a curved piece of rusted metal, bent into a makeshift sword. Ky jumped back, the air whispering by the sword soothing Ky's face with the light breeze, but a strong reminder that he almost just lost his head. The sword lodged into the ground, cement cracking as it forcefully dug into the ground. Taking the opportunity, Kiske jumped forward, dismembering the arm that held the sword, in one quick slice to his bottom left, and then brought the sword up again to his upper right in vertical slash. Bristling with electricity from the wound, jumping from piece of skin to piece of skin, charring the area as it landed, the Gear fell backward, the bubbling slash up its body settling to a black sear.

A quick block to Ky's left, a few sparks jumping off of the blade from the impact, instead of the elemental power, and the blue-level Seikishidan officer throwing his weight forward, the Gear's blade locked in his was thrown out of its hands. In a quick move, Kiske dropped his body to a kneel, swiping in a circular horizontal motion, removing the Gear's heels from its legs, and falling backward onto three Gears behind it. Jumping up from the ground, Ky landed on top of the footless Gear, his sword stabbing through it, and two others under it, killing all three with a scream from Ky as he stabbed into each of them, feeling the bones crunch and skin rip from each as the sword plunged deeper and his sweat fell fro his bangs, exploding in small opaque drops on the disgusted frame below him.

The Gear numbers had dwindled since the initial attack. Their original numbers were unknown, but since the Seikishidan had about ten thousand strong, the Gears had more, but not by terribly much. The numbers had gone down from there, Seikishidan more than Gears. Asides from the few good trained soldiers, the rest were picked off quickly. In this time of war, men were recruited at eighteen, from all over the world registered by the U.N. on a city-by-city basis per country. Although certain country lines stuck, parts of countries had been lost to the Gears, and thus a country-by-country method would be worthless, so the city-by-city draft or not was determined. Cities like Moscow were off of the draft, as the city was wiped off the map, but other cities in Russia, such as the Eastern European ones, such as Warsaw.

To every boy in these cities, joining the Seikishidan at eighteen was a dream, but most of them did it sooner. At ten, a boy was allowed to join a Seikishidan training camp that taught them of the way to fight, about Gears, and gave them a place to live, sleep, a place to eat, and the most important thing is that it provided security. Few boys could sleep at night knowing they might not wake up the next morning, and most didn't have families. So, it was the best thing for them. Women were not allowed in the Seikishidan, but they were allowed to work with the U.N., which included anything from secretaries, lobbyists, and then their Action Agency, a stupid alliteration that was acronymed down to A.A., which basically was a glamorized medic. They carried a twenty-eight-inch sword, which was backup, but were medics first and foremost.

We're gonna need those A.A.s… Ky slashed at another Gear, killing it on spot with a deep rooted slash, cutting into its right side about three inches, and exiting the other side of the ribcage about five inches, the large gash across the chest open and smoldering, small pieces of flesh welded to the bone, which was cracking in the searing electric wake, a dull gray smoke escaping the burning tendons and the water seeping out in mist for the bones to wither and implode on themselves. The wound had been cauterized, but not like the blood mattered to the Gears function as a killer or internals, as it was more like a puppet run by electric impulses and an inhuman extra variable that kept the Gears living, despite their dead bodies. Though the Gears were alive, their blood flow was stagnant, the blood almost coagulating because of the blood's small movement. Also, when humans were made thousands of years ago, by God or evolution, the Seikishidan preferring God, they were not made with the magic variable in the equation of their biology.

Another man fell to Ky's left, the talons of the grotesque abomination tearing through his clothes and into his skin, through his shoulder down to his sternum, the blood dripping from the talons and seeping into the white uniform. Whipping its hands out of the dead soldier, the blood splattered in red darts over everything in the vicinity, finding bulls-eye on white cloth. Punching a Gear in front of him with his left hand, and following it with a diagonal slash with his right hand, Kiske threw another Gear corpse to the ground, the squeals like nails on a chalkboard exiting the lifeless throat as the lungs decompressed.

Kicking the lower leg of a Gear that jumped forward on Ky's right, it stumbled onto one knee, and met a sword through its chin in a fluid motion. Continuing the upward slash, Ky whipped it around in a circle, catching three others in the wake of the electricity. The soldiers around him were sparse, the secondary and third lines rushing to fill the gaps, but even them being slightly few in numbers. The Gears were endless in their heads going back beyond Ky's vision, but he couldn't take time to assume how many were left, as he jumped out of the way of a volley of attacks, to block one, throw the enemy and kill it, then another and another. We need reinforcements, we need A.A.s, we need God. Jeez, something!

A heavy breath escaped Darton as he stopped his sprinting, and put his hands on his knees, head hanging over his body in exasperation. He looked up, seeing slight flashes of blue in the distance, and the screams of men and Gears echoing in the mortuary of the Seikishidan headquarters. The ceiling above was Floor C, cracks permeating through the three-foot thick walkway from the Gear's flood before, their tremendous weight and strength pounding the cement into cracks that spread through it like a weed's roots.

"Keep moving, keep moving…" he gasped out between breaths. Slowly, he jogged forward, his mouth haggardly open, then burst into a full sprint, his mouth hanging wide open, sucking in air like a vacuum had been created in his lungs. He had about half a mile to go, the echoing cries of his comrades like a testament to him to run faster, get there quicker, to fight. Though, his jaded point on the Seikishidan was only superficial, he did want to fight. Hating the Seikishidan was only skin-deep, though he did. For no promotion, for fighting for four years with no avail, and with what they could have done to stop why he was here, he saw it worthless that him being here to stop it from happening to others was vain. That's another road that is explained later, so let's not jump the gun, another old relic partially used by collectors and those who could make ammunition.

He ran harder, sweat pouring off of his head, matting his long bangs to his face and together in large strands, instead of the large hiding feature it should have had. He had no weapon, but when he got there, he'd fight regardless. In plus, despite pessimism, he knew there would be dead and weapons not in use by the corpses. In the course of his run, let's just say he got tired and skip ahead to the part that matters, instead of him running another half a mile while tired. The Gears above his head were gnarling with their attacks, the screaming men more amplified than ever, and blood dripping off the side of the balcony, splatting on the railing on Floor B with a drip-drip-drip.

"Aaagh!" a soldier screamed, as he was tossed off the side of the railing. His arm was snapped, bone protruding awkwardly from his forearm, and the weapon in his hand hanging limply as he toppled off the edge (more like tossed). As he fell, his body hit the railing below on the side, the rest of the momentum tossing him like a rag doll and his head smashing into the cement from the whip. He was instantly dead, as half of his head caved into the bone. Quint gasped raggedly, both from exhaustion and the dead body meeting him as he ran up to the battle above him. He knelt down, his mouth sucking in air, and grabbed the sword from the green level private's corpse, and then closed the eyes of the limp carcass. Looking above to the battle he could not see, separated by a ceiling, he ran the last twenty feet to where the levels curved around and were linked by a stairwell. Jumping around the edge, he slammed each step with his foot, skipping one in between each stride to get up the stairs.

Coming up behind the two groups of soldiers, the Gears pressured the resistance on both sides of the semi-circle that looped around to each side of Floor C, and every floor for that matter. They both started parallel to each other, at the edges of the curves where the left and right catwalks straightened out. Now, they were both edged onto each other's back on the curve, about ten feet between each and the stairwell, which acted as an apex for the fight. He ran to his right as a soldier from the right was thrown back to Darton's feet, a bloodied hole in his chest, and him grabbing into the air to an item he could not reach, possibly God. His eyes were glazed, then fell dull, his hand slapping against the concrete and He who was reached at taking his soul, scooping it out of him lovingly. Quint stepped over the body and ran to take his place in the broken line of the offensive to hold the Gears back. Before he did though, he took a look at the Gears, jumping up to have a head count.

Only about fifty left. Three of four full rows on this side, probably the same on the other. They must have retreated slightly, or we're that damned good. No, they probably took back part of their offensive once they seized the Holy Order's headquarters, and the others are on patrol or search. There were too many to have killed… He blew the thought out of his head, he had a fight to win ahead of him. Reaching down to cup the grip of the chestless soldier, he tossed it like a javelin into the hole where he was thrown from, piercing one Gear through. Gripping the sword of the private who smashed into Floor B earlier that he had taken, he jumped in the broken line of white coats, slashing at another Gear, taking off its arm. The steel cut through the appendage like it was paper, because of the rotten flesh hanging on the bones, which suffered of a derivative of osteoporosis since the Gear operation. All Gears were other organisms before Gears, but a sort of virus, a changing, turned them into what they are.

A long time ago, men had stories about reanimating the dead, which isn't far off of a Gear. The problem is, Gears are still alive, but have no real sentence. They're slaves, rotting while alive, and follow orders. A zombie was usually created through a virus, a radiation, something unnatural. But, all of the things were in fact natural, but only unnatural due to human view and use of them. Magic could be considered unnatural by the use it has that is not natural to humans. It isn't air, water, or anything else. Would electricity be no different if we had not harnessed it? Would fire be regarded as evil and unholy, if we had not learned its secret? Man tried learning to harness and emulate magic, and achieved partial success. Only in their success, there was an unidentifiable flaw that cost the lives of billions.

Darton leaped forward, bringing his blade upward from the ground in a vertical slash, killing a Gear in front of him, the one that had a sword sticking from its chest. The one behind threw the halves away and stepped forward, gnarling with a bit of saliva dripping off from the elongated, yellowed, rotten teeth. Throwing its sword at Quint in a horizontal slash, he jumped back, the edges of the corrugated steel ripping a few pieces of cloth from the chest of the green piece on his uniform. Quint switched his grip to his right hand, and quickly jabbed the Gear in the face with his left, a bit of blood on his fist as he drew back, the skin puncturing itself like a blister. As soon as he did, he turned his body, momentum in his right hand with the sword swinging it in a large arc and crashing through the skull of the Gear. Drawing the blade out of the neck of the Gear, it fell backwards, the edges of its head and neck forming a pool, a twitching limb standing it out before it was lost under the next Gear, which covered it, and diverted Quint's attention with a growl.

A slight glint of blue caught Darton's eye, and he turned his head to his right. Whoa. Kiske stood, attacking and blocking, the lightning jumping from his sword and latching onto Gears around. It seemed to flow up and down his arm, but never touched his skin or burned the cloth. Darton was jarred from his stunned state by a Gear who jumped forward, tackling Quint backwards. Its shoulder was rough like sand paper, and knocked the wind out of him. The Seikishidan sword flew out of his hands, and the Gear fell on top of him. Sitting up, it leaned over him, growling in delight of the kill. The sweat on the mutated skin was like a gelatin, sticking to Darton's trench coat awkwardly, and the Gear itself, a mutated abomination. Bringing its long, claw like hands up about to stab through Darton's head, killing him, ripping him to pieces, whatever Justice told it to do, it screamed out in pain, its back arching up.

A blue light emanated from its back, and it fell limp and dead on top of Quint. He pushed the body off, the eyes looking blanklessly at nothing, the red glimmer fading, as breath and life did. Smoke exited a crater in the back where a lightning burst had smashed into it, burning through the spinal column and leaving cinders of the internal organs, pieces of still red flesh hanging loosely, a bit of blood dripping out like stale milk. Quint looked up and saw Ky nod to him, a solemn "You're welcome, so get in here and fight" expression shown by him. The Commander turned to keep fighting, but was assaulted by a Gear who landed in front of him, pebbles and dust being thrown up by the massive impact. In another leap a moment later, it threw Ky off his feet, the Fuuraiken flying out of his hands.

The Gear landed again on the cement, ten feet from Ky, who smashed into the ground with a thud and rolled to a stop when he hit the wall. Gasping out in pain and agony, he looked up to see the running Gear, coming in for the kill. A constant motion was in the eyes, like it was thinking, processing. You got my number, eh Justice? Thought Ky. The Gear stopped in its run at Ky, nearly five feet away by a sudden change in its direct line with Justice, like it was receiving new orders, the head cocking slightly to the left as the claws dug into the cement, a wicked sound echoing over the cries of Gears and dying men. It turned to the Fuuraiken on the ground, still sizzling with jumping sparks across its surface. It sprinted off towards it; Ky feebly tried to jump up, beat the abomination to it, but falling without breath and the pain.

But, the sword was not recovered by the Gear, as a leather fingerless glove raised it up, a green gauntlet strapped on above the hand. As Darton enclosed his fist, the blade jumped to life with more electricity, reaching out to the walls, pebbles, and whatever it could, conducting off of it and running along it, the blue light like a ghastly after thought to the awkward electricity. He brought the sword up, his other hand finding the grip haphazardly. The Gear came faster, changing from two legged sprinting to an animalistic pouncing position on all fours, jumping both hind legs up between its front, then the two limbs on the upper side of the body reaching out to snatch more ground. It jumped off the cement, claws extended as if to impale Quint while he was still standing. But, Darton wouldn't allow it, nor could he control it. He slashed the sword upward while bending back, the Gear leaping right through the electric wake, trailing blue lines from the sword to the body as it rolled searing to the ground and along, dead instantaneously. The electricity left in the absence of the sword's swing sizzled along the body, jumping like children on a playground, each landing spot of the bounding sparks instantly shriveling, turning black, and smoking a pungent smell of death.

"What the…" Ky muttered as Darton wielded his weapon. The Gears blew through the line of soldiers, four of the white coats being sent through the air, crashing into the wall with a blossom of red or off the edge, to thump on the concrete after a screaming descent. The line was basically broken on the right side, and the left was holding and winning. More Seikishidan were left on the left side of the arc than the right, but if the left side were left to fight two waves of Gears closing it in, they would surely die. Darton felt a pulsing off of the sword, like a heartbeat through his hands and up his body. Maybe it wanted to go to Kiske, its master, maybe he was just unaccustomed to it, or maybe it was just such a thing as uncontrollable or unwilling to the one who wields it as any other thing that needed to be broken in. Regardless, he couldn't control his actions, as the sword seemed to throw him about and control him like a stringed puppet, ironic to the actions Justice put on humanity's immediate enemy.

Darton felt his arms move, but couldn't control them. He brought the blade parallel to the ground, and the hilt to his face, the tip of the blade pointing at the Gears running at him, after breaking through the Seikishidan soldiers on the right blockade side. The front one was husky, breathing heavily, tossing off one of the soldiers as it barged through who tried to stab it, the hapless soul floating over the edge of the railing, a scream echoing through the lifeless halls and its weapon clanging to the ground, no hand to wield it. The unholy blade not only glowed now, but it seemed to have azure to spare. Bits of electricity fizzled off of the sides, the glow was ravenous, the blade's silvery color turning into a pulsating blue, like a heartbeat, every bright parabolic swing of color jumping out more bolts, conducting along what the electrons could reach.

Darton felt the sword pulse in his hands, like it was a life of its own, its very will making him move forward, making him swing, and its monotone thumping feeling heavy in his hands every time it pumped, feeling the beat in his body, his eyes going black every other second then surging back to life with the beat. The Gear trudged forward, faster and faster, the others soon behind, throwing off the Seikishidan, stabbing them through, any means to get by the now broken line of defense. Darton slowly slid his left foot out forward, getting a grip with his toe. The hell am I doing! He thought. He shifted his weight backwards on his right leg, his knee bending a little. The Gear was now within five feet. Its next step and it could take off Darton's head clear and cleanly, except for the blood that would follow. The electricity flowed up and down Darton, coming out of the cement ground of Floor C, pulsating along his legs, finding way over his belt buckle, up his chest, down his arm, jumping like playful kids from point A to point B, playing hopscotch along his body, till it found the blade, drawing it near like a mother calling those playful children in for dinner.

The Gear brought its rusty curved sword up, which was hardly a sword at all, but merely a sharpened, rusted piece of metal that had been filed down on one end to be gripped. Darton jumped forward, his right and left hand on the hilt as he jumped forward, then stabbed the Fuuraiken forward in succession, his left hand leaving the hilt, and his body turning to extend his right arm further forward. Shutting his eyes, Quint did what the sword had him do. A brilliant light emitted off the sword, a flash of illuminance jumping off of the sword. It expanded from a small bolt to a wave of electricity, centered like a bullet, ripping through like an arrow with the electric wake of a speedboat through calm waters. The immediate small arrow burning through, then a delayed blossom of electricity from the initial small jolt expanding outward, destroying anything in the blast radius, which was about three feet.

The charging Gear didn't even feel the death, its body melting, the "sword" it carried dropped to the ground, steaming from the flesh still burned to the handle and glowing orange. The Gears behind were decimated also, reaching through all of the Gears in the flood. The electricity boomed through straight, then pieces of it jumped out, conducting and running along other Gears, making them stand erect under the shock, burning the flesh as the electrons felt over its conductor, their jaws clamped shut and grunting out in pain, their saliva flying from their mouths as organs contracted and imploded on themselves and their muscles tightened to the point of ripping the fibers apart. Few fell into ashes, as well as body parts, sifting to the ground eerily, as others just instantly died under cardiac arrest or severe internal bleeding. The arrow of electricity vaporized into nothing once it blew through the fifty Gears left in the barrage on the right side of the arc on the back of Floor C, and all floors, for that matter.

After the blast, Quint didn't move, sword still extended. It quivered, and fell out of his hands, the flamboyant blue before seeping into pure flat steel, like it was an ordinary sword before it clanged on the ground lifelessly. Quint's hand fell to his side, eyes rolled into his head, and fell forward, next to the unholy blade, a loud thunk as he hit the ground. Where the Gears broke through on the left side was in between two Seikishidan on either side of the three in the middle of the line who were killed simultaneously to break it. The two on each side of the purge were unharmed by the blast, as the Jinki itself was made with the intent of killing Gears, possibly the DNA itself attracted the unholy magic from the blade to the Gears. The Gears that were in direct line of the blast and surrounding were killed, but a few remained. The last four soldiers took advantage of the hysteria, as the remaining few Gears' eyes shifted with life, rolling in their skulls, data sent back and forth between Justice, before being cut down by the soldiers.

On the left side of the arc, the few Seikishidan ganged up on the last Gear, each putting their blade into it, three in number. It fell, gasping hatred in its voice. The right side had survived, yet would not have if Quint had not helped the left, and they would have been attacked from both sides and annihilated. The three turned about, looking for another Gear, adrenaline still pumping from the thrill of battle. Looking to the other side of the arc, they saw the smoldering corpses of Gears, Kiske sitting on a wall gasping heavily and trying to stand unsuccessfully, the four Seikishidan left on that side, and a newcomer to the fight lying lifeless next to the holy implement.

"Hey man…we're alive…" one muttered between gasps, his sword tittering in his hand, then falling out and clanking on the ground as he dropped to his knees in exhaustion. "We're alive…" he muttered again before passing out from exhaustion. The other two grabbed a rail and a wall respectively, and sat, closing their eyes. Praise God for living, ask God for forgiveness on the deaths today, mourn for lost friends. Ky slowly stood up, holding his bruised ribs, and hobbled to Quint, the four guards on the right side each finding some way to celebrate, by talking between breaths or closing their eyes. Somehow, they were preparing to die, be stabbed, life ended, but in all of three seconds, the entire force was destroyed, and they lived, with this mysterious new soldier who seemed to appear from no where, like a savior. Kneeling down, Kiske grabbed up his sword rather violently, like a child who wants their toy back and sheathed it slowly, examining the unconscious private.

"Who're you…" he muttered. He looked over to the three soldiers on the left, four on the right, and one of the four approached him, a red level.

"Sir, we survived the attack." He said rather boisterously. "God bestows his wishes with us!"

"Sergeant…" Ky gasped out between exhausted breaths "round up the soldiers, we're moving out."

"But sir, we won!" he desperately argued. Ky shot him a glance of defiance, and he silenced himself.

"There were far more Gears in the initial attack than what was here. They must have retreated to cover the other sides of the base, in fear of us calling in reinforcements. Or, they could be lying in ambush. We move, now." Ky said with a fervency and tone that generally should not have been from someone his age. The soldier saluted him, his eyes wandering above Ky's head, as it was Seikishidan conduct never to look a commanding officer in the eyes.

"Sir, what about him?" the soldier asked, nodding his head toward Darton. "We're too tired to carry anything but ourselves, sir." Instantly, the soldier made restitution. "I mean, we could carry him if we need to, but I don't think…."

"Sergeant, go sit down and rest." Ky said authoritatively, looking back and forth at the six remaining soldiers, asides the sergeant.

"Sir?"

"We'll rest here for a bit, wait for him to wake, and let us get some energy back. If they attack us now, we're basically dead, but we shouldn't underestimate God's faith in us to stop such an attack. Noah would not have sprung a leak in the ark during voyage without the ability to fix it, and God would not put us there. Sergeant, go rest for now." Kiske said very strictly. The soldier sighed, saluted, and found a spot between the blood, rubble, and bodies to lie.

"Who are you…" Kiske asked again in a mumble to the unconscious body of the green level private, a question that had no required answer. Ky looked up and out, along the lines of the Floor C, broken and battered, bodies of Gears and humans lining the catwalks, pools of blood forming around them. Splatters of blood on the walls, broken railings, loose weapons and limbs like lost artifacts, all like little decorating touches. "God, save us…" Kiske muttered before falling to his knees and his back collapsing against the wall, sliding down and sliding into slumber.

-X- Author's Notes –X-
- Zeronova's Notes:
- And now you know the end of the first major battle! Not much to say, except I have a lot more charaterization in the story than before, as well as more showing of the real world that GG takes place in ( a big goal of my story ). So, next Monday, June 14th, 2004, another update's going to fall into your lap.
-X- End Author's Notes –X-