The war had finally ended and many good soldiers had been killed. Gabriel Faile was one of them. At least most thought as much.
Three years ago his body washed up in St. George's Channel where it was taken into police custody. An attendant at the morgue soon after recognized signs of life coming from Gabriel's body hours after he had been rushed in. The nurse named Alexandra Fletch helped him on his way to recovery. After six months of physiotherapy he was ready to leave.
The Blace Lowe foundation had fished his Aries out of the Channel and repaired it, a snot nosed pilot named Gunther Abernathy was piloting it at the time. Gabriel made short work of him and returned to his status as a commander in the Blace Low Foundation's military where he was soon joined by his long time friend and colleague Xander Constantine. The two fought together until the very last battle where both were said to have died making their last stand for the Foundation.
The date today was December 24Th AC 199. Gabriel was now 23 and legally dead. Yet, here he stood in a cold graveyard late that December eve under the alias of Maxwell Heart. He stood dressed in a black suit with a single red rose in his hand as the cold wind flew threw his black over coat. The priest that stood at the head of the circle cried and stretched out his arms as he finished his prayer. Maxwell stepped foreword and laid the rose on the wooden coffin before looking up at the stone.
"Good bye Xavier. At least now you get to be wit' Mic'elle."
His french accent sounded as he laid a single medal down on the casket and his eyes danced over to a stone marked Michelle Constantine. He sighed deeply and felt a tear roll to his now dark and dull green eyes.
His hand reached up and rubbed the cross on his neck and stepped back. He wandered out of the graveyard and lit up a cigarette. Since that day he crashed into the Channel every drag on a cigarette made him thing of Seraphina. Every time he saw that cross in the mirror, every time his eyes shone through their vivid green, he thought of her. She made him what he used to be, so he had to change. Gabriel, Maxwell now sported short black hair, spiked up and wore a tight white T-shirt under a black leather jacket with black jeans and black workman's boots. He ran a hand through his spiky hair, it just didn't feel right. With his next drag thoughts of missing Gabriel flooded his mind. He missed who he used to be, but most of all he missed those wonderful days in Venice. The thought of those nights were what kept him fighting in the wars, thinking of coming home and marrying Seraphina, or at least seeing her again. He hadn't. He thought about tracking her down, but who wants to be hunted by a ghost, the ghost of Maxwell Heart, not even the ghost of Gabriel Faile.
Maxwell sighed and began to wander down the street wondering where he would end up next.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received
0.00 INK
in return for their work.