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.

5. Arc 1: Waking to find eternal sleep

-X- Introduction -X-
- Desolate Gail Redux
- Started on: 5-17-2004 / Posted on: 6-14-2004 / Checked on: 3-8-2005
- By: Zeronova
- Chapter 5: Waking to find eternal sleep

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

X- End Introduction -X-

A slow resolve moved over the eight soldiers, one unconscious. Sleep clawed at their eyes and ached in their muscles, numbed their mind and tingled in their limbs, but they jumped awake at the slightest noise, just out of fear of more Gears. Murmurs of men drifting in and out of sleep slowly emitted, as well as a few people shifting from their sitting positions on the wall, grabbing up sword, looking around, and drifting back into rest.

"Kliff…what should I do in a time like this?" Ky murmured, half asleep. His own words echoed in the emptiness, and met back to him, waking him. He looked around, seeing the other nodding soldiers in bits of consciousness and sleep-induced hazes. Slowly, he blinked a few times. How much time has passed? We're wasting time! They'll be back! Get up! Slowly, Ky pushed off of the ground, the Fuuraiken in his hand throbbing to life in his hand, the undulating pressure in every beat, rhythmically, enough to set a monotone to. Standing up, his knees popped a little, a bit of a pain shooting though his legs before the muscles felt normal, the muscles jumping out of rest and the bones subtly cracking into the right places, relieving a bit of tension from the awkward sitting angle.

"Soldiers!" Ky said with an authoritative voice. The sleeping seven lobbed their heads up, to see Ky standing, his head swiveling to look at all of them. They jumped up, pushing off walls, grunting as their joints moved back to life. In a voice from all, the word sir echoed from each of them, in different tones and volumes. "We move out now. We need to get out of here." He said.

"And him?" the sergeant said, designating the mysterious unconscious private.

"Him…" Ky said, with a preordained disdain for the man who used his weapon. "You" he said, pointing out a private, who stood erect at the notion from a lazy, yawning stage "pick him up, and bring him with us." The soldier kneeled down and threw the body over his shoulder. "Now, move out. We're heading to the front of this floor to get out through the hangar doors. Once we're out, we'll take the walk to the ruins of Paris." The soldiers saluted, and started walking to the front of Floor C, wordless. The general feeling amongst them advocated the uneasiness they all felt. Who are they to be with the single most important man in the world? Fighting with him? Walking with him? This'd be a story for the grandchildren.

The walk along to the front of Floor C was interesting. Coming upon bodies of Gears, men, broken floors, broken bodies, weapons without hands to wield them, and hands without any arm on them. The bodies had dried blood around them, brown from the lapse of time. Lifeless soldiers staring up to God, which didn't stare back. Gears who were lifeless in life and in death, and still retained that aspect. Along the way, Ky kneeled down to close the eyes of the lifeless soldiers, give prayers among the dead, and give enough of God's graces to the dead, but he did so quickly, missing a few and saying the prayer for the anonymous few. After the first hundred, the bodies became too many, his prayers too few. The soldiers following behind his lead had no words, only walked forward, heads down.

Oh, I remember that guy. He had a good sense of humor. And that guy over there, could eat a hundred servings. Now they're dead. Jeez, can you believe it?

Their words were not said, but conveyed in their walk, shifty eyes, and general aura. Sadness filled every pore in their body, flooded their lungs, bloodstream, down their stomach, and flossed them like a bead on a string. The bodies lined the walkway as far as the eye could see, and the opposite walkway on the other side as littered with the waste from both sides of the coin. The dual enmity between them both showed in the trash left. Bodies and lives thrown away to the ideals of humanity surviving. Many thought humanity had its own due date, an expiration. Others knew only the war against Gears, and it was life. It was there, an eight-hundred pound gorilla on their back that was common, nothing new to think about, it's life. Then, there were the soldiers and people who knew this was the struggle for humanity. Those in the lap of security was provided by them, so their own ideas of the war being useless and trivial as only because of the work the Seikishidan did.

Seeing the rows and lines of bodies only provoked Kiske to know his role. He must end the role they had. This was the hundred-and-first year of the war. Last year, a lot of people had thought the war should be ended, it was the century anniversary, the war needs to end. But, when Undersn appointed Kiske, the entire morale was lost. People lost it, they didn't think a kid could lead humanity to victory, and on December 31st, it was lost. He couldn't end it in the hundredth year, and through the hundred-and-first year, people now didn't care. They thought another hundred years was inevitable, it was life, this wasn't going to end, and this was life in its entirety. Kiske thought differently. As a leader, he wouldn't sit idly to watch humanity be crushed under the foot of its creations, and even if the hundredth year was for naught, he would end it as soon as he could. This was something not able to be differentiated or argued, this was God's will. Humanity has to live, he would lead them. A lamb into the lion's den, he would come out on his feet, scathed and broken, but as God helped those in the past, Ky knew he was also in God's pursuit, ideals holy, and actions too.

Only inwardly, his prayers to God were as numerous as the bodies lining the catwalks. Prayer in hoping the Gears had moved out, the Floor C transport hangar wasn't destroyed, the bodies would all find graves once they recuperated their forces, and many others. Though, like a splinter in his mind, that man constantly floated over his thoughts. Who was he? How could he just pick up my sword and destroy those Gears? Maybe he couldn't control it, he did go unconscious and basically let loose far too great of the blade's power, but he has to be strong of mind to be able for that… Loking back, Kiske saw the private, eyes down, carrying the mysterious other soldier. He was Seikishidan, no doubt, but he looked familiar, yet somehow foreign. He couldn't wait to meet this interesting character.

Making his way further, Ky started to use the tip of the Fuuraiken as a walking stick, stabbing it lightly into the ground, traversing over the bodies. His feet making sure not to tread on bodies of humans, but forcefully smashing the carcasses of Gears. An arid stank of death permeated the air, like stale fish left out for days. It was constant, like an attacker, that never left. Fanning the smell away from your nose only gave a brief second of solace, before the stench filled the now odorless trench left by the fanning, seeping in to invade wherever it could.

Each footstep, one after another, only laid more bodies in front of them to go after, the fog dissipating, like removing the cover from a long awaited present, to find coal in place. Rows of dead, splotches and pools of blood dried and brown, like they were taken from their master, and tried to crawl back, but died to soon to find home.

"Wait, sir." One of the four privates said. Four privates, two lieutenants, and one sergeant made their motley crew, with the commander Kiske and the unconscious fifth private. Ky turned around, inquisitive to the nature of the soldier's direct statement, followed with an absentminded sir he neglected. "Sir, this is my…friend." He said, kneeling down to a body of another private, left arm severed, blood dripping from the mouth, and a bit of blood left on his face, dropped from another soldier, who lie next to him, the blood not his own. In the stink of death, which blood was which didn't matter, it was all equally human.

"It's regrettable he died, soldier, but this is a war and—" Kiske cut himself off, the soldier looking back up at him with tears in his eyes. Now was not a good time to be a leader, especially when death permeated them like an irremovable stain from their souls, which would stick with them years from now. Ky turned around from the soldier, mourning the dead, looking forward at the seemingly endless catwalk on the right side of Floor C. He surmised they had walked about a mile after an hour or two rest, and they had another half a mile or so to go. The sobs of the soldier behind him flew past him, Kiske being a block for the sound, but it still flooded past him. The childish rule of "if I can't see you, you can't see me" seemed to loosely apply at Kiske not trying to humanize the dead.

When putting faces to units and personalities to soldiers, he would lose the authority he worked to attain. The dead are more than just lost souls if they were people, he would too mourn. But, he had to be a leader, and lead humanity to a victory, instead of extinction. If the humans he commanded became people, he would lose control. Sending a person to die was harder than sending a platoon of nameless soldiers who served the purpose. He couldn't get attached, he had to be individualistic and a leader amongst men mostly older than him. At sixteen, what kind of God could bear the burden of saving humanity on a kid? Ky often felt like Christ, given something he could not comprehend or change, but had to adapt and accept, whether he wanted to or not. Recognition of what he was given was imperative, but comprehension was not.

Christ was God's son by birth, burdened with gifts to help humanity, but had to die for their sins, and he knew this even from the beginning. Yet, he still continued his life through because he knew he had to do exactly that, and not for God, but for humanity. God was the central axis of the Seikishidan, a very religious sanction of knights, like police with a Bible instead of a badge. The religious undertones of the organization determined every move and motive, despite some of the members not even believing in the strict Roman Catholicism of the Seikishidan. God's creation was man, and they were created in his image. In man's image, they created Gears, except Gears backfired, but how much different is that from Adam? Christ was killed by God's own creation because of the sentience he bestowed on them, rather unwillingly. Gears were given sentience under the secret project in 2074, and that was unwanted, so Gears were sent from Eden and started a war to reclaim the planet. The difference was that humans couldn't wage war against its creators, only showing that we didn't prepare ourselves or Gears for the inevitable, as God had those backfire plans.

I'm going to stop the story for a second because I believe that as a man living in this time, I must say something. For all of the terror told by media, soldiers, and God of the terrors of what Gears are, I have never seen one live, well, that up close and alive, they've always been far off from me. The most I have seen was a wasted battlefield, and not even then did I see them as a mortal enemy so much more as a poor soul. Their deaths were somewhat justified in a humane fashion of killing them, and releasing them from Justice. Also, Justice, the name of our oppressor, isn't it ironic? Justice fought to kill humans for the Justice he thought he should bestow. Hell, even Justice himself thinks he is God, waging a holy war against all humans to purge the land of what ails it. As much as his own pursuits are realized, it is ironic a Gear would do that, want to kill humans, that is. But, an atheist to God would be as bad, wouldn't it? Except for someone to kill God, they'd have to meet Him, and know He existed, so how could you kill Him? He cannot die, and if you saw Him, you'd be a believer, which is where the faith comes in. I'm jumping ahead of myself, just anxious to usurp the authority I have as a writer to tell you what I think, and I should, but not yet.

"Ready?" Ky asked, tilting his head back to the mourning soldier. The private closed the eyes of his dead friend, and stood up.

"You know, they used to tell me that they'd give a eulogy for the dead in times of peace, recalling their life and shit." The soldier said, recomposing himself. "Think I could give him one before we move on?" The other soldiers were all standing around, looking at the bodies, hard chiseled expressions on their faces, trying to emulate Ky. They leaned on walls, sat down, stood over the railing, none of them seeming to notice the grip of death around them.

"Get yourself together, you can give it to him later. Right now, worry about staying alive and not joining him. If we make it out of here, we'll clean this all up and commemorate every single of them dead, like God would want. We'd risk our lives to stay, and God would agree. Let's move." Ky said, taking his first steps forward, the other soldiers quickly starting to walk behind him. The mourning soldier wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looked back down at the corpse, remembering the face, where he was, and made a silent vow to come back. Then, the soldier jogged up to catch the back of the procession. Let's skip forward a little, and just say they found a lot more bodies of Gears and men, and finally got to the end of Floor C in the hangar, where they assembled earlier and evacuated back out of after. The gaps created earlier in Floor C were traversed by using pieces of broken railing to go across, like an outdoor survival skill. Now, to the hangar.

Coming up on the large entryway to the hangars, the walls on the sides were bashed in, crumbling cement holding up an equally arched top that had been busted in by the flood of Gears earlier. The cement inside looked like a cratered moon with the slaughtered soldiers lying in pieces and footprints of the Gears left in the cement like reminders of the deed done. The doors to the outside, all sixteen of them, the large loading doorways with the vertically sliding sheets of metal allowing supplies and troops to be moved in and out easily, were all collapsed. After the initial surge of Gears drove back the humans, the Gears received an order to destroy the doorways. So, they bashed the sides into rubble, the ceiling into chunks, and toppled them all together in front of every doorway, crudely blocking them off from escape, but effective. Justice covered all of his bases, except for the variable of the resilience of humanity itself.

"We're fucked!" the soldier carrying the unconscious one said. He dropped the body, a thump emitting as he did and a grunt from the body hitting the ground. "We're entirely fucked! They've locked us in! We can't get out! We're screwed!" he yelled frantically, almost hysterically, running to each doorway, sifting the boulders as best he could, running to the next, seeking exit, and finding none.

"Hey!" Ky yelled at him, but he did not respond. After reaching the last doorway, putting all of his strength into trying to remove a chunk of ceiling panel that had been ripped out and dropped from some sort of reptilian Gear (what other type could have done that with the forty foot high ceilings in the hangar?), the soldier collapsed in front of the doorway, sobbing a little.

"I don't want to die here…." he sobbed, between gasps, a childish wane in his voice. Kiske slowly walked over to him, the other soldiers all standing stationary, like the other was insane. Kiske stood behind him, the soldier sensing his presence, and looked up at him.

"I don't need dead weight. You want to sit here and cry, go ahead, but I need soldiers who will fight. We'll find another way out, and you can help us, or stay here and cry." Kiske said without resolve, in black and white. The soldier nodded, composing himself. He was only eighteen, and unprepared for the war, but Ky gave him some reassurance, considering Ky was only sixteen, but had the resolve of twice that. "As for you, we're looking for another way out." He said, looking back to the other six, nodding.

"For now, we're going to stay here and take rest. We have two entrances to guard, on the far left and right side connecting to the Floor C catwalks. Unless the Gears bash through these piles of rubble, we're safe for now. We'll stand guard every hour or so, one soldier a post. Yell if you see anything and we'll stand ground. Try and get him awake." Ky said, pointing his hand to each of the items as he spoke. "I'll take first watch left" pointing to the left doorway "and you" pointing at the sergeant red level soldier "you take first right post." The soldier tried to form words to ask why he was, and not some low level soldier, but saluted Ky, and went to his post. Higher authorities, gotta abide.

"Now, you got time to yourself, Kiske." Ky whispered to himself, as he walked to the doorway, his steps echoing in pace with the sergeant who walked to the other door unilaterally. Each step of his was mocked by the following soldier in perfect unison. Getting to the empty doorway, his vision was overcome with the sight before him. Bodies lying as far as the eye could see, the mist from the outside dispersing through a few tiny holes in the barricades as the day heated up with the sun higher in the day, about noon. The rays of light stabbed through the mist like rains of arrows on invading enemies in the dark ages. Spears cutting through the low fog seemed to shoo it off the side of Floor C, falling off the edge and floating into nothingness from there, the flow from the outside cut off from the barricaded entryways, and the skylight above Floor F being the single disperser of tumultuous, invading ambience to the death filled H.Q.

The bodies along Floor C were strewn about like puppets cut from their master's strings. Bodies piled on the sides, hanging off of the railing limp, lying face up, face down, on their side, pieces floating in their own pool of blood, like a solitary island, removed from the continent it came from, unable to return. It almost seemed surreal. How could so many bodies be on this twenty foot wide walkway, all this blood and death, of men who were alive at breakfast? Sometimes, death itself infatuated Ky. How life could transform to death through the swing of a sword, through the spilling of blood, the life, the actual person from inside flesh and cells, could leave, disperse. A soul collected by God, through the open wounds and last breath, it floated out and up to Heaven for God's safe keeping, like a box of rocks that will never be put back to the gardens.

"We'll give you just graves, brothers. God will give you justice." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bashed and crushed door frame leading out to Floor C, exhaling upward in deep thought. Kliff, I could use your help. What would you do here? How would tell these soldiers to keep fighting, when everyone they knew died and is lying on the ground they just walked over, without the ability to mourn or bury them, much less give them God's rights for passage? Sometimes Kliff, I don't think I'm ready. I can't handle this war, saving humanity is up to no one but me, can I really be given that burden? I know you'd tell me that Christ had a similar one, but I am not Christ, should I be burdened with the weight of the world when I do not have the holy blood flowing through me? Kliff…I trust your decision in giving me this, but I do not think I can handle this. What made you hand over the control to me? That little smile you gave me as you handed me the Fuuraiken, that sparkle in your eyes couldn't make me say "no thanks" in a thousand times over, but I question why. Your pure demeanor gave me that answer, your reassured look and smile, knowing it through your old bones that I was the one to lead, but why, Kliff?

"We got him awake!" a soldier shouted, ousting Ky from his inward reflection. His eyes shot open and his head swiveled over to the sound of the voice, a private leaning over the unconscious one, who now moved with little vitality. "Sir, he's awake!" the soldier shouted a bit jovial, the first thing going right of the day. Pushing off the ground with one hand, Ky stood up, looking over to the six soldiers huddling over the one, the seventh walking from his opposite post to see the waking up attraction.

"Move" Ky said, pushing two soldiers out of the way to see the groggy private. "Who are you?" Ky stabbed quickly with his tongue, still a bit venomous from this private using his sword. The soldier sat up slowly, his hand rubbing his throbbing temple, an aching shooting through him with every movement, the blood re-circulating and his vision shaky.

"Darton" he said, looking up slowly, then realizing whom he was talking to. "Uh…Quint Darton, sir. Private fourth-class." He said, trying to erase the previous remark, which was out of order with a commanding officer. "Sir, where am I?" he said slowly, hesitantly, his head circling the room, from soldier's face to soldier's face, broken doorways, cracked ground, blood dripping in from the edges of the room, bodies left dead where they lie, like an exhibit at a museum roped off from touch.

"Well, private, what are you doing on the ground? Get up." Ky said seething, standing up on his accord, waiting for Darton to follow him.

"Yes sir…" Quint said under his breath, like it was an added bonus to his words, somehow unjust for Kiske. A gift to a party who did not deserve it.

"Private, we're currently holding ground here at the cargo bay of Floor C. Now that you're awake, let's get moving." Ky said, turning from Darton, starting his pace to the right door.

"Wait, sir" Quint said, pleadingly at first, then repeated it with more force until Ky turned. 'What…happened?" he said hesitantly, the faces of the soldiers surrounding him set in stone.

"What happened? Well, first of all, we just lost all but nine of the Seikishidan forces in the Seikishidan headquarters, including you, but that'll soon be eight." Quint's eyes questioned Ky's heavy words, Kiske being a bit frontal in his anger towards Quint for the indiscretion before. "As soon as we make it out of here, Darton, I am dismissing you of service of the Seikishidan." Darton was perplexed, but then his gaze turned from confusion to understanding, and triumphant cockiness, in defense.

"Well, good then, Kiske." Quint said defiantly, re-evaluating his posture and respect after a moment. Ky turned around abruptly, his head lowered, but eyes standing straight like laser guides on bombs from above.

"Excuse me?" Ky asked instantly, a bit of malice in his words, but coming off with faux sincerity, only magnifying his anger.

"If you're going to dismiss me from service of the Seikishidan, why should I call you 'sir' or have any respect for your authority?" Darton asked, folding his arms over his chest, a smirk. The surrounding soldiers all murmured amongst each other. Is he standing up to the Commander? He's out of his mind. What a disgraceful little bastard. Ky stepped back a little, the words hitting him hard. He hadn't expected this. He expected Darton to cower and ask for forgiveness in using his weapon, asking to be let back in, to fight for God.

"Soldier, you dare defy me?"

"Obviously, I'm now out of the Seikishidan, right?" Quint said, waiting for his confirmation answer, but Kiske stood taut, no words escaping his lips, and Darton continuing, as if the "yes" had been muttered. 'Well, I don't need to travel with you, do I? I'm dismissed; I can do as I please. And with my new found freedom, I'm going to get out of here." Darton said, taking the point and walking ahead of Kiske.

"You will not!" Ky shouted, his hand instinctively reaching for the Thunderseal.

"Oh really? You don't have authority over me anymore, you released me from the service of the Seikishidan." Ky knew he was defeated with words, and his hand slipped off of the hilt, his hand untensing itself and slowly removing itself, hesitantly.

"I said once we get out of here. We're not yet."

"Then I quit." Darton said, his words parrying Ky's now defensive ones. What is with this soldier? Thought Ky. He acts so nonchalant, so…disrespectful. He reminds me of…him… We'll get to the "him" later in the story, it's a biggie.

"Fine." Ky looked back to the other seven soldiers, who were lost among the quarrel. How could this private be so disrespectful and abusive of Ky Kiske, the savior of mankind? How could Ky be submissive to this…arrogant fool? Ky couldn't lower his authority to this soldier and lose his authority on the rest, and he couldn't let this one soldier best him. "Quint Darton?" Ky said, reassuring the name before continuing, "in the name of the Seikishidan, I request your assistance in getting out of here. Once we're out, you're officially released of service of the Seikishidan, until then, on behalf of the Holy Order, I beseech your assistance." Ky said, his tone low and voice like sand paper. He hated the words, and he tried to nail the point through he was imploring for the Holy Order, because if he said he needed more men to help get out of here, he would be the one at fault, but in asking for the Seikishidan, he saved himself face.

Quint laughed a little at Ky's request. "Fine, in the name of the Seikishidan, I'll help you, until we get to my room on Floor C, and from there, I'm going my way." Quint said, laying his terms clear, turning to face Ky face to face.

"Well, we're on Floor C as it is, so your room, and bust." Ky said. He turned his head to the seven soldiers behind him "Move out, we're going to Floor F before nightfall. We'll figure out escape from there." Ky said, the affirmative nods from the soldiers reinforcing his plan. Kiske walked forward, past Darton, both locking eyes and then Kiske continuing on. Darton laughed a little as Kiske passed him, followed by the rest of the soldiers, unsheathing their swords, and shooting equally malicious stares at Quint.

"I don't think you guys like me very much," he said with a grin. His comment was met with someone spitting on the ground as they walked past him. "Nope, not at all" he said under his breath, falling behind the last person who walked by. Scooping up the weapon of a fallen Gear, he pried it from the clammy, rigormortus stricken hand, wiping the handle off from the sticky blood. It was a straight long blade, rusted on one side, and curved at the top, like a pick. The handle was part of the long straight rusted edge, except it had been crudely sawed in an inch or two to give it a smaller grip circumference, and wrapped in some dirty, oily cloth.

"And our heroes walk off into the sunset to lands unknown" Quint murmured under his breath following the last soldier's footsteps out of the door, the echoes of plodding feet rushing back to him, like a finger taunting him to catch up, each of the reverberating echoes echoing to not stay where he was, move your feet to keep up. The words were something he had seen in an old reproduced broadcast of film from before the war, and before the turn of the 21st century even, a Western they called it. Such things were very few and far between in this war torn world, and even books, asides from the Bible, were precious commodities. The Bible itself was in mass abundance, providing people with the undoubtable certainty in their lives in a God and a purpose, not to mention the Seikishidan gave them out freely like air to any who opened their mouth to choke on it.

-X- Author's Notes –X-
- Zeronova's Notes:
- Well, there was the chapter. Quint's awake, and we already have him and Ky fighting. Plenty more where that came from. For all of you just starting DG, I hope you're liking it, and for all of those coming from the old version to the new, you'll notice all the new conventions and little nuances that I think make it much better. One of my main goals is to make a world for the Crusades, a living, breathing Earth that Guilty Gear takes place in, since the series lacks that depth and most fan fiction stories lack to set a convincing backdrop. Anyway, next Monday, expect the next, as per usual!
-X- End Author's Notes –X-