- Joined
- Mar 28, 2023
- Messages
- 366
- Thread Author
- #1
His very existence was improbable, inexplicable, and altogether bewildering. He was an insoluble problem. It was inconceivable how he had existed, how he had succeeded in getting so far, how he had managed to remain -- why he did not instantly disappear.
Cowardly drunkard who I had exceeded in both position and cruelty.
Powerless sheep caught between two fires.
Man better than me.
Better off having not outgrown the cradle.
Perfect soul, leader and detective persecuted by life on the daily for little rhyme or reason. A grand mind with no equivalent to match, investigative efforts rarely seen on such an innovative and important scale. Yet I find myself shunned, neglected, insulted by peers and superiors alike. Is it true that the weak and stupid are afraid of those who excel them? My case proves such a theory. It is only the strong that thrive, those with a willingness to do whatever they must to prosper, while the others watch in awe and jealousy. They shan't understand until it's too late.
Commandant. Torturer. Realist. Brother in arms. Mentor. Enabler. All names befitting for General Carmichael. Been through many things with him, in Hell and Rome. Wherever he goes, I go. My blood shed for him and his shed for mine. Two brothers bound by pact and loyalty, our march to doom inevitable and unavoidable.
Battle sister of Athenian descent. Once meek and foolish, now granted a spine and matching attitude. Unpleasant history forgotten and painted over by closer ties and sibling-like care. One of the rare notable jackboots of my batch, lasting long contrary to my expectations.
Delusional freak with a love so unbefitting for a real man that it makes my organs twist and hurl. Unloved, uncared for, unbothered by the world around him, left to rot by others. An attempt to humiliate me via beating that he had managed to turn against himself, in which all air from his efforts was removed.
Left behind to die in hellfire while a Minister was escorted and allowed to see another day. Corpse now left to rot behind in a destroyed organ of tunnels that shall never be reached again. A shame. A sorrow. Another brother lost to untimely death, one that proved immensely avoidable.
Irishman with a heart of gold who had joined the wrong job. Rash, impulsive, irrational. Driven by tight morals revolving around the betterment of all people. Suicidal by all definitions. Forced to pick between himself and his sister - and the choice had been made. He has disappeared off the face of the Earth. Perhaps reconfigured into one of those shambling corpses.
Carries luck of his countrymen and the colors to boot. Reliable. Loyal. One that shan't be abandoned when the final alarm blares. No questions asked. Would-be partner in crime.
Eager dog of the bureaucrats that have long abandoned us. Believer in a cause whose existance started and ended on cheap propaganda posters. One guilty of matricide, one guilty of killing his comrade, one guilty of treason of the highest order, one guilty of doubting me.
Old dog whose traitorous ambition and plot were vindicated by time. A man guilty not of treason or a crime, but simply letting the wrong person be aware of it. My promotion was on the same day of your execution, yet I doubt I would've been able to pull the trigger. Your expertise would have been appreciated in the current reality.
Hormonal and cranky. An amusing patrol partner nonetheless. Theoretical backstabber of my division yet I can't muster enough effort to care in the slightest. Disrespectful and sharp tongued when need be. Reliable when need be.
Odd woman of indiscernible loyalties, whether it be to one self or a group of acquaintances. One of the few that I could muster to talk to about what lingers in my mind and feelings. A friend, yet more importantly a siren of reason. My doubts arise, however. They float in the back of my head.
