#kriegansbelike

[rojo-ojo]

"I am, in my basic essence."

He held up the mono-knife, touching the mounting ring where one would fit it to a bayonet lug.

"A bayonet."

He fixed the bayonet to the end of his shotgun, the long bladed dirk nearly doubling the length of the trenchgun.

"You can dig with a bayonet, but not as well as with a shovel. You can turn a screw with a bayonet, but not as well as with a driver. You can cook your food or clean your nails or carve a statue with a bayonet but you'd be better off with a kitchen knife or a file or a chisel."

He took an experimental jab with the weapon, practicing the downward strike, drilled in, hardwired, driving some imagined enemy into the dirt.

"You can stab a man with a screw driver. But not as well as you can with a bayonet."

He knew that from personal experience.

"I am a bayonet, capable of filling the shoes of other tools but never truly measuring up or exceeding them in utility save in one task."

Down thrust, weight into it, twist, pull free. Repeat.

"Twisting in a traitor's gut until he prays to the proper God for his salvation."

[rojo-ojo]

“The quiet time before, when you question it. The faith they put in you. The faith you put in yourself.” “Whether or not you can really do this.” “And then it’s time.” “A shudder, hands quaking, a scream, prepared like loaded ammunition pressing up against the inside of your throat.”  “Not Fear.” “Not Anymore.” “Anticipation.”

[rojo-ojo]

Is there a certain kill of yours that sticks out in your mind? One that was especially spectacular, lucky or heinous?

“Mercy kills are always... nasty.”He examined the coil of his plasma pistol closely, having field stripped it, turning it over and over again beneath the zoomed in vision of the electronic monocular attached to his mask. Even the most minute crack could cause the coil to fail... explosively... taking his hand with it. “You know how they say your whole life flashes before your eyes before you die?”Looking up at the camera, he pushed the monocular up on it’s armature. “It’s just like that, but it’s somebody else’s life. Every joke you shared. Every time you traded bits of your ration pack, covered each others asses, lied to the Commissar, talked about girls, shared a Lho Stick. All of it. It swells up in your throat, when yer lookin’ down at your friend, his chest full of Fleshboarers, scuttling around beneath his skin, like his insides are boiling. Begging you. Begging you.” The coil was fragged... too fragged repair. He grunted and tossed it away, lifting up the field stripped plasma pistol by the barrel, pressing the focusing dish to his forehead. “Hand on the barrel of your gun, sobbing, pleading. S’pretty hard. I’m not as good at is as some people.”He lifted up the ornate laspistol that laid on the table, the next thing that needed work. “But you know what they say about practice.”