Harbringer — Roleplayer Guild

"Still..." Gerard said as he gripped his glass. Delacroix knew the sentiments of other people well given his usual personality, but bit his tongue as he fought the urge to snap back. They were who they were, just like he was who he was. And so it was with melancholy that he drank the wine he had poured himself. "Santé, Tori..." he quietly said before downing the vintage, his mind too unfocussed to appreciate the aftertaste. Placing his glass down back onto the table, he half-slumped back into his seat as the squad began to carouse. He gritted his teeth even as his hand unconsciously tightened around the cheap glass of his, sending a crack which propagated further up the goblet. Snapped out of his stupour by the sound, he sighed and tossed it into a wastebin before silently standing up. He...needed some time alone. 

Splitting off from his comrades, Gerard heard their voices echo into the distance through the tunnel-like corridors. The dimly illuminated alleys reflected his mood as his soft footfalls became his only companions. Thoughts raced through his mind as he placed his hands into his pockets. Feeling a hard, rectangular object in his pocket, he pulled out his hide-bound diary which brought a small pained smile to his face. "Mon amie, you are the only one who knows of my true thoughts..." he whispered quietly before placing it in his chest pocket, not breaking his stride as he moved towards their dormitories. Subtly checking behind him, he only saw some of the ship maintenance people doing their rounds. None of his squadmates. Though he usually sought companionship, even he needed some time alone with his thoughts. 

Sitting in his little corner desk once more, Gerard pulled the little canvas curtain around his assigned area, giving him a little private space away from prying eyes...of course, apart from Captain Marquis who was an all-seeing eye. Even then, she had better things to do than check up on one simple soldier in this meatgrinder war. Reaching under his jacket, he removed a revolver from a hidden holster before placing it on the table in front of him. It was a beautiful thing, with an ivory handle and decorative thorned roses winding around the barrel. A little old in style, it was a coalition model that he took from an enemy officer after he had killed him during an ambush encounter. The words 'To Jerry, may this keep you safe, -Matheld' were engraved into the side of the handle in German. Fingering the chamber, Gerard's mind started to replay that scene that had haunted the corner of his mind for almost a decade now...

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"Hit them in the vitals!" shouted the gruff voice of Sergent Berger in French, "don't let any of the Coalition bastards escape!" Almost immediately, his voice was drowned out by chattering weapons fire, spaced intermittently with the iconic whizz-crack of laser weapons. Beside Gerard, a soldier spun to the ground as a bullet clipped his flank, eliciting a scream of pain. Heedless, Delacroix charged forward through the storm of frantic fire, firing his muddy pistol one handedly as his other hand clutched his hatchet, its handle slicked with dried blood. The Noveau France conscript squad 19 had lain in wait at a battleground, hiding themselves amongst the bodies of their slain comrades and enemies as rain pelted down at them, making the battlefield a bloody mess. His blonde hair was matted with layers of mud and dirt and his entire body was caked with the stuff. As a small party of Coalition soldiers started to march through to a further battleground, they had sprung their ambush, leaping up from the fields and charging them immediately. They were out of ammunition and this was a desperate ploy that they had concocted to serve as their last stand.  Stumbling as he stepped into a deep crater, Gerard felt a round clip his arm but that only served to reinforce his grip on the hatchet as he regained balance. He would punish these people for laying their filthy hands on his world. 

As he reached striking distance of a Coalition soldier, they lashed out with their rifle bayonet but Gerard simply grabbed the body of the gun and pushed it away, sinking the head of his hatchet into his skull before yanking it out and moving onto the next victim. All around him, screams, shrieks and battlecries were heard as the Noveau France forces crashed into the unprepared Coalition lines. But they were woefully malequipped. A conscript's spade clanged off a Coalition soldier's armour a second before a flurry of rifle shots jerked him back and caused him to fall like a puppet with its strings cut. They weren't getting things entirely their way though as evidenced by a conscript who shoved his old hunting knife deep into a soldier's chest, sliding the blade between his armour plates and into his heart. Gerard, on the other hand, moved like a vengeful tempest among the Coalition forces, his axe hacking left and right, cutting enemies down where they stood. His body seemed to have a natural intuition when it came to combat and it showed as he leaned back to let a hastily drawn combat knife slice across his chest, leaving a shallow gash. Using that momentum, he swung his axe horizontally, cutting deep into the enemy's neck and decapitating him. Unbalanced by the wild strike, Gerard stumbled again across the uneven battlefield but as he attempted to right himself, he found himself knocked into the ground, sending up a splash of muddy water and dirt. Looking up, he saw the frenzied face of a Coalition soldie before he jabbed down with his bayonet. Leaning away, Gerard let the blade sink into the earth inches away from his head and grabbed the soldier, pulling him down and hugging him close before smashing his axe repeatedly into his back even as he was being beaten upon by the soldier's fists. 

With the soldier having finally succumbed to death's embace, Gerard rolled him off and rose unsteadily to his feet having emerged into a small lull in the fight. His senses heightened by adrenaline, he looked around and saw that the conscripts were most definitely losing this fight. To his left, he saw a young Noveau French lad get his face seared off by a laser cutter while on his right, a conscript and soldier were locked in a lide-or-death grapple, rolling around in the dirt until the soldier staved his face in with the butt of his rifle. Everything seemed to play out in slow motion as his dazed mind looked around. This was not a fight. It was a slaughter. Locking eyes with an enemy soldier through his mask, he saw him slowly bring up his rifle for a shot. A corporals's chevrons were emblazoned onto his arm and they flashed in the light. Almost instantly, Gerard jinked to the side, slamming his axe into a Coalition soldier's stomach and hiding behind him as he pushed him towards the corporal. Screaming a warcry, he shoved the dying man into the line of fire and loosened his bloodslicked axe, the masked countenance of the corporal coming into view. Shoulder tackling him to the ground, Gerard mounted him and brought his axe up for a brutal swing. The corporal's hand scrambed for his own knife even as the axe head fell, but his other hand gripped Gerard's and tried to push it away, which served to reduce its momentum, the alloy bit only barely sinking into the mask. With a pained expression, Gerard ripped his axe out and started to smash the mask repeatedly with the bit, flat and butt of the axe.

With a crack, the polymer mask broke into shards and the person under its countenance made him stop. It was a young boy...younger even than him. His clean, smooth face was stained with the rivulets of tears. He looked naught more than 12. "Squad 20 is just on the horizon! Just a little more!" shouted Berger as he shot a Coalition soldier in the face with his laser pistol. Ripped out of his reverie, Gerard looked back down at the boy who sniffled and tried to shrink away, punching at Gerard. With a single motion, he cracked the haft of his axe into his forehead, knocking him out before rejoining the melee. 

In the aftermath, the deaths were tallied as the soldiers anguished over their loved ones, relatives and friends. Out of the original 26 members of squad 19, only 4 remained in exchange for 19 coalition soldiers. A heavy price, but one that the top brass thought was well worth it. Fuck them. Walking around, doing the tallies, it doubled as searching for the wounded. Allied ones were given medical attention, while enemies were...finished off. Gerard himself was not allowed to be part of these details, mostly because he was believed to be unthorough, but in reality he was simply trying to be merciful. He would finish off those who were too badly wounded but others he would instruct to keep comatose until they could escape. Sitting in the mud, water soaking through his fatigues, Gerard recapped his flask. His body was covered in seveal cuts, bruises and  that he had been shot in the left shoulder, also that he had dropped his pistol somewhere in the mire. With extremely few medical supplies, amongst other things, Gerard had to make do with simply licking his wounds and having the bullet extracted at a later date. "I found a live one," he heard through the pouring rain. Gerard's head snapped around. No...Scrambling to his feet, he ran off in the direction of the shout.

As luck would have it, it was. The 12 year old boy who he ahd knocked out. 'Stupid child,' he thought inwardly, 'if only he had stayed cold for a little bit longer.' Berger lifted him up by the scruff of his uniform, causing him to shout and gibber as he tried to release himself. With disdain, the sergeant threw him into the mud again, where he came into contact with the corpse of one of his comrades. He screamed in horror as he crawled away from it, only to flipped around and stepped on by Berger, who levelled a pistol at him. Almost immediately, Gerard slapped his hand away. "Delacroix! Back in line!" he barked, spittle and bad breath being washed away by the rain. "He is only a child, Sergent," Gerard replied, "I am sure he just wants to return home to his mother." Berger grabbed him by the neck of his fatigues and dragged him towards him, causing Gerard to wince in pain as his bullet wound's pain grew more obvious. But he wouldn't show it in front of Berger. "An enemy, is an enemy, Soldat Delacroix, and you would do well to remember that!" he hissed before dropping him back into the mud, "in fact, this was probably your doing, wasn't it?" Gerard looked away, unwilling to speak or meet his eyes as he rose back to his feet. He could feel Berger's cruel smile. "Then you know what?" he said, "since it's your mess, why don't you finish it?" Gerard's head snapped back around, his eyes widened. "Sir...I-" he started before being cut off by the sergent. "Do it, Soldat, or I will have your family indicted for treason!" Looking around at the other conscripts, none of them would meet his eyes. They were all thinking the same thing, but none of them would say it. Berger stepped off and handed his pistol to Gerard, forcing him to stand in front of the Coalition soldier, a wide grin on his face. "Go on then, finish the job." he said with a smirk,

Looking down at the soldier, Gerard could see him snivelling and crying as he tried to worm away from him. "Mutter, mutter! Herr, erbarme dich!" he managed in between sobs. Closing his eyes, Gerard turned his head and pulled the trigger. With an ionising whizz-crack, he sent a laser bolt through the boy's head, leaving a smoking crater. "Well done, Soldat," Berger said as he patted him on the back, "now let us leave this hell hole." taking back his pistol, Berger walked away, leaving Gerard standing them alone as the other conscripts followed. He lingered in the same position for more than a few moments, looking down at the corpse. Tears welled up in his own eyes. A glint of silver caught his eye. Leaning down, Gerard loosened the corpse's fatigues and pulled out a holster which bore a silver revolver. It was beautifully crafted, but marred with mud and dirt. On the handle, a message was engraved onto it in another language, but he could tell that it was a gift from someone close to him. He looked down at the corpse again. "I will return this to your family...if I ever see them," he said sadly, before turning away.

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Music

His mind snapped back into reality as he heard a speaker message. He never did find out where that invasion had come from, so he could never return the revolver, but it now served to humanise him and anchor him in the madness of this ever lasting war. Once more, he looked over the revolver. How had this Matheld reacted when she learned of Jerry's death? Anger? Sadness? A desire for vengance? How would she feel if her gifted revolver took the life of Jerry's killer? Pointing the revolver upwards, Gerard closed his eyes and put the barrel beneath his chin. Pulling back the hammer with an audible click, Gerard took a deep breath as his finger rested on the trigger. As the pressure built on the trigger, thoughts continued to race through his mind. Would Jerry have done the same if their roles were reversed? Would he have been in this same position? Probably not. With a sigh, he pulled the trigger.

Click

The hammer smacked onto an empty chamber. Nevertheless, Gerard kept the revolver barrel under his chin. His problems would not end that easily was his thought as he leaned back in his seat, feeling the cold metal of the revolver press into the base of his head.
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