The Ouroboros Project: Trench Rat

3

The beautiful sunlight of the morning, interrupted by the far off bangs of German artillery. Gracie's eyes snapped open as she heard the echoes of chaos from afar, and the shout of Oisin from outside the barracks. She stared up at the ceiling of the garrison, the creaking wood giving her pause as to just how vulnerable her position was. She shifted around, before leaving the small cabin. Looking around, it was evident that everyone else had already gone on without her. All except for the other combat exorcists, and the shouting Irishman outside their resting place.

Everyone left in the barracks began getting prepared for deployment, grabbing their holy objects, and moving to meet Oisin outside. Gracie did as well, catching the eyes of Tom, who looked pale and frightened. She tilted her head, and approached him, his body trembling slightly.

"Tom, is everything alright? You look as pale as bone." She spoke softly, despite the bustle happening around her, looking into his eyes and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The man calmed for a moment, gulping, and breathing heavily. Shakily, he nodded his head, looking back at her."

His lip quivered as he spoke quietly, as if his vocal cords were being squeezed. "Jack, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm horrified. Had a bad dream last night about all of this. In it, I died, and they took my body to their side, and ate me. They feasted on my liver, fingers digging into my stomach. I.. It would be one thing if we were fighting people." His chest heaved unsteadily, his breathing losing pace, panic gripped the man. Clearly, he was unnerved due to what he had seen in this dream.

She nodded, and reached for the helmet that was resting on his bed. "Well," She spoke as she fit it onto his head, buckling it tight, so it wouldn't come loose. "I promise you, we won't let them eat your liver, or turn you into one of those demons. Our job is to not allow them to do it to anyone else. And we will complete it. You're my best friend, Tom. I've only been here for a day, and me saying you're my best friend probably doesn't mean much, but I do care.. Here."

She reached into the pouch on her hip, grasping at a clip of ammunition meant for her rifle. She held it up, and took the man's hand, opening his palm, and placing the clip in said palm. Then, she gently closed his hand, smiling warmly. "You can have some of my ammunition, if it makes you feel safer. You're probably a better shot than I, and you might make better use of it. But try to save it, just in case they get close to you, yeah?"

He shakily nodded again, taking his hand, and depositing the extra clip into a similar pouch on his own hip. "Jack, you really don't have to. Thank you, though. You're my friend too. Back on Blighty.. I um. I wasn't really the social type.. I was a choir boy. You're the nicest person I've met in some time. It's refreshing. Here. I have a crucifix backup, so don't worry." He balled up a hand around his neck, taking his concealed cross necklace off, and handing it to Gracie.

She smiled. "I'll be sure to wear it with honor, my friend."

The duo was interrupted by the pale Irishman entering the barracks, grabbing at Bridger's shoulder, and tugging. He paused for a moment, looking at the two, before scoffing slightly. "I need someone to drive shotgun with me. Jack, would you *kindly* join me in the front seat?" His grip on her shoulder tightened, nearly causing her to wince.

She looked to Tom, and nodded, following Oisin out, and to the transport car. She adjusted herself in the seat next to Oisin, and as the other men including Tom got into the back, he gazed into her eyes with a mix of curiosity and bitter abhorrence. His eyes though, they were something to behold. Gracie had never noticed it before, but the man had heterochromia. Green in one eye. A rich brown in the other. This, combined with his pale white skin, and orange curly hair, made him look almost unnatural. As if he were only maintaining a vague appearance of being human.

Once the rest of the combat exorcists entered the back of the car, he turned on the ignition, and began a moderate pace. Gracie had returned her gaze to the road ahead. The two didn't speak for about ten minutes. Surprisingly, it was Oisin who broke the silence, his harsh words accompanied with a fake grin. "So. I'm assuming you're happy about the death of the Murphy family, yeah? The Bridger family can finally win the artifact you people came over to Ireland 500 years ago for. You know, this rivalry our families have had.. All it brings is destruction. If it weren't for the things the Germans are doing to people, I'd have fought for them, against you. I guess.. Our families are fighting alongside each other. That's a first."

She grimaced. What the man said was true. Her ancestors were amongst the first British colonizers that came onto the island of Ireland, all the way back in the 1500's. It was a fact she wasn't proud of. Her family had fought with the native Murphy family for centuries over an artifact that was in their possession. It was rightfully theirs and she knew it. The artifact belonged to the natives. It wasn't a proud part of her family's history, what they did to the Irish natives. She often tried to not think about it.

She looked away from him, sighing. She leaned her head against the seat, and looked out at the fields from the window, as they disappeared behind the car. Her heart felt grief for the man. There was empathy, but there was also a level of bitterness. She herself hadn't engaged in what he was upset about. It was her ancestors and fellow countrymen. Nonetheless, she understood his pain. She wished to befriend him, but the man's cold, prickly exterior prevented such a thing. At least for now.

Though, it wouldn't stop her from at least trying to ease the tension. She looked back at him, saddened significantly. "Look, I'm sorry. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I didn't start this rivalry. Neither did you. We don't need to hate eachother so much. I don't even want the damn thing. I get it. You're not happy. But we either live together as allies, or we die together as enemies in front of a German firing squad. You're not stupid. You know this to be true. If they win, they'll tear apart families and innocents with their demons. I know you bear the pain of loss. We have to prevent it from becoming even greater."

The Irishman beside her quieted down, contemplative, before furrowing his brow. He scoffed. "Yeah. Easy for you to say that when you're.. You. Easy to take the moral high ground when you're rich and English. You don't know me, Bridger. My family wasn't as wealthy or influential as yours. I wish we were. We were farmers. Rural. Our family was already suffering.. We lost so many in the famine."

She nodded. "You're right. I don't know. So, if you will.. Tell me. We can tell eachother about our lives before this war, and what we want after this war. There has to be at least something you want, Mister Halifax. Women? Money? Men..?"

He smiled slightly, chuckling. "Ah, I don't swing that way Gracie, and you know it. All I want is my family back. My little sister. My brother.. I want to see the Emerald Isle again. The rolling hills. Cuisine that makes you feel at home. Better than any dish I've had in all of Britain and her Empire, whether it be the Raj, or even Canada." He then took a moment, before smirking. "You're an actor, yeah? What films were you in?"

She sighed, face turning to resemble that of someone who was asked something stupid. Oisin's jokes and jabs didn't often get to her, but this did. "Oisin. I don't want to talk about that. I'll tell you something else. Maybe about the time my family and I went to the Qing Dynasty before it collapsed. I was.. 17 at the time. 1912. Sad that it fractured last year. I'm sure you're keeping the people of China in your prayers. God only knows what's going on there. Beautiful place, you'd love it."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. Often times when he and Gracie spoke, she would try and maintain the moral high ground. It was probably her trying to justify herself. He knew though. He knew the types of films she was in. And for someone as proper as Gracie to partake in such barbarity, well, it made him smile.

"When this war is over.. What happens to us?"

His smile faded, and his eyes looked down for just a moment, returning to the road near instantly. His hand slid to his side. His Holster. He gently undid the flap, revealing the glistening metal of his revolver. He hadn't even stopped driving as he spoke. His demeanor was calm, yet clearly, anger boiled within. Though, it was the display of normalcy that put her off. He hadn't needed to pause for even a second to respond with such a threat. His knuckles tensed up on the wheel, the smile returning to his face, as if he were talking normally with a friend.

"Gracie. Any brutality the German Army has spared you by the end of this, I will personally give unto you."