Work Text:
“So, uh, what’s ‘Harding’? Why do people both joke about it and treat it like it’s the name of some kind of monster?” the newbie asked the older agent.
“Oh, it’s just a scary story people around here tell. Can’t believe I finally get to be the one to tell it! Time flies.”
“I didn’t know this place had its own stories.”
“The general doesn’t like when people tell it since it’s ‘bad for morale’, but when was he ever fun, am I right?”
He chuckles at his own little joke.
“So, you wanna hear it?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Alright”, the older COI agent said.
He prepared his storyteller voice.
“A long time ago, there was a very diligent COI agent named Alphonse Harding.
One day, on a mission of his, the other soldiers left him for dead at the commanding officer’s word. As he lay dying, bleeding out in the cold woods, he was resentful of how they all left him behind.
He died in spite, and was resurrected by his rage, becoming a murderous spirit of revenge, killing anyone who dared contain his fury.
Nobody alive has seen him, because everyone who stood close enough to do it was already doomed.
He dismembered the soldiers who followed orders brutally, ripping off soldiers’ heads with nothing but his own fists and boots. People were impaled with tree bark and branches, and he could throw bear traps like they were as light as paper.
He could fly with wings with feathers of ice and frozen blood, and he swooped down from out of the sky to destroy every unfortunate soul in his way, like he was a punishment from God himself.
When the soldiers burned the forest to force him out, he walked out of the fire unharmed and slaughtered every last one.
When there were no more survivors, he looked out upon the destruction in triumph and finally found the peace he was looking for. With that, he returned to the woods he died in, never to be seen again.”
“So yeah, that’s it.” The older operative telling the story started to think aloud to himself. “Man, I forgot just how cool that story was.”
“Wow, that’s- Call this a stupid question, but… is- is he real?” the rookie sputtered.
“Legally, I’m supposed to say no. The whole concept is supernatural in nature, and there’s no info on an ‘Alphonse Harding’ in our database…”
He then paused for a moment to whisper the rest of it, like a secret.
“but between you and me, I do believe at least a quarter of it is based on things that really happened. Probably wouldn’t be telling the story if there was no real-life ‘Alphonse Harding’. It’s not the craziest thing to imagine.”
“You think he could really be out there somewhere?”
“Well, most people- ghosts or not- that find true peace don’t want to do much after that. Shouldn’t go looking for him, though. Wouldn’t want to give him a reason to come back.”
“Well, when it comes to not finding him, I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job!”
“You and me both, rookie. You and me both.”
They both share a quiet laugh before they part ways for the day. There are still missions that need to be done.
But Harding is still on the newbie’s mind.
He’s there, haunting, like a ghost you just can’t let go of.
No matter how hard you try.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhere in the forest, Alphonse Harding rests peacefully. Only the birds are his company here.
Here he is, unrecognized, undisturbed, unburdened,
dead to the world of other people,
and yet so, so wonderfully alive.