-X- Introduction -X-
- Desolate Gail Redux
- Started on: 5-17-2004 / Posted on: 9-13-2004 / Checked on: 3-15-2005
- By: Zeronova
- Chapter 18: Hope and a drink

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

X- End Introduction -X-

Floating through bits of reality and sleep, Kiske was knocked awake, the militia truck jumping slightly, going over the unpaved terrain. He sat in one of the hundred seats on the left side of the truck, a harness that closed down on top of the soldier across both of his shoulders, clipping into the seat by ways of an old and battered belt, standing not on top of him. He didn't care for it, didn't need it. What would the use of a harness be when the only direction he could go from his seat would be to the seat next to him if they ran into anything from the front. In plus, the truck was so massive that it didn't matter, it'd crush through anything it came into contact with, even putting a fair hurting on the massive walls of Neo-Troy.

A few seats to his left and on the opposite side sat Jaygus, his head leaning back against the side of the truck, eye closed and resting. He was sitting near the back of the truck by the large double doors that emptied out the soldiers. Every twenty-five seats was a small exit ramp way to each side, that panel of doorway slowly opening by way of hydraulics, the soldiers filing out in a quick manner, though it was still very slow and cumbersome, so that if they were attacked en route full of soldiers, most would be slaughtered. Not the best design, but it definitely works in transportation. Towards the front of the long cabin sat Gestahl, next to the driver cabin, which seated two soldiers, specialized in driving, and nothing else. They were Seikishidan soldiers by name, but only the U.N. could train them, and thus they considered themselves U.N. troops, as did the Seikishidan soldiers to them.

A few soldiers sat inside the truck, the four that were playing cards earlier, as well as a sergeant who had authority control over the truck before Kiske came. The bulk of the soldiers, about five hundred, stayed at the base, conducting a clean up and rescue, as Gestahl had left the orders with his subordinate from the U.N. who took charge over the operation. To clean out the headquarters of bodies, save those you could, and do the best as to salvage of the facility were the orders. But, Kiske knew that the real intent of the U.N.'s clean up was to find out whatever they could to incriminate him, hide some little secrets inside the headquarters, such as the mistake sword of Darton's, and some files that were classified, to be burned if found they still existed.

"When we come to Bordeaux..." Gestahl said, seeing Ky was now awake partially, his voice demanding Ky's attention as it echoed and billowed down the metal frame of the elongated soldier-transport cabin, "...clean up. Get yourself together, next day we leave for Geneva. And" he said hesitantly, Kiske's gaze from the distance as fierce as if he was sitting next to him "get a suit." he said with a wry smile, turning back from where he was standing in the small adjoining doorway from the driver's cabin to the soldier's transport cabin. Ky didn't like Gestahl, his mere demeanor of a faked decency and politeness for his position, yet somehow, Ky couldn't place it, but he couldn't bring himself to place the same sort of malignant feelings for Gestahl as he had for most U.N. brass. Maybe it was because he knew Kliff, or his sense of decency wasn't a charade, but either way, Kiske wasn't in the mood for it. Also, Gestahl was disrespectful, as far as conduct. It was one thing if a soldier of the Seikishidan acted overly military, spouting sirs and saluting, and if he was completely disrespectful and absent of them, but a U.N. official he would not tolerate being in the tier without the drill and ceremony etiquette.

As Gestahl turned back around into the driver's cabin, the sun invading through the clear wind shield, the two seats holding the two soldiers, each seated in front of a panel of instruments and switches for the truck, the light found a bit of metal to glint off of under his jacket, it slowly falling down out of hiding from his jacket as he turned, but concealed as he turned.

The way to control a militia truck wasn't by way of electronics or all of those other fancy things, but was rather mechanical. To steer, you had to use a wheel like they did back in the years prior to the war, but it took massive strength to turn it, considering machines weren't trusted to that much extent, humanity in fear of its own inventions more so than they should have been. Also, adding to how hard it was to steer, the thing was huge, with considerable weight attached to it, so it wasn't the most maneuverable thing either. Two soldiers were required to operate it, and it kept them fairly fit, which is why they made a straight line for their destination, then let it ride smooth, hoping nothing got in their way, because if it did, it was about to be...out of their way, if you know what I mean. But, a little more on the militia truck. I said it holds two hundred, two rows of a hundred seats, separated into twenty-five seating quadrants with the two double doors on back for the first twenty five, then a door that slowly opened outward on the sides for every unit of twenty five. It had one wheel each side in the very front, then two a side where the driver and soldier transport cabins met, then a wheel for every door, two in the back near the double doors, totaling sixteen wheels. The wheels were a rough sort of metal, compacted and melted together, whatever materials they could muster together, then cast into the shape of the wheel, treads etched into them. While they were rough and would more than likely be very hard to roll, the power of the magic engine, coupled with the massive momentum it had once it started moving kept the wheels turning. They had been roughed down considerably since they were made, nearly smooth, and at least an inch bore in from where it was originally cast from the use, letting the underbelly of the truck sag to the ground even deeper, which wasn't good, considering it was already a low-riding vehicle, it's bottom barely clearing eight inches off of the ground. Reinforcing beams were welded all through and across the bottom, sides, and ceiling, as well as considerable welding to the sub sections of the truck, when it was assembled in pieces, instead of one long piece.

Ky took another look around, the few soldiers, Jaygus, Gestahl's body blocking in the invading sunlight, then back down at himself. The anesthetic in his back was starting to wear off, the tingling numbness fading, and a sense of a burning itch reaching out over his body, centralized at his back. He put it out of his mind, the cut only a flesh wound, and it would be healed in four or five days, given enough time. He shifted in the dipped seat, trying to get in a better position to rest, wincing as something poked him in the side. Reaching down, he felt along the grip of the knife, pulling it out.

"Darton's knife..." he said slowly, looking it over, the hilt still in his belt. It was standard, normal, nothing about it distinctive, besides the use it had endured over the past. It was blunt, but not to the point of being unusable. Suddenly, Kiske was hit with a blast of emotion, remembrance, feeling. Oh, I remember now what happened... His temporary amnesia from the race of the moment now slowly cured itself, the misting clouds being driven back by the fans of perception.

"Have faith, hope! Don't die!"

Ky slowly took the blade, reversing it so his thumb sat on the butt, the blade towards him, and brought the tip down to his belt buckle. The belt buckle of Seikishidan members was substantially large, made of an alloy metal, able to have the overlapping fabrics inside of it, as well as holding a belt tightly over the rest, and added protection. Ky looked down as he did, slowly tapping into it, both hands guiding the knife slowly, small screeches and distinct lullabies and cousins of what a Gear sounds like, soft enough so no one heard, but he sat there, slowly dragging the knife through and across it.

Removing the knife, he wiped the edges, bits of shaved metal rubbing off of them, a bit hot to the touch from the friction generated. He wiped his belt with his other hand, removing all excess, then looked down at what he wrote. Hope. One single word, a solitary statement inscribed into his belt, a one-word summary and constant reminder of what he stood for, why he lived, why others should live, his life and the world's. Hope.

These stupid convoys take too long, I hate them, they're boring, and we hardly ever find anything. Hope this time it's different, because I am bored. Bored, bored, bored. But, this is different, this is the big ol' Seikishidan Head Quarters where big man Ky Kiske himself was, where everything comes from and goes down from in the entire Western Europe. They haven't noticed us yet, and they probably won't, we always mingle in, it's our job. The girl's pervasive thoughts only ran rampant in her mind as she looked like she was doing something, her job constantly shifting from what she saw a real A.A. doing, even shifting to help a soldier they found, badly hurt and unconscious, to cleaning his wounds, after liberally injecting him with anesthetic, in fear she might do something wrong. She felt inwardly compassionate for the soldiers, even though not being an A.A., at least doing something in her charade that would matter in the end somewhat, before she got what she needed and left.

Ever since she arrived, she had been pocketing a few serums, needles, the occasional piece of clothing ripped from a soldier, and anything else she could find and maybe sell later. A loud banging emitted from the top of the low rising plateau, the gentle curve to the flat part, a mile and a half away from the sky light, where she had seen Ky Kiske walk from and by earlier, handing some other A.A. whatever she could grab out of the boxes and putting it on a tray, running it to her under the fake identity of Meg, the real Meg off somewhere else. Good thing the A.A. didn't look at her, but even if she did, she could've just said "Meg's gone, I'm filling in, in plus, do whatever I can to help Mr. Kiske", with a feigned smile. The soldiers over the hill were bashing in the remnants of the sky light so they could set up an easier method of getting in and out, because they were going to be posted here for a few days, cleaning up and salvaging what they could, one truck left, fairly empty, but carrying the biggest burden, the reason for the trip, Ky Kiske. It'd return in two days, in time to ferry the rest of the soldiers back. And, there wouldn't be a Gear attack now, a giant force just stormed the headquarters, any remnants the Seikishidan now had here would take out, as well as if they were to be attacked, Justice would have to send out a new squad to them, which would take easily three days to reach them not including time needed for preparation and everything else, so they were safe for four or five days, in the least, more time than they needed.

"Hey, we're needing a couple of A.A.'s." a soldier said, pacing down the side of the hill, which was also the end of the plateau, to the bustling network of A.A.'s and soldiers, most of their work centering around the two militia trucks. On hearing the soldier, the girl jumped to life, walking forward briskly.

"I'm open, sir," she said with an authority-liking smile and salute. Wow, I'm waxing it on good, this guy really believes me, and I don't think that these soldiers don't get a lot of interaction with the opposite gender, so it makes me job easier.

"Well, report up the sky light, they need a few to help with the clean up, ma'am." he said, with an affectionate smile, almost coming onto her with the ma'am in the end sounding a bit too friendly. She nodded with the faked smile, then walked off, wiping it off her face, silently mocking him as she walked away, him looking for a few more A.A.'s. A brisk walk and half an hour later, she came to stop in front of the twenty foot wide circle, the grass and life growing around it so much that even walking up, she couldn't tell it was there until she was on top of it.

A sergeant with his hands clasped behind his back, looking in on the sight turned as he heard her come up, waiting for her to specify herself to him. The U.N. dislike spread through a lot of the soldiers, yet they also were friendly to the A.A.'s, since they were women, and they all liked women, especially since they hardly ever got to see them.

"Action Agency private" Quick, think of a name. Tell him the truth, not like he'll know who you are anyway. "Bianca Renard, reporting in haste of service from another officer."

"Yeah, yeah, we need some of you down there to sort around the bodies, do your whole U.N. thing." he said, nodding down to the hole.

"Yes sir." she said, saluting him and walking over to the edge. The metal pole was still set up over the hole, dug into the ground on each side with the thick rail between them, a rope hung over it like a pulley. She followed the line down with here eyes, where it was securely tied and bolted to part of the railing on Floor F. She looked back at the sergeant, a questioning glance, and his eyes motioning to a harness lying on the ground next to her. She obliged, putting it on, strapping it over the wire, then sliding down. A soldier caught her as she met with Floor F, him reluctant to help her, polite and courteous, as opposed to the strict and silent sergeant above.

"Most of the carnage is on Floor C, so you might want to start there, or be thorough and start on Floor A and work your way through." the soldier said, unclipped her harness and whistling up to his superior, who looked over the edge, nodding as he was about to send the harness back up. Bianca turned and thanked him politely, her feminine qualities bounding off of her, taking full use of them as the soldiers, well, most, were dumb founded by them. It helped she was a pretty girl, so mingling in and getting through the battle zones littered with Seikishidan was usually simple. She had a brisk walk to the side of Floor F, about a mile, which she was just at about thirty minutes prior and twenty-five feet up. The stairway had been destroyed, but the Seikishidan were quick to clear it out, the rubble and broken stairs removed, lying all around the small arc of each floor, the central pathway barren, so a simplistic ladder set up, standard issue, as well as the metal pole, held on the under side of the militia trucks, pulled out when needed, like extra swords and medical supplies.

She climbed down to Floor C where the stairs started again. The stairs had been destroyed from Floor C and up, the ones below only sustaining minor damage, like a few steps missing, the metal twisted and mangled, but still able to be walked on, hazardly though. Her feet stepped on the cold cement of Floor A, the gaps on every other floor non-existent, the crawling expanse, forty-five feet wide and stretching for about a mile and a half daunting.

Time to get to work, gal. Slowly, she started sorting through bodies, checking pockets, going through the Gears as well, searching for valuables able to be sold. She had no remorse for her job, no real caring or indecency for her actions, only mild neglect for those who were dead. She continued searching, coming across a sight she was accustomed to in her shady business. Every so often, a big splat of blood, browned by the time elapsed, and pieces of sinew and flesh that used to be a head lying around. She counted three total, obviously they had fell from considerable heights to have such an impact. Hmm, look at this. Pick pocketing one dead soldier, lying face up, she found a small trinket, one that looked as if it belonged on a bracelet or something. Another soldier held a picture in his pockets, obviously of family, her tossing it off in neglect. The next soldier she scoured was lying on top of a dead Gear, who was lying on top of bits of spread cement and a bit of ripped railing, torn right through the metal like licorice. The Gear had hit the metal with enough force so that parts of its body lay through the small metal slats in the railing, its organs splitting through its ribcage, and the soldier lying on top of the Gear, in a noticeably better physical shape.

Near the body was a sword, about fifteen feet away, catching her eye not only from the glint of the sun off of it, but of its obtuse shape. She hadn't seen a sword like it before, it wasn't a standard Seikishidan issue one, it was somehow different, somehow unique. Picking up the sword, looking over the three arcs on its sharpened side that seemed to each arc back further, until the third one hit the back blunt edge, making a stabbing point. It was definitely Seikishidan issue, having the standard oval looking hilt and triangulated grip-bottom. Gotta slip this one past the soldiers, it'll definitely fetch a nice price back in Neo-Troy. Let's see what he's got. She walked over to the soldier, a private with brown hair, trimmed short in the back, but the front long enough so it reached below his chin, blotting out his face, though it was now in distinct, thick slats, his hair matted together and dried to whisps over his face that played a half-open mouth that seemed to not have taken in air in hours, from the dry cracked lips to the pale skin.

Hmm, he's cute. Wonder if he can match that face with what he's got to sell. She reached through his pockets, finding nothing, looking in other pockets; maybe he had something hidden inside of his coat. She looked all over like she had to the other soldiers, patting down his chest, starting at the bottom, reaching upward as she did. Her hands patted up against his upper left side, a scream emitting the dead body, shocking her beyond belief. She fell backward, scared and gasping. Did he just scream! What the hell, isn't he dead! She stood up, rubbing her face over with her hand, trying to calm herself. She was breathing heavily, her own heart thumping inside of her chest like it was going to burst free and go running. She wasn't afraid of being on and in battle zones, but she had already seen a few dead Gears, there might be more, and that sentiment stuck to the back of her mind, that scream coming from him only bumping it more forward. Walking slowly over, trying to calm her erratic breathing, she could see the soldier now was more alive, breathing in slowly and shallowly, eyes clenched, fists balling and unballing as he did so.

She turned back up, looking out of the sky light, where a solder on Floor F looked down at her confused, and the sergeant looking in as well, the scream piercing each of their concentration.

"We need some serious attention down here!" she yelled, trying to keep up her A.A. facade. She looked down at the body, his eyes opened slightly, looking at her. "Alright kiddo, I'm gonnna get you some real help. Don't worry," she said, leaning over him. He closed his eyes again from looking at her, new blood starting to bleed out of his right arm, a gash through the upper portion of it, deep to the bone. It wasn't bleeding the second before, and he wasn't breathing, or if he was, it was incredibly shallow. He was probably dying, and I woke him from it, he wasn't bleeding from his arm that I could see. Could have been clotted up or whatever, but he's alive now. He looked over at her again, swallowing hard in his pain.

"An...anes...thetic..." he mumbled out between clenched teeth. She nodded slowly, standing up, reaching into her pocket at a slow pace, leisurely, completely opposite of his pain-induced demeanor. She slowly stuck it into his left shoulder, knowing he woke from the pain there and his body convulsing over that central point, afraid to move it. He winced, his body leaning into the needle in pain, then she injected it. Slowly, he relaxed, calmed, his breathing in open mouthfuls slowly dying down to a low gasping.

"There you go." she said, comforting in her A.A. facade. She was only playing the part for gain, but that didn't mean she was completely lifeless to those who needed help. She picked up the sword she dropped previously, looking it over, standing above the soldier as ones above bustled to lower down a harness or something. She noticed he was looking at her and the sword; his eyes open a bit more now that his pain subsided slightly.

"This yours?" she said sweetly, holding it affectionately. He only swallowed once again, unable to speak or talk. Then, she put the tip into the ground slowly, leaning over the sword, looking straight down above him as she towered above. With one free hand, the other resting on the butt of the sword, she delicately brushed his hair to one side, looking down at him, reflected by panic and fear stricken eyes. "You are cute, but you need some work, kiddo." she let slip from her poison-lined, sweet lips. A noise echoed through the empty Seikishidan building from above. Her eyes found the source of the sound, a basket like harness so the soldier could lie flat as they hoisted him up. When it came down enough for her to reach it, she directed it to the side, the metallic sides holding the mesh canopy-like bedding clanging on the cement. "I can't lift him, I'm gonna need help." she yelled back up, afraid to even touch him.

His eyes traced her back and forth, her movements amazing him from his state of disability, lying on the bed of a Gear, cement clod and a railing.

"I don't know how you survived, I thought you were dead," she said, leaning over him again. He smiled slightly, wincing in pain. "Well, you got a name, survivor?" she said sweetly, using her feminine charm any way she could. When she was on these little charades, she liked to live it up, act in anyway she felt, and see the responses, what would happen. Not like they could catch her, and if they did, what would they do? Dismiss her of service?

"Darton" he choked out, clenched jaws of pain making his words muffled, but she struggled for a minute, lipping what he said back and whispering it, until she said the name back questioningly, his slight nod, resulting in an added wince of pain signifying correctness.

"Well, Darton, I'm Bianca. And, I'll be honest with you" she said, looking around her. She could hear the soldiers' boots combing down the ladder, the loud metallic thunks of each step echoing, like a time limit before she could get back to work. "I'm not a real A.A." He blinked a few times, unsure of what to think, but she answered that too. "Oh, don't worry, there will be plenty of people to help you above, you'll be fine, but I'm gonna be taking this for my service. I did give you the shot and motioned for help, so I think it is in order." she said sweetly, toying with the sword. His eyes suddenly changed from their pleading painful state to a more serious demeanor, despite his erratic breathing.

"Oh? You don't want me to? Sorry kiddo, nothing you can do 'bout it. Finder's keepers, and I need to bring back something to justify going out here to save your sorry asses. Don't worry, I'm sure you might find it in a pawn shop if you ever swing by Neo-Troy." She loved taunting and being every way effeminate as she could, but her words showing a bit of torturous tendencies. She liked to play with people, work them over and get what she wanted or needed before leaving them to whatever it was life had planned for them, not caring. On mention of Neo-Troy, he seemed to liven up again, as much as an unmoving man in extreme amounts of pain with a gashed arm, a broken collar bone, dislocated arm, and a whole slew of cuts, bruises, abrasions, and utter exhaustion could. "How about this, kiddo. I'll make you a deal," she said ever so sweetly, leaning over the sword, using it as a cane, her face about a foot over his, on the small, elevated hill of a Gear, and everything under it.

"When you get all healed up, you find me in Neo-Troy, we'll have a drink, and I'll tell you where I sold this little beauty, deal?" He seemed slightly enraged by her cockiness, utter disrespect of him and the sword, as well as remaining sickeningly sweet all the while. "Good, that settles it. See ya, Darton, and I'll be waiting for that drink." she said, stepping back, hearing the soldiers approaching behind. They rushed up, looking at Darton who looked back with frantic eyes.

"He's badly hurt, unable to move. Left shoulder has been severely damaged, as well as his right arm having a very bad laceration across the deltoid region, down to the bone. I think the left is shattered, as well as dislocated, judging by how he's lying." The Seikishidan soldiers nodded, running over to Darton, lying atop the small hill of rubble and destruction. The soldiers were quick to act on her words, wanting to impress her, so they both grabbed Darton, one by his upper body, one by his feet, lifted him, and placed him on the cart quickly, despite Darton's muffled scream of pain as the soldier grabbed him under both arm pits, pushing up on his shoulder. They yelled up to the sergeant above, who gave orders to other soldier standing above, and slowly, the metallic bed ascended, his eyes transfixed on Bianca all the while, a smile plastered on her face, waving slightly. The two soldiers talked a little, then went off to their duties, neither noticing the sword Bianca was leaning up against.

"Anyway, back to work." she said, sighing a little, then going to look at the rest of the Gears and soldiers, whatever things she could sell back at Neo-Troy.

-X- Author's Notes –X-
- Zeronova's Notes:
- And thus, we have the introduction of Bianca, who is a lot more feminine this time around, as well as a new way of introducing her, and her to Darton. I think her whole dirty-business work, coupled with how sweet she acts, is a great character, and one I am looking forward to using. Though, you'll be saying now "But wait, the Seikishidan now have Darton, wasn't he supposed to be technically dead or something?" Well, just wait. Oh yes, considering how much of a war-torn world image I try and give this, and expect of GG fan fiction, I try and heavily influence how things work around that (such as the militia trucks, which could easily be skewed as "unbelievable in this world", so I try and explore that a bit more so it sounds feasible). Also, the A.A., Seikishidan clean up, everything else. So, we start to get into the dirt of Arc II, enjoy.
-X- End Author's Notes –X-