Jun. 2nd, 2015

redvest: mirroriste @ ij (We'll be there!)
He'd been young, when the pale wars had happened. Too young--nine years old, along with a group of others from France. They'd been in the united states, traveling as a group, apparently, when all of it had happened. Enjolras remembers the end, and only very little--he remembers Votans helping him, a crying child barely of 10, and an Irathian helping pry his hand away from his parents. An accident, the EMC said. Enjolras knew better: it was because they had been helping Votans of all kind.

The rest of the children--they called themselves Amis, and all retained as much of their French heritage as they could even know--found solace, after that, in Defiance. The town, yes, but the word as well--the Earth Military Coalition was barely a presence here. The wild west in a small mining town, or at least what he'd read in books left over.

Enjolras lived in relative peace--as peaceful as a soul as him could be. He'd always been attractive, decently educated--while none had adopted him he merely took care of himself. It helped to have those he could trust at his side, of course. Courfeyrac--whom most just called Courf--his second in command, one of his closest and trusted confidant, who worked with Enjolras and shared a small place with him. Courf, always taming Enjolras' wild spirit if need be with a gentle reminder not to get up in arms.

Even Courf, however, couldn't handle when Joshua Nolan shot a child and lead to the downfall of everything he loved about Defiance.

The Amis, gathering every night at the Need Want, began to plan. Even Grantaire, with his drunken slurring, lent a hand. Enjolras was sure that they were going to quietly reinstate the mayor--though the mayor, in his opinion, shouldn't have had Nolan there in the first place--when the new one rolled in.

It's an odd feeling, watching someone with a uniform you hate looking so well-put together. Attractive, even, and Enjolras isn't sure if the feeling in the pit of his stomach is hatred or desire. Both, he reasons: the desire to have that face, the hatred of what the uniform stands for. Still, he and the Amis duck down and keep quiet.

Two weeks later, Enjolras listens to the radio. Reads and views the announcements. Sees, more and more, that Niles Pottinger is the type that needs not to be decommissioned, but usurped. Enjolras spends more than enough time at the Need Want convincing his fellow Amis. Courf is in, of course, immediately--his Irathian girlfriend is as well. Combferre, Eponine, Marius, Joly, Fieully--they all agree.

Slowly, they spread the word. 'From Friends of the ABC' with every military injury from bombs. Help for those who need it in the Robin Hood-esque fashion of stealing from soldiers and giving to those unfortunate. Always, 'friends of the ABC.' Three letters that have unimaginable meaning to those with French names. To those Amis.

He's threatened, once. Enjolras is sure Niles Pottinger is on to him as he sits at the table the Amis are at, quietly and subtley telling him to end it. To end the thievery, the bombs. The occasional riot where Enjolras always seems to be able to disappear in the nick of time. Niles Pottinger mentions that perhaps Courfeyrac would be safer if Enjolras stops. Instead?

Instead, the Amis intercept a truck they know Niles is on. Instead, masked and toting weapons, the Friends of the ABC haul him out of the car. They kill because it is necessary: everyone but Niles. Enjolras is not a nice man, he is a just man--and, masked in a simple balaclava, he points a gun right at the mayor who's back is against the truck.

"Strip. Strip and kneel down," He orders, voice distinctly American for the time being. He's not going to give himself away. Let the mayor think they're raiders.

Profile

redvest: <user name=easycompany> (Default)
Enjolras

June 2015

S M T W T F S
 1 23456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
282930    

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 16th, 2025 11:04 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios