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gently caress it, I'm in.
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Jan 2, 2014 03:44
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 16:04 |
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gently caress this deadline, gently caress that cold, gently caress my brain, gently caress this challenge, you're cool Marty, gently caress this story, I'm out. The Martyr, WC: 577 Gregor cast his line into the sea while David sat on the other end of the boat, sipping from the flask of whiskey he carried with him. “What is the matter, my brother?” Gregor spoke while glancing at David, his concentration focused more on the fish than on his fellow passenger. “You never seemed so eager to come fish with me before. And quite frankly, you don't seem so eager now either.” “I had a chat with Gurion.” David said, shortly before taking another sip from his flask. “A chat, huh? I hope there weren't too many tables damaged this time!” Gregor laughed while checking the line for any sign that the fish had taken the bait. None yet. “So, what did the Old Man want now?” David coughed a bit, considered closing his flask, but then decided to respond to his brother. “He wanted me to ask you to stop this collaboration talk. He says it is bad for the cause.” “Collaboration? Ha! The Old Man is just being dramatic as usual.” “Then what have you done to make him so angry?” “All I have done is make connections within the parliament, to end the war peacefully.” David took another swig from the flask. His head was starting to feel a little fuzzy from the alcohol he had consumed before, but he couldn't stop now. “The useless pack of imbeciles we always joke about? The ones who jump at the Sovereign's command? Why would you do such a thing?” “When the Sovereign is overthrown, there will have to be a government for the people. Otherwise we are simply exchanging one dictator for another, and there will be no end to the bloodshed. At least this way, there will be a peaceful transition.” Gregor suddenly grabbed the fishing rod on his side of the boat as he heard the reel spinning. “We can talk of this matter later, my brother! Look, I got a bite!” David took the opportunity to finish off the last of his flask. “You really care so little of this revolution? Of Gurion, the man who gave us hope? You would sell us all down the river for mere promises that will never be fulfilled?” “You've seen how this works, my brother! The moment we stop being useful, he'll throw us on a pile of corpses! I'm just trying to secure a better future for us!” “So am I.” David muttered. Sliding a long knife out from his belt sheath, he grabbed Gregor's head with his free hand and stabbed him in the back, trying to aim for the neck but with his aim impaired by alcohol. Gregor screamed as the fishing rod leapt from his hands. David stabbed him again, and again, and again, trying not to look his brother in the face as he continued stabbing him with the knife until he felt him go limp, then David kicked him into the water. It had to be done, for the sake of the revolution. If Gregor could not return as a comrade, he would have to become a martyr, and if Gregor did not do the deed himself, another comrade would have been less accommodating. David let out a strangled cry as he saw the one thing he hoped not to see, a horrified expression on his brother's face. Even from his spot in the afterlife, Gregor would continue to haunt him.
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Jan 6, 2014 05:35
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