The Fog of War

[Gildarts]

Day Three Hundred and Fifty-Seven, Part Three

She snorted. "Spare me your bullshit. I have another trick up my sleeve." Christa spoke to her brother, now idle on the ground, meanwhile his head spun.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"I'm going to find Omni."

A hand wrapped around her ankle as he spoke through his clenched teeth, "You can't." He seemed convinced, meanwhile Christa shrugged him off.

"Bullshit, haven't you done enough? Your persuasion won't work on me. You see, some people sell their souls for the world, other people choose to take the world, at the cost of their soul." She stepped on his cheek so he would relent.

"You... Can't.. He'll kill you."

Christa's eyes widened, as her brother suddenly vanished from beneath her foot. She had her chance and she didn't take it. Now she was left alone with her own remorse

"FUCK."

... Later that day...

"Oh yeah Brown-eyes? What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

"We have much more... Effective ways of persuasion."

"Do you now? And how well did that work out for you?" She sneered a challenge.

"You shall see what you have created for yourself, Girl."

"Man, just when I thought you couldn't become any more of a dick, you empirical scum prove me wrong every time."

"Hm. Talking big for a puppet who we have in the palm of our hands."

"You're talking big for a chess piece. What, did they strip away your emotions when you lost your fucked up sense of mortality?"

"Talk all you want. It is but useless squandering."

"Okay, okay, you got me. Can you at least untie me? I promise I'll play nice." Her eyes flicked to her brother, he was dead to her. And his own ally "Brown-eyes" held a persuasive knife to his neck.

"Were you ready to die for your cause?" Christa challenged him, merciless even in his last moments. But it was her farewell.

"I did what I had to." The coward said nobly. Near poetic last words.

Brown-eyes ripped the skin coveted flesh with his blade, sliced through the white tab of his collar, and a dense body fell with a gentle muffle onto the cold ground. During this moment and at the sacrifice of her hostage half-brother, she had slipped her ties, and lunged vengefully close to the suited man who had tortured her for three hundred and fifty seven maddening days.

With the swift swipe of her hand, she ended him. It was too easy. She didn't even turn to the suited man's body, perhaps she could not bear to release her anger, for fear of what she might become. It was over, and she felt a minute pang of despair for her dead brother. Everyone, everyone she loved had died. She crouched low, and covered his eyes with the nearest garment, his priest coat, and corrected him.

"You did as you pleased."