The Fog of War

[Gildarts]

Day Three Hundred and Fifty-Seven, Part Two

With a loud slurp of her own quite obviously poisoned coffee, she turned to rise to her superior and offered a flaunting grin. Flaunting of the 'special' quality of tolerance she had gained from her visit to Hell. Christa's eyes glistened with intensity as enraged fire roared in her fists.

"Never liked coffee." Honey spoke back, her tone haughty and snide. "Like revenge, it's much too bitter."

"What's that expression? Dropped like flies?" Christa sadistically sneered, holding none of her scorn back as though Honey was the one who tortured her and her squadron of two hundred had supplied the ammunition and held her down, delivering her to the suited executioner.

"They were... Good men." Honey's fists clenched together to form balls of white. The two women faced-off before suddenly a bullet launched into Honey's back and through her left pectoral. And the bullet had gone straight through. Large caliber, she assumed. Christa showed no mercy as she tackled the limp body and used it as a meatshield. Sticky-sweet blood soon covered her as her hand reached the officer's holstered pistol. Her expression turned into spilled soup as her eyes landed on her attacker.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Black attire, head to toe, minus the square patch of white around his Adams' Apple. A thin, snaky smile greased his lips as the priest bent down towards the female soldier, on the ground and wavering like a child. Christa's hair a mess, and half of her face was splattered with crimson war paint.

"What, aren't you happy to see your own brother?" He raised his pistol to her temple and smirked.

"You fucked-up, filthy son of a bitch."

"Oh my, repent of your sins, little sis. And all will be forgiven."

"How about you repent of your sins? How could you just sit bad and watch them murder our sister? Or me... Hundreds of days in captivity, just like an extended vacation, and you didn't even write?" She sadistically challenged as her gun lowered, a crucial mistake.

"I was on a mission."

"Oh yeah? I forgot, you were sent by God."

"No. Not God. Omni. You forget, there are people who don't deserve redemption."

"What, and you just banish them? Don't you think it's kind of fucked up?"

"Tsk. Tsk. Dearest sister, you have made too many mistakes. Turn yourself in and you too, can have redemption."

"Yeah yeah, read it to those who actually give a sh-" Christa's eyes widened with a fear-frenzied disbelief. "You're.. You're working WITH them? How could you?! They killed Katia! They killed OUR sister, or have you forgotten?"

"How could I?" Pain lined his words if only for a second, "I'll tell you that I haven't forgotten the reason. Incentive. Now they have the final chess piece. They've held it for very long. And you have made them quite angry. Give it up. Or it's check mate, and not just for us."

Advice. Not just from any priest. But her brother. How effective. The memories swarmed in her mind faster than she could blink. Her weakness. She stared it in the face, while the snout of his pistol stared right back at her.

"What did they do to you? Why are you doing this?"

"Don't you get it? They asked you for one little thing, and you declined. Your sister's death is your fault. I'm your fault. And all you can do is plead innocent, no, you are even worse. A helpless victim. Poor, poor little Christa... 'They killed my sister, someone help me!'" He mocked in a wimpy voice, "It's pathetic."

"I never thought I would hear more bullshit come from your mouth, other than when you were preaching to the masses." The words were strong, but compromised by her faltered expression as the stinging words ripped at her abdomen. He was all she had left. And he had taken the coward's way out of the battle. Betrayed her, rather than fall on his own sword. Christa forgot that no man was perfect. She also forgot that people all too frequently lost their reason to have strength.

"My feelings are so hurt-"

"How long did you last? A day? An hour? You're not my brother anymore. So you won't mind if I do this." The blonde raised her gun, mercilessly on her own kin, ready to spill her own blood.

"Oh Christa, I'm your brother, you know me. You won't shoot me." He approached her with staggered steps until he felt the steel over his heart. "I know you."

"Think again. I went to hell and back. No thanks to you, coward." She growled and clicked the trigger. Only to discover the magazine was empty in her hand. Click. Click. Click. Desperately she pressed before scoffing to herself, and noting the surreal lightness of the gun.

"Ouch. You would shoot your own brother? Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought. After all, you killed our sister." His words were painful velvet, carefully chosen to fit her intricate doubts.

"You take that back! I didn't kill her!"

The snake played her like a fiddle, choosing the tempted emotions enlivened by her fear that he wanted to elicit in her, "You're the one who caused her to die, big sis. Or did you forget? If only you had said yes, surely this moment – rather, this day – three hundred and fifty seven days after, would be very, very different. You could have saved her. Protected us both. But you failed her. And now she is very dead."

The painful truth delivered a crucial blow to her psyche. Her hand desperately clutched the gun as though she were hanging on for her life. Meanwhile, her brother riddled on. "You asked why I was here, I assure you, my reasons are most honorable."

"What did they promise you?"

A sly smile snaked on his coiled features. His manipulation was marked with notable ambition.

"What. Did. They. Promise. You." She wouldn't repeat herself.

"So much more than you could ever imagine. Apparently a priest's soul isn't cheap. However, I will say, they told me they would revive her if I did my job. Yes. You heard right, Katia, back to life. Wouldn't it be like the good old days? The three of us?"

"Your job is to persuade me to do the unthinkable. You know I won't. I'm just as stubborn as ever. And you're just as cowardly as ever. You... You're a monster. Go to back to hell. It's where you belong."

His weary expression revealed he was wearing thin of the repetitive insults, "Now, God is the only just judge, but just how many people have had to die because of you? Their lives taken, I bet their loved ones wept in the same way you mourn for Katia."

"You call yourself a priest, but you're the devil. And you sold your soul. And there is nothing left for you but to burn."

"Who me? Who other than Miss Honey over there, have I killed? And she wasn't exactly, 'innocent' if you know what I mean." He winked, acknowledging the woman's lustful sex appeal.

"You're a righteous bastard, you know that? And more of a monster than I could ever be."

"Now, that's where you are wrong," he waved his finger and narrowed his eyes, "Deep down, you are a murderer. And you don't even care. Just how many bodies are here? A couple hundred? Not to mention the cost of war only increases with the growing population. You even almost shot me a moment ago! As if I could die from a single bullet in my new form... But.. We all have our justice, Christa, and you can choose to call me a murderous vigilante, or you can embrace the fact that you have become one. Your choice."

"You're right. It is my choice." She took a lasting look at her brother and lowered her pistol before swinging a fist into his face and feeling the fleshy crunch of his nose squish under her hardened knuckle.