charlie dalgleish (slimecicle) has to be the closest example of christopher hartley... like i'm sorry but i will always headcanon charlie dalgleish to be actually christopher hartley in disguise
author's note: this isn't going to be 100% accurate to the franchise, and there's going to be a lot of angst or very sensitive themes [such as death, psychological suffering, self harm... etc] in this work! please scroll if u don't like that.
teen-soldier!Gally who was hauled away from his family once the trials began, forcing him to attend military training and english lessons [he ended up gaining a subtle british accent that he tends to hide], but despite all the english lessons and military training he took, Gally felt isolated and scared, not seeming to trust anyone near his age or older..
teen-soldier!Gally who quickly learns that empathy is something fragile, something vulnerable, and cannot be shown to everyone or everything... having to hide away his emotions whilst manhandling test subjects or holding a gun to their head.. sometimes a flicker of guilt washes over his face since they're the same age as him... yet it vanishes.
teen-soldier!Gally who absentmindedly rubs the text on his dog-tag when nervous, unfortunately it worsens his state... beginning to think about how he would die sooner or later alone—violent and slow.... causing Gally to press his finger into embossed metal.. only for him to end up somehow hurting himself—metal digging harshly into his skin.
teen-soldier!Gally who seems to have severe temper issues, arguing with his colleagues whilst they're on their daily route or with test subjects who are being too defiant... only for him to regret his words afterwards, trying to teach himself patience.... just so he doesn't snap next time, but of course.. it never seems to work out..
they were in the dressing room. everybody was getting ready to take off their uniforms for the day, and get some much needed rest.
unfortunately one of his colleagues—one that Gally barely interacted with—decided to let a comment slip out of his mouth, talking about how the blond seemed to interact with one of the subjects today. "didn't know that you were such a softhearted person, maybe you're not meant for this job after all... huh?"
within seconds, the shorter boy got slammed against the lockers with a loud thud. "don't talk as if you're any better, you would've died outside! if i were you? i'd cherish the fact that i wouldn't have to even think about holding a gun!" Gally spat out whilst glaring down at him.
he was right. the shorter boy was fragile, he seemed more slim and his hands slightly shook whenever he grasped the grip of a pistol. he wouldn't even have made it there.
teen-soldier!Gally who got curious about GROUP-A?? pausing in his footsteps to stare at the cameras that were filming their every move in real time—it would make him be late to meetings or scheduled things, the boy couldn't help to start wondering... what would've been different if he was a subject too? would he make friends? find someone that would listen to his ongoing, cluttered thoughts? these were questions that he couldn't seem to answer on his own.
teen-soldier!Gally who desperately wanted to help GROUP-A escape the facility, yet never could because he was stuck in another section... feeling relieved when he got the news by one of his colleagues that they managed to escape on their own.. weird... why should he be relieved when he never was apart of their group anyways?
teen-soldier!Gally who was fifteen. he had more blood on his hands than most of the people working alongside him. Gally desperately craved freedom, yet there was nothing he could do about it... especially during car rides through the city, as much as he wanted to smash a window or shoot everyone dead.. just so he could catch a glimpse of freedom, it wasn't an option. someday. someday he would find his freedom.
teen-soldier!Gally who died whilst trying to flee; he was leaning back against the seat, blood drooling down his chin and onto his shirt whilst his hand began to loosen his grip onto the steering wheel. the sun was slowly dipping, and the sky was beginning to turn into a vibrant sunset, he had only made it halfway across the mexican desert.. but in some way, this was his freedom, Gally's head dropped forward with a light smack onto the steering wheel, bloodied dog-tag dangling down from his neck.... maybe in another life? he would've been a subject, maybe he would've been somewhere safe.. or maybe he would've felt the taste of freedom without having to die for a brief look.
GROUP-A! who ran around Gally's mind as he passed away.
[p.s mind over matter by young the giant is playing on the radio.]
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