"Hey Kiske, I gotta get to my room on Floor C." Darton said arrogantly.

                "We'll be there eventually, shut up and walk." Ky said slow and concisely, malice dripping every word like precipitation from a frozen bottle.  They all kept walking, over dead bodies, over pieces of rubble, through puddles of blood and kicking over dismembered body parts accidentally.  Walking by bloodied hand to drained carcass, their boots tread unrelenting over the destruction.  Their faces were masks of blankness, not showing fear, anger, sadness, but walking forward, eyes kept level on the person in front of them, in fear of their eyes wandering down to see a carcass of a friend, colleague, buddy, or just a carcass, as a few were not inclined to have an iron stomach.

                "So, why you here in the Seikishidan?" Quint said to the man in front of him, trying to elicit a response to break the tense situation that seemed to permeate every lost artery in ever body, every crack in the floor, every gaspless lung, to fill it with something to keep everything out of mind and out of sight.  The soldier turned his head, walking forward all the while, and just gave Quint a lank stare with his unblinking eyes, and then mechanically turned his head back forward.  "Come on, quit, it's the fashionable thing to do." Quint comedically said, his own little laugh after his own words, dying out, the echoes seeming to stab him in the back even after he stopped.

                They all kept walking forward, on and on.  One foot in front of the other, the other now brought forward, look straight ahead, don't let your mind wander, stay calm.  To Floor F, to Floor F, to Floor F.  One of the soldiers in line tripped over a body, falling to one knee, and his eyes wandering down to see the body he tripped over.  He went pale for a second, violating the unwritten law of not looking down, and choked on his own breath.  He knew the man, he knew the carcass, and seeing him there startled the private.  The next person in line, a lieutenant, grabbed him up by his collar and shoved him forward walking, the private wiping his eyes and reassuming his position in line.

                It was sort of ironic that the men didn't talk, like the unwritten law, as said before.  That unwritten law permeated all, even the dead.  They kept silent vows in their death as those treading over could wink down at the carcass staring at them, a little nod between both at the secrecy they held together, never to be muttered.  Those certain codes, of Seikishidan, of God, of anything, kept the men going.  Step over another, keep going, we'll get this all taken care of later.  Hey Bobby, we'll get you a coffin when I get out of here.  And I'll wash your suit too, make it real nice, something your mom would be proud of.  A spitting image.

                But, some of the things they experienced in this unwritten law burdened them harder than the death of their friends.  Having to serve God, namely.  Fighting for humanity, killing Gears, the pride and heroism of it all, those were benefits, but fighting for God, that was the tough one.  God, He controlled all, He was the reason they fought, and He was supreme.  So, why did he let his own paladins die?  Why did he let the Gears be created?  Why all of it?  Most soldiers just threw it out of their heads, saying it was their test, as Jesus had his before his death.  They would be ascended to heaven for fighting, alive or not, and their lives were meaningless to the big picture of humanity being saved.

                I need to take an authorly intervention here.  This being a war story, isn't true.  War stories themselves are stories, usually parts are made up, in every new telling.  In every reiteration, new things added, others disappear, some changed, and by the time it gets written, it is so perfect for story, it isn't even true anymore.  Hey, Bobby was killed by a Gear.  Three weeks later, Bobby killed twelve Gears while surrounded, was stabbed three times, and had two arrows from his chest, and died of exhaustion from fighting, not from blood loss or anything.  As a reader, I hope you are somehow perceptive to this.  I hope you see through the facades of stories, and realize the truth of this endeavor to immortalize one of humanity's best forays.  Without that actuality to the stories, they're nothing more, but without that illustrious frill and spice, it wouldn't be worth telling.

                And through telling a story, not only I, but those who told me, and even if I experienced it, can have different ideas or visions of the same event.  From this, I only can give the best, unbiased idea of the events as I can, leaving you, the reader, the ultimate decision in truth or not.  For the sake of reality and my own morality to tell the story as purely as I can, I implore you to read between the lines, decipher what you can and what you feel is the truth, and let that be the events, not strictly written here.  Yet, I know what you must be thinking.  If you heard it, we know it is from Ky or Quint, you said that at the beginning, but who are you?  Did you experience any of it?  Even if I did experience it, what difference would it make in the story telling?  I can't tell you the exact events, because they may only be what I saw, not the truth of it all, of what Bobby saw of the same event.

                The only way to truly know what is true and not is to get an unbiased view, that sees all and knows all.  Yep, you know who I mean, the Big Guy upstairs.  But, he isn't going to write a Newer Testament to fit in after the New Testament about the Crusades and humanities war against its own creations.  So, humans are left with that responsibility in giving the history a story.  If He did, where's the point in reality?  That's what I want you, the reader to have.  Reality to my story.  I can't give the omnipotent view of the story, the perfect angle, and the unbiased, unadulterated truth in everyway.  And if I did present that, I don't think you, as a reader, would enjoy it.  So, look upon this writing not as truth, but rather as one view.  One stance, one idea, and one little slice of the truth.  By the end of the story, you'll know where this slice comes from, whose ideas these are, and whose view point it is.  You'll know, and even though this will be boisterous, I think I present the best view of it that can be given from a human, so enjoy what I have to say, because only God can out do this.  In truth or actual presentation, maybe he can't, but in unadulterated, he can, and that may be the most important part of a story.  Or, it may be how much a story is fun, and actually is a story, not the truth.  You decide.

Slowly, on they tread.  Plodding steps in unison, afraid to break line, for the repercussions of that unsaid law, to an unseen court, to an unjust death, from an unreal fear of that penalty.  Even Quint, the self-appointed rebel of the group since his rude awakening, fell into accordance of the law, and walked his share without verbosity.  The nine total soldiers walked slow, periodically one grumbling, saying a prayer, a little grunt, a sigh, a sniffle, a choke on the thoughts of the dead seeping up through the air to stab them into remembrance, and a constant, irrefutable plod of footsteps.  Finally, they came to the gap left in the floor by Ky's destruction of it on the retreat.  The hole on the other side was traversed with a broken railing beam used as a high wire to crawl across.  This time, it was bigger, and there was no item to help them cross.

                "Well, we're S.O.L." Quint said mockingly, looking over the edge of the crevice, spitting in, and watching it fall twenty feet before it hit Floor B, which had the scattered clumps of cement, guarding wire, bodies, and dust settling over it in the entire expanse of the gap.  Pieces of exposed guide wire were bent in charred circles on the edge of each side of the thirty foot gap, and chunks of cement were shattered below, the entire three-foot thick floor lying in pieces below, as well as a fine white dust, like snow, from the destroyed Floor C catwalk.  Instantly in Ky, Quint's words spurned a deep seeded hatred, the three letter reminding him of why he suddenly hated Quint so much.  Not the insubordination, not the anger with the Seikishidan and wanting to leave, but that he was playing a thematic role that Sol Badguy had, not but four months ago.  More on him later, he's a big part, but not yet.

                "We're going to jump down" Ky said slowly, looking at the drop, all nine of the soldiers lining up along the break in the floor.  "It's the only way."  The catwalk was about 20 feet across, and accommodated heavy traffic from both directions, as the Seikishidan H.Q. was a busy place.

                "Hey Kiske, that's about twenty feet down.  We'll break a leg, and I don't want to carry you" Quint said, smirking as he looked at Ky from his comment.  Ky opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly, a soldier next to Quint spoke first.

                "Hey, Darton, right?  Give the Commander time, he'll find a way, until then, just be quiet, please.  Thank you" he said, without Quint's response, and turning back to Ky to hear his response.  The soldier was older than most, a bit of gray hair working its way underneath his jet black hair.  Both of his eyes were calm, soothing, like a long ocean in front of a surreal painter, who put the amazing picture to opiate bliss.  His words were like butter, smooth and relaxing, and his tone was mellow, somewhat convincing to his tone, but neither enforcing.

                "And who the hell are you?"

                "Jaygus, sergeant first class." He said, extending his hand to Quint.  Quint shook his hesitantly, mostly because of how polite and respectful the man was, despite Quint being outwardly rude and disrespectful, and even trying to get the other soldiers on nerve, but this one seemed nice regardless, like some sort of necessity.  He was the only sergeant amongst the group, the rest was two lieutenants, and five privates, including Quint Darton, then there was Commander Ky Kiske.

                "Well, as Jaygus said, whatcha got, Commander?" Quint said, mockingly.

                "We're jumping down.  Seikishidan training book, chapter 12, section 3, traversing large falls and obstacles in a group, gentlemen.  We have on person take flank off of the edge of the large drop, then the next person climbs down the other, and holds the ankles.  If they can drop down, then they're going to catch every following, and the one person who was first to hold, gets to drop second, a new pair traversing next, until all is completed.  In an odd number, the last person without a pair hangs off the edge, then drops to be caught by all the rest below."

                "Textbook answer, Kiske." Quint said.  He stood up straight, then arched his back in a backward U, stretching his spine.  "Well, what are we waiting for?"

                "Nothing," Jaygus said, turning around, and stepping off of the edge, his face towards the walkway they just came across, and grabbing a chunk of the cement that jut out in his right hand, and a guiding wire protruding from the cement in the other.  "Quint, protocol, you're next" he said slowly.  Quint moaned, and then stepped down the side of the sudden drop, his foot finding a little nook next to Jaygus face, a bit too close.  Once he had both feet firm, his top half of his body over the edge of the floor, the seven remaining looking at him, he dropped down, snatching Jaygus' hips as he fell backwards.  Jaygus grunted a little, tightening his grip, then slowly, Quint slid down his body, both hands clutching to his ankles, then dropping off, making a thud on the ground.

                "…Ouch" Quint slowly said, standing up, dusting himself off, and kicking a few pieces of rubble from the landing zone.  He stood below Jaygus slowly, nodding to him to fall, and then, Quint caught him as he let go of his holds, nearly throwing Quint on the ground a second time.  They both stood up, rebrushing themselves off, yelling above to the crowd who looked down at how to do it.  "Next" Quint said.  All of the following soldiers went in pairs, doing the textbook survival procedure.

                In the Seikishidan, I already said how children join up, are educated, taught how to survive and fight, but they are rigorously taught.  Being able to recite perfect places of how to survive, as Ky did, it central to part of being a leader.  Know it all, be a teacher, be a role model.  The Seikishidan taught God, how to kill Gears, how to survive, and how to be a man.  They weren't discriminatory against other religions, but tried to convert any other joining to Roman Catholicism, and there weren't many other religions in the world left from the war and heavy hand of the Seikishidan.  The survival methods were descended from survivalists all the way back to Neanderthal times, some being barbaric, others common sense, and some quite useful, such as certain ways to evade Gear sentries, a smokeless fire, and a way to bring magic out of living organisms with rudimentary tools, providing minimal heat, when conducted through enough metal, which was the exact amount in a standard Seikishidan sword.  Weird how it all worked out, eh?

                As I said earlier, magic isn't as magical as it was made out to be in history and fairy tales.  It's a resource, like the barbaric oil, or the rare electric current.  Between every quark, every atom, every gravitational force, exists "magic".  In itself, it is what holds things together.  Magnetism, matter, all of it is based off of magic principles that hold things together themselves.  Dispersing atoms or adding charge is just an adverse effect of magic, that was usually just thought of as static charge, extra electricity, which it was.  Though, what old scientists ever realized was WHAT exactly causes the extra electricity, what caused the electricity to have two polarities, not five?  Magic itself controlled all of this, although it is intransient, odorless, colorless, impossible to touch, see, or harness.

                The first real iteration of magic to man was in Hiroshima, Japan, in 1945.  The dropping of the first atomic bomb created the first ever controlled plasma energy source, which was basically what stars use.  But, this was basically raw magic, given properties of heat by the atoms used to go critical mass in the bomb itself.  The bombs radioactive isotope gave the plasma density and reality, but the plasma was inherently super condensed magic.  Once the bombs effects were gone, such as the immediate blast wave and mushroom of radioactivity, the magic settled into any atom it could find, bonding inside the quarks, inside of the very air, soil, and radioactivity.  Which is why magic is everywhere, everything.  To harness it in nature is an arduous task, but could save one's life, if used properly.  The exact secrets, I don't know, as I wasn't a member of the Seikishidan, and they keep most of those survival tactics hidden to only those who join, but what I do know I got from an old library in Italy.

                It was destroyed, somehow still standing, besides the three craters through it from bombs, the books left on the ground to rot, shelves destroyed.  I spent a total of five days in that library, just reading.  Learning science, old mathematics, reading on some old literature, even the one where my name was derived, and I educated myself in that short time.  I took three books home with me, that I never cease to respect.  The rest of the books were probably destroyed in subsequent battles at the place, but what I have, I thank God for.  I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.  You may ask, why bombs?  Wasn't this a Gear war?  It is, but wasn't always.

                In the first days of the war, mankind still had its technological weapons.  Guns, bombs, a lot of vehicles, flying ships, naval destroyers, and humanity used all of hem on the Gears.  The Crusades were nearly ended in 2099, as a massive full scale bombardment and invasion with the last remaining artillery in the world was expelled onto the Gear threat, from satellite imaging to find where they were, to laser targeting for the weapons.  The former United States even used the atomic bomb that spurned magic itself.  This was all in vain though, as Justice, being interconnected to the satellites, having links to the computer networks and digital information, knew of the plans.  No Gears were there, the invasion failed, the entire thing was a waste of humanities last resources.  A trap was set, and all of the soldiers were massacred, save for a lucky few.  One of them is quite important, but we'll get to that later.  I've taken too much of a jaunt from the story, trying to tell you, my ignorant reader, of the world which I live in, the vibrant history, mankind at its best and worst.

                The last soldier to make the drop was Ky, and he was the odd man out.  He stood at top, to make sure every soldier got down before him.  Quint attributed this to his fear of falling, as he would have attributed anything negative to Ky.

                "In an odd number, the last person without a pair hangs off the edge, then drops to be caught by all the rest below," Jaygus repeated Ky words.  The seven soldiers converged to form a sort of net for Ky, all wanting to be equally thanked by the savior of mankind for catching him, except for Quint, who started walking forward, to the staircase at the end of Floor B, which was still half a mile off.  Ky dropped off the edge, his hands releasing from the ¾ inch metal guide wire and small pocket of cement that his hand fit into, the mass of Seikishidan below giving him a mattress to land in.  He slowly got up, brushing the dust off of himself, as every new soldier to hit the ground on Floor B was met with a cyclone of dust from the vaporized cement atoms from Kiske's projectile a few hours earlier.

                "Move out" he said confidently to the rest of the soldiers, who all saluted him, right hand coming above their eyebrow in a straight angle, then shooting it out, their eyes slightly angled above Ky.  One things in Seikishidan code was never to look at the commander in the eyes.  Ever.  Always look above his head, jutting your chin slightly out, and presenting yourself better.  Not to mention looking Ky Kiske straight in the eyes would presume that person was an equal with him, which just wasn't so, with the human Atlas, holder of mankind on his shoulders.

                Ky hurried his pace a little, distancing himself from the following soldiers, and Quint, who was already ahead.  Slowly, Ky caught up to Quint, walking alongside him for a short distance.

                "We're moving out" Ky said, looking forward, still walking.

                "I heard you" Quint said.

                "Well, what do you got on this floor?" Ky asked, his voice low.  The conversation thus far had been null on the walking, but since Quint was such an odd character in the cookie-cutter mold soldier that the Seikishidan had, Kiske needed to know a few things.

                "Something that means a lot to me." Quint responded, looking forward as he walked, neither making eye contact.

                "And forsaking the Seikishidan and God is not important to you?"

                "Obviously not, I quit, remember?" Quint said, a slight malicious chuckle in his words.  He turned to look at Ky with his last statement, searching for his response of hate, which came soon, as Ky looked back at him, his eyes turning to slits, both making eye contact, on level with each other.  Then, Kiske walked forward faster, to pass Quint, who kept his steady pace.  Slowly, the bulk of the soldiers behind, distancing themselves about five feet from Kiske, met with Quint, and assimilated him into their small group, walking silently.  Most of them had adverse feelings about Quint, particularly because of how he treated Kiske, and forsook the Seikishidan, but still, they kept walking forward, and as long as Kiske was in the front, most didn't care where Quint was.

                Their walking paid off, and in about twenty minutes, they came upon the stairwell on the far side of the headquarters.  Ky took the first step up, surveying the way up, then motioning with his hand to follow.  Jaygus followed, then both lieutenants, and the privates last.  The stairwell was an old metal, a mixed steel, that shined in the light, but looked plain black in shadow.  From silver to midnight, it changed as the shadows of the men walking up played over it.  The clanks of their boots on the metal, littered with holes for traction and style, to be more militaristic, had little spikes on the edges and holes, like grating.  The boots dug into them, with the half-inch sole of a tough, armor grade rubber that could be nearly slashed by a sword, and reform its natural shape without a scratch, so long as it didn't cut through the sole into the boot.  Perfect for all terrain, it gripped everything, was durable, and water repellant.  They say it was somewhat magic inspired in its creation of the unnatural rubber ion, but whatever the reason, it sure as hell beat the contemporary shoe, which was nearly unchanged from the ones before the Crusades.

                "We have a problem" Ky said, the soldiers looking up to see him already halfway up the Floor C stairway, on his way to Floor D.  The soldiers filed out onto Floor C, looking up the stairwell further up to see Ky, walking back down.  "The Floor D stairwell has been collapsed in.  It is impossible to get through, they piled rubble over the top, mangled the stairwell, and caved in the walls."

                "Pretty thorough job, for a Gear." Darton mused.

                "Where's your room on Floor C, Darton?" Ky asked, a bit of malice on his tongue, but everyone, including Jaygus and Darton becoming accustomed to that anger in his tone only with the defiant private.

                "C-403." Quint responded sharply, his tongue spitting it out like a jab of a fencing sword.  Quick, precise, and aptly aimed with its tone and execution.

                "Fine, we'll think of something while you go to get whatever it is."

                "Aren't you afraid I'll run off and not return?"

                "Why?  You're no longer part of the Seikishidan, you're of no use to me." Ky said sharply, parrying the stab of Quint's previous attack with a very decisive blow.

                "Fine." Darton said, somewhat defeated, turning and walking off.  The frills of his Seikishidan coat kicked up in his wake of boots, wrapping around the heels of every step, and the small bits of debris thrown back by each proceeding step being caught in the long overcoat, draining behind him, like a stream.  The Gear sword he had sheathed on his side banged against his leg with every rhythmic step.  Left leg forward, it leaned back along his calf, right step, it jumped forward in predictable common movement, as was his walk.  Bringing his hands up to his face, he brushed his bangs out from in front of his face.  They were stringy and felt like dry wheat grass, the sweat from before drying out and leaving them dehydrated, as well as a bit matted, and plainly, in the way.  His gauntlets, consisting of a leather arm sock, to the elbow joint, with two pieces of unbreakable, lightweight plastic, color coded to rank, and latched together with three consecutive belts, rubbed on his face, a little bit of roughing on his skin, but nothing bad.

                Ky watched him walk off, each step echoing back to smash Ky, for his decision to release a soldier that they needed, but also that Quint could be so defiant.  Then again, where could he go?  The walkway on Floor C was destroyed, he wouldn't go back down to Floor B, and he had better chances of survival with the pack.  Kiske turned to face the group, who sat on pieces of rubble, leaned against walls, and everything else.

                "Sir, what should we do?" Jaygus asked with that sincere undeniable niceness that seemed to be all his own, none saved for anyone else, so he used every drop in every syllable and action.

                "Well…" Ky said, hesitating in his answer.  He looked at the slowly disappearing Quint, who got smaller with every step toward the C-403 room, then turned back to the group of soldiers focused on him.  "There's a secret store room built into Floor C to Floor E.  It has a tram elevator inside, connecting the floors.  It houses a lot of resources, materials, uniforms, and whatever else we don't currently need.  It's basically a secret warehouse, and bomb shelter that was built when this base was, but has since become obsolete.  I don't know if the elevator works, but it's our only shot." Ky said, lying the plans out flat.

                "And we didn't know about this little secret warehouse because…" a lieutenant asked.

                "Because it wasn't in the immediate concern of the soldiers.  Now, it must be used, and so you know.  Also, along the way, we can pick up supplies, and other things we need.  Some of it may be outdated, spoiled, and who knows what else, considering it is outdated, but it is better than nothing.  We're gonna need a bit of rest, so we'll aim for it on the elevator ride up, as seeing that as far as I know, it is slow, very, very slow, but it can pull great amounts of weight, so it was designed for a purpose.  The two floors should provide an hour, maybe two of rest before we move out."

                "Sounds good, sir.  Are we moving out now, or should we wait for Mr. Darton?" Jaygus asked politely.  Ky looked back to the walkway where Darton left down, not being able to see him nor his shadow, and then back at the group, searching everyone of their vapid eyes, then Jaygus' blissful ones.

                "….Now." Ky said with a bit of reserved forcefulness.  He took a few steps forward, his sword in sheath, in perfect sequence with every step he took, the other soldiers standing up, collecting removed gauntlets and swords, snapping it all up, getting ready, and walking after Ky with no argument.  Something was odd about the soldiers though.  Not their demeanor at leaving Quint, or their removal of equipment while resting, but their garbs themselves.  Monks wore large draping gowns, as well as hoods.  The Seikishidan standard outfit was a descendant of this monestarial design, but more adapted to combat and versatility.  The holy white on most of the suits was draped in crimson on the edges, splotches here and there, drops and lines, all of the blood from dying and dead, human and Gear, telling their fate on the blouses of the living.  Even Ky, with his azure trimmed uniform had his share of fading crimson into brown, yet he shared that like a medal of honor, as all of the soldiers did on their uniform.  Jaygus however was slow to stand, looking at Ky walk along the opposite side of Floor C, and Darton still missing from his tour de force to C-403.  He stood there for about a minute, looking back and forth, before starting his walk after the end of Ky's small group of soldiers, heading to where ever the entrance was.  Hurry up, Mr. Darton, and don't be too late for the elevator.

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Zeronova's Notes
There's Chapter 6.  In the next few weeks, I will have less and less time on the computer, as I am in the middle of a move (same state).  I will keep all of my writing on a floppy, make visits to the library to check my thousands of reviews (just kidding), and to write up what I need.  I promise there will not be a slow in the Monday updates.  Also, thanks to Samuraiter for letting me use Jaygus.   Kind of cool to link stories, showing a sort of fan-canon world being built, as he will be using Quint in the near future in Identity One.  This was an author intervention chapter, as I like the character of the author, and he has some great analysis and background.  THe next two weeksI am going to be in Alabama, and when this is poted, Samuraiter will have posted it, as well as next weeks, so thanks to him for it.  By the time of Chapter 8, I will be back and kicking.  Stay tuned next Monday, for the next exciting episode of Desolate Gail: Dual Enmity!  Dun dun dun!
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