Welcome back!

I was hoping to post this chapter yesterday, but I had trouble bringing myself into Gaston's dark mind-set and decided to wait another day.

ImagineATale, this is only the beginning, it will only be a matter of time before these thoughts become natural to him. Hiding the horror behind something familiar is the first step.

TrudiRose, those moments will be coming, the war has just started for him after all. I believe LeFou was there myself, so he'll make an entry eventually.

3431jess, thank you for the compliment! I try to go inside his mind as much as possible.

Chapter 3

It's been days since you were shot in the woods and after the shock wore off, you remembered the face of your prey. The face of a young man, not much older than you. What is this war doing to you?

Your injury was minor and you look at the dressed wound. It was a weakness, intolerable. You rip off the bandage and throw it to the ground. You see the closed, stitched up wound and touch it, you wince. You dress, but leave the bandage off, you are not weak.

Your name is called and you report, you and seven other men are send out to explore the area for any enemies. You strike a conversation with two of your comrades, they tell you how they miss home and wished they hadn't come here. They tell you of all the pain and suffering they had. You start to seethe, how dare they complain, you are the one with a stitched up arm. You tell them to stop their complaining, how giving in to the pain means death and how you'll never give into it. You see them shaking their heads, but you don't care, you'll prove to those fools that giving in to the pain means death.

You talk some more and you notice two in your group limp, you make a mental note of this fact, they would most probably be the first targets of the enemy. Glancing over the rest one seems to avoid anything strenuous with his right arm, the rest appear to be faring better.

Noises can be heard around you, you hear a slight click and you recognise the sound, you quickly pull the collars of the two men in front of you, you all fall to the ground just as the gunshot rings. One of the men with a limp falls to the ground bleeding. The two men you took down with you look at you gratefully, knowing you potentially saved their lives. They quickly ready their rifles and another shot is heard from the side of the road. The other limping man has just gone down, the enemy was targeting the weak once first as you predicted they would. You and the two on the ground quickly discover where the two shooters are. But the first shooter is ready to fire again, you make a quick decision and shout to your comrade with the injured arm to bite through his pain of his wounded arm and do something. The shot rang out and the injured soldier goes down, immediately following that shot your comrades have pulled their own triggers and you hear the screams of the two soldiers on the roadside. You walk up to the first one with your rifle and smirk, you thank him for ridding you of the weak soldier, before you shoot him through the head.

Another comrade took care of the other one. On the road you all look at each other and glance at the three fallen. You thank them for being weak, making such good targets. Your comrades look at you in shock, you smirk at them. You tell them they were mere tools for your survival. Their injuries became their downfall, you feel your arm getting wet and see a stain coming through. You pulled your stiches, but you didn't give in to the pain. Giving in means death as your three comrades have so kindly demonstrated.