I Hate You.

Winter in this hell hole tends to be as beautiful as it was harsh. The snow had faint shimmering colors, the cold was a sudden, harsh sadness. Rarely was there a warning before it came. Outside of a fortress looking building, snow piled up, being shoveled away by people who had yellow pupils. A large gate was closed, so even if they wanted to go inside, they couldn’t. But it didn’t seem like they were cold, just sitting there. Shoveling. Inside- beyond that gate- A group of people stand, eyes pointed downwards. They also bore yellow pupils, ahead of them. The entrance to the fortress. Inside, it had a red- velvet- carpet leading towards two sets of stairs. Up the left, barracks, where men bore silver armor with orange outlines down the sides. No symbol, as if they didn’t need it. Men laid in bed- sharing the same pose of laying on the back, hands neatly folded near the stomach. Still in armor despite the fact they should be sleeping. Up the right, a closed door. One man stood guard, bearing a spear lavishing in gold. The door creaked open, a man with silver hair, a smooth black outfit, buttons resting on the side- merely for style- and a red cape- trailing down his side to the back of his knee. The guard stepped aside and bowed his head. “Commander Father.” He uttered quickly. The man gave him a slight scowl, before stepping forward. Short leather boots tapped against the cobblestone.

The man slowly descended the stairs, the people inside of the castle quickly looked to his stairs. And sheathed their guns. None of the people downstairs bore spears nor blades. The man finally reached the bottom, looking at the group of people. “Bow.” With one word- it seemed to carry a shockwave, the people quickly fell to a knee, eyes focused onto the ground. Downstairs- the floor was carved of marble. Different from what the man upstairs walked on. The guard from upstairs finally made his way down. Standing in the shadow of the man, still holding the spear. The man slowly turned, extending one hand to the guard, who slowly- carefully placed it into his hand. The man grasped the spear, not tight, nor loose. A near perfect grip. He looked down at his people once more, and tapped the butt of the spear on the marble. They quickly stood as if hesitation were to kill them. He took another, slow, breath. “Back to work, trade positions with those outside.” He didn’t sound demanding- almost sounding casual now. He extended his arm- pointing the spear out past the gate. The people nodded and lowered the gate slowly. The man watched as it slowly descended from the hinges. The guards were careful, as if hearing a creak could kill them. The gate finally rested against the snow, the men slowly walked outside. The men who were shoveling stepped in, snow littered their hair and outfits. They walked towards a hall behind the left stairs. The man nodded slowly, seeming pleased.

The man extended the spear back to the guard, who slowly took it in both hands. “Thank you. Commander Father.” The guard ran back up the stairs swiftly, standing in front of the door once again. The man walked to the hall behind the right stairs, there was a single, small table, a single chair. The man slipped into the chair. His hands folding into his lap. He tapped the table 3 times. A man in all white stepped out of a door, a stove behind him, holding a platter full of assorted meats and fruits. It was placed onto the table before the man scurried back to the kitchen. He grabbed a fork and knife and cut into the meat, he didn’t question what it was from, just ate it. Suddenly, a knock at the gate. The fork slipped from his mouth before he could even finish the first bite. His eyes widened in disbelief, the people under his control were incapable of doing such things- even if they were dying!

He stood, seeming annoyed with this interruption. Who could get past all of the people outside- then KNOCK at HIS gate. Anger started to bubble inside of him for seemingly no reason- no not anger… Something far more volatile. “Spear.” He spoke calmly, the guard form earlier bolted down the stairs, quickly offering the spear over to the man. He practically snatched it- far less traditional than last time. He walked towards the gate, before pushing the gate down with on hand- causing the chain to strain and let out a loud *SCREEEEEEECH*. It slammed down, only to stop right before the floor. “Is that any way to greet a guest?” A figure walked from behind the gate, dropping it on the floor. The man bearing the spear seemed aggravated. “Who are you?” He asked, only for the other man to chuckle. “I am here to free these people. You see- your GHOST, from what I could gather, seems to control people, if I am not mistaken.” He paused waiting for a response from the man with white hair. “I won’t answer you, you're merely a rat in my way.” The man spouted at him in annoyance. The man grinned, looking past the Commander Father, nobody behind him. They were all still wherever they had been left. The Commander Father looked past him- only to see red splatters staining the once colorful snow. Bodies laid on the floor, two clean holes through their heads. “Sharpshooter- are you?” He smirked, before thrusting the spear forward, impaling the man. He coughed some blood, laughing weakly. “Damn- you figured me out so fast!” He pulled the spear out of himself. Healing slowly, before drawing a large revolver. It had two barrels- one on the top, and one on the bottom. He fired at him- aiming to nail him right in the head.

The Commander Father side stepped the shot- it fired out two bullets, from each barrel. “Hm, thought so.” He swung the spear at his neck level- cutting it slightly. Only for the gunslinger to do a smooth backstep, avoiding the attack's brunt. Only a thin red line drawing across his neck for a moment. He fired once more, grinning at him wildly. “NICE! Watch the gun!” The flipped it to his other hand- The Commander Father swung the spear- almost knocking it out of the air. But the Gunslinger slammed his right forearm into the spear, deflecting it. “Do you ever bite your tongue?” The Commander Father spoke in irritation. “Do you ever free people from your ghost?” The Gunslinger retorted.

The Commander Father scowled at him before lifting his leg, sending a kick right to his head. Causing him to stumble back. “You’re as stupid as you look, it seems.” His teeth clenching, eyes turning to a scowl. He was trying to read this Gunslinger… but it was like his mind was clouded from his taunts. “I HATE Y-” Before The Commander Father could finish his sentence, the Gunslinger fired two bullets- blowing his jaw clean off. “Ah ah ah~ I know how that GHOST of your’s works. You gotta admit that you hate someone right? The more you hate me, the more your all up in my fucking head.” He laughed at him, eyes closing, as if to were light hearted. The Commander Father gurgled at him before slamming his spear into the Gunslingers shoulder. He winced “Augh fuck! I forgot you're not dead yet…” His gun fell from his hand. His uninjured hand moved to punch him in the jaw- that wasn’t there. It whiffed. Causing him to snicker. “Oh shit!” He followed up with a punch to the gut, sending them back staggering. They both focused and healed, ready for round 2.

They both recovered finally, and The Commander Father swapped his spear to reverse grip suddenly. “Watch. Do not falter here, you are starting to impress me.” He admitted with a grin. The spear moved in circles, almost hypnotic, Suddenly, The Commander Father leaped over him. The Gunsliner quickly did a roll over to grab his gun. Checking if it was loaded. Without adding any bullets, he aimed it. The Commander Father seemed suspicious. “You have a trick up your sleeve!” He didn’t rush forward. Just like he thought, the Gunslinger fired several bullets at him- the gun should have been empty. “Damn- your smart ain’tcha! Not many people survive for this long!” The Commander Father ducked behind a wall suddenly, the sound was gone.

Suddenly, hundreds of guards jumped down from rails, the sounds of automatic gun fire echoed through the once peaceful halls. They eventually, very slowly… died down. The Commander Father knew that wouldn’t be enough to kill him though. “Do you know how much I hate you?” His voice called from behind a wall.

He waited for the sound of gunshots, maybe he’d shoot at him. He didn't hear anything. “If each snowflake fell from its grace, contained hate… I don’t think that would be enough to describe how much I hate you- no not you. Humanity…” He took a deep breath, preparing to deliver a speech, turning the corner, seeing all the guards dead two holes through the head. The gunslinger laid in the center, several bullet wounds, all direction, by a stroke of pure luck, they seemed to have missed his head. “Even if you're alive, I doubt you have enough left in you to heal from that.” The gunslinger let out a weak wheeze, his wounds closing slowly. The Commander Father walked over, impaling him in the chest with the butt of the spear, standing next to him, keeping it in him. “I looked out past my own secluded hills one day. I realized, humanity devolved.” He glanced down at the gunslinger who was no longer moving.

“It all started when HELL fired those missiles. I was alive that day. I was 13 at the time. I don’t exactly remember how I survived… I believe in a bunker of sorts with a few others. My parents didn’t make it.” He exhaled, his eyes closing for a moment. “But when HELL fired those missiles. I knew something was wrong. Not with them, not with me. But with humanity. I realized before anyone else did. Those missiles fired, taking half of the only habitable planet within our conceivable reach.” He extended a hand out towards the roof, as if trying to grab the sky and pull it down. “My time in the bunker allowed me to think. I was left alone most of the time, after all, who wants a poor child like me.” He glanced down at the gunslinger. Still immobile, he scowled at him. “Playing dead cannot help you now.” He sighed again, shifting where he stood. “I thought about what I would have done… if I were the government. I would have listened… so I thought… Why didn’t they?” His eyes inevitably fell back onto the gunslinger, he was healed fully. A slight raise of the brow from The Commander Father.

“I wondered… and wondered… Before long, I started to hate that they let us stay all alone. I grew over the years, you know that? I was 15 when I decided to leave the bunker. They told me not to go, but I told them ‘I don’t even know your names’. Despite them scavenging what little they could… I thought it better they didn’t leave… ever again.” He slowly pulled the butt of the spear out of the Gunslingers chest. Shaking the blood off. “I locked them in there… I kicked a fragile wall down, concrete fell onto the door. I could hear them pounding at the door… It disgusted me. The child they once ignored ended up deciding their fate. How I love irony.” He walked towards the window, looking out past the crimson stained snow, and towards the foliage past it. “At that moment, I think something more clicked. People rarely see past themselves… The greater good isn’t something made obvious to most. And when it is, they dismiss it. Finding themselves better than others. And the moment someone else decides their fate… Suddenly, they aren’t so important… not anymore.”

He looked towards where the Gunslinger should be laying, but instead he was raised to one knee, coughing up blood. He was trying to stand. The Commander Father walked over. “Oh my, how much effort you make, all just to become my slave… or dead. Either works.” He suddenly kicked him in the jaw; knocking him down. “That’s a lot of talking jus’ ta say you're a piece uh shit!” He laughed weakly. The Commander Father ignored him and stepped on his chest applying pressure. “I stepped out into this unfamiliar world. The radiation hit me hard, I think I nearly died within my first week on the surface… But like the rest of you. I gained the ability to regenerate. I heard legends of GHOSTS that give the user everything they wanted. So I decided, I was going to go look for one. I don’t know what I wanted at the time. I just know the GHOST was valuable. Powerful; Maybe it would give me control over my fate. And others…” As he spoke the Gunslinger tried to get back up. The Commander Father turned and threw the spear right into his lower abdomen. “Don’t move. I am not finished speaking, ant.”

He slowly inhaled again, eyes closing as he faced where the window was, the white hue painted over his face. “I grew up in the snow. Russia has a way of making snow feel normal. But you people nowadays rarely have any semblance of knowledge regarding the past. So I don’t expect you to know what Russia is.” He walked over to the Gunslinger, immobile again. “I don’t actually remember much of my youth after I started hunting for a GHOST. I bounced from town to town, and eventually, I found a small group of people hunting the same thing. I knew that they wouldn’t all stay so friendly once we found a GHOST. I think everyone knew that. But it doesn’t matter. I prepared, day by day. I listened to how they spoke, their life, their stories. Everytime they spoke. It sounded like they only cared for what they had. I never heard them speak of the others.” The gunslinger weakly grasped the spear, coughing and wheezing. The Commander Father scowled again. “But… Why am I talking to you? It’s not like I have to explain myself to you.” He walked over to the Gunslinger, taking the spear out of his stomach. “Shoo. I have no need for a dying lob of meat.” He grabs the Gunslinger by the back of the shirt. Dragging him towards the door. Trails of crimson liquid followed behind him. “You know more about me than I should have let you.” He dropped him outside the gate, rolling across the snow. He wasn’t bleeding anymore, but he was still weak. Barely able to stand, he slowly found some balance. Looking over at him. “I’ll be back…” He wheezed, planting right onto his stomach. The Commander Father raised the gate again.

The snow shimmered again… It wasn’t just the winter that was harsh. It was the people.