Well my fellow New Monarchians, it has been a long while and I apologize. This was put on an unofficial hiatus because I tried waiting and looking for new information (guns, factions, etc.) and lost contact with everyone in the hopes to come back and blow you away with a fantastic up-to-date story. Sadly, no new information has come up after two weeks of waiting. On an unrelated note I was hoping to draw my character...but then I noticed my drawing skills were lacking. Anyways, the (hopefully) long awaited Chapter 7! P.S. Z3R0M1ND01, contact me tomorrow and we'll work on the next chapter. =================== VII. A Splinter =================== The man bleeds out. A pitiful death surely, not dying in the heat of combat, but not as a prisoner either; simply as a man who bled out. My boots were in the crimson red puddle; the cloak essentially was redyed a new colour of red at the ends. However, as the feeling of rage, anger, and bloodlust subsided; my hands began to shake. Not very visibly, but I could hear the clacking of metal against metal. What have I done? I held my left wrist firmly, in an attempt to stabilize myself. I've murdered a man - no - three men. But it was self protection, right? But I killed them so cold-heartedly. I gave a man false hope that he would live, but knew he would bleed out within a matter of minutes. Was I a murderer? [i]Not if you kill more.[/i] The voice in my head kept speaking in its dark voice [i]Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill a thousand in the name of Her Majesty, and you are a hero.[/i] That's right. I serve not only Her Majesty, but also Humankind. My life means naught in their eyes, and yet I still fight for them; why is that? No matter. As I continue to look at my shaking hand, I make a revelation. I can't be weak anymore. It won't lead only to my death, but to countless others if I fail in my duty. Perhaps this [i]is[/i] the right thing to do. I slowly rise, my vision dark. As I rise, I feel a new beginning. My hand no longer shakes from death, nor does my mind feel plagued from the thoughts of death; instead, I feel euphoric. "This is bliss." I turn the revolver over in my hand, and all of it feels natural to me. I know now, that I've lost part of my humanity - part of my sanity. My theory? What is it exactly? It is that only I should have to lose my humanity in order to save the rest of humanity. I will throw away my past life and all that makes me a "normal human," in order to let others have that pleasure. I will fight for them, bleed for them, and die for them so they don't have to. Gravity. It meant a lot to me, but the need of many triumph my needs. With this resolution, I will walk this poisonous road which will lead surely to my own demise, and I shall suffer. I will become a monster in war. I scavenge what I can from the bodies, picking up only the oddest pieces of equipment. The weapons they carried are either outdated or ahead of what they should have. Clearly, these men aren't pure scavengers. I rummage around more until I come across the first man I murdered - a clean bullet through the chest and exited through his spinal cord. It was beautiful in a way. The way it decorated the floor and accented the surroundings. Almost making this act of hatred and black death an art piece worthy of praise. However, I enjoyed my other pieces much more than this one; those were simply breathtaking. Admiring my work for long enough, I began to rummage through this man's belongings. The only thing which particularly caught my eyes was of an old knife that hung from his belt. I removed the knife from its confines and admired it. The craftsmanship was unrivaled and appeared to be handmade. I'd not seen such a knife before, and it was beautiful. It was a large knife, the blade itself was twelve inches long, two inches wide, and a blade a quarter of an inch thick. A clip point at the tip for roughly two inches with a false edge which streamlined the blade. The cross guard and fittings were tarnished, but you could see that it was a brass type of metal. The handle was of two tones of wood, the upper half was a brown type whilst the bottom was much closer to black. I strapped it across my chest on the left side so that it covered my heart; the sharpened edge facing towards my own neck. It would provide me with ease of reach in confined positions, not cause as much sound when running, and a quick end to my own life if I was faced with a situation which called for it. On the pommel was an added piece of metal, odd designs. It had a symbol of a bleeding crown with the initials "NN" engraved into it. I've not seen a symbol like this before anywhere, never heard of it either. I continued to think about what it could mean, but I couldn't. I've never been to the city, and have only lightly heard of the five factions. The others are less important, but I've been saved by the New Monarchy countless times. It appeared as if the other factions like Dead Orbit, Seven Seraphs, FWC, and Osiris; either had their own territories, or their own Guardians were mediocre in comparison. However, I knew that nearly all Guardians were near superhuman in their own right, so I go with the former choice. Still though; I'd never heard of the faction "NN". Was it a human faction? That would be the most plausible since we fought humans, but these men appeared to be scavengers. It could be a new faction, though I highly doubt they'd have been hunting us if they were. It could be a mercenary faction, but once again, it wouldn't make any logical sense. I take the remaining ammo and rations they had and begin searching for other gear. When we were done and dawn was nearing, we stockpiled the usable gear into a pile and began to sort through it. Through it I gained another holster for my other thigh and the revolver I picked up earlier. I held a helmet in my hands - destroyed and rendered useless because of the bullet hole through the front. I dropped it on the floor and found a spaulder which I equipped to my left shoulder. Amongst other things were elbow guards which would show their usefulness when I must lay prone for an extended period of time. Everything else was basically useless. I turn to Dax to see what he might have found. Next to him is a large heavy machinegun which he's wiping the blood from and performing maintenance on it. There truly was no other way to describe it rather than menacing, and I wonder which enemy carried that one. Before long, he notices me staring and stops cleaning it. "You fine? Injured or something?" I reply with a somewhat hoarse voice, "No." I still looked at the gun quizzically, "What gun is that?" He lifts the gun effortlessly and places it on his lap. "This is the gun the really big guy was using." He continues, "I can't say I know it exactly, but the markings say it is the Gravesend Mk. 28." It was obviously ill maintained prior to this because some parts are rusted and dry. I remember the knife I carried and decided to show him it. "On this knife," I removed it from its sheath to show him the pommel, "There's a bleeding crown on the bottom with the initials 'NN' engraved into it. Know anything?" He's silent for a while, but grips the Gravesend tightly. With a heavy sigh, he began to explain, "I suppose you know the factions, so I won't go into much detail. However, not everyone likes the idea of one person having power, that is, Her Majesty. So, while many of us are her loyal subjects, there is a group among us who aren't. These people make a mockery of our name by calling themselves the 'New Nation'." He begins to load ammo into his weapon, and I follow suit, "It means that not all of humanity is unified in our pursuit of survival. It was thought that these New Nationals were timid and weak; but to ambush us in a forest with these weapons? They must have resources, which also means they're gaining strength." He motions toward the knife after fully preparing his weapons. "Since you found that on one of them, it also means that they know we're here," He says grimly, "and that [i]that[/i] was the scouting party." My paradigm shifts and I hold my rifle with killing intent. I turn back to the open path they came from and see a straight line amongst the bushes. There are never straight lines in a forest. Dax noticed this as well and pulls back the charging handle loudly. "Ready to light up the night?" I pull back my charging handle and release with a loud [i]clack![/i] I kneel, shoulder the weapon, and scope in on the direction of the line. "Another murder for Her Majesty." =================== I apologize to the people who read my (amateur) work, and would like to thank whoever is still reading this. I'll try to inform you guys (and gals?) of whenever it's going on hiatus again, for research or other purposes. Feedback, comments, and messages are all greatly appreciated and will be read and replied to! Have a good day everyone!