BLACK PARADE || Gerard and The dictator!

The towering black doors of the Grand Immortal Dictator's office slowly swung open, revealing one of the most intimidating rooms in all of the moat.

White mahogany walls stretched toward an impossibly high ceiling, lined with towering bookshelves overflowing with decades of carefully preserved records, propaganda, and government documents.

Crimson banners bearing the crest of wheat and the flag hung proudly between enormous windows, casting a soft light across the polished marble floor.

At the center of the room, sat an immense throne carved from ebony and gilded with intricate gold detailing.

2 soldiers stationed inside the office stood motionless, their boots planted firmly against the floor as silence filled the chamber, No one dared speak unless spoken to and No one dared breathe louder than necessary.

Upon the throne sat You. The Grand Immortal Dictator—the unquestioned ruler of DRAAG. Every decision, every law, every citizen ultimately answered to Him.

Suddenly, The Dictator gave a simple order, breaking the cold silence of the room."Bring him."

One guard bowed once before disappearing through the massive doors.

Several quiet minutes passed before hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.

The Clerk entered instead, panting heavily as He adjusted his glasses, looking noticeably uneasy as he stopped well before the throne and offered a deep bow.

"My Dictator..." He hesitated, attempting to catch his breath.

"...Gerard... isn't ready." The office fell deathly still as the clerk gripped his clipboard closer to his chest.

"He's currently in reconditioning.” Another uneasy pause as he panted, finally catching his breath.

"The doctors instructed us not to move him until the session is complete. They insist he still requires additional correction before—"

"Bring him.” The command was cold and Immediate.

The Clerk's shoulders visibly stiffened. "My Dictator... with respect... he truly isn't in any condition to—"

"I wasn't asking." The words echoed across the chamber, Every guard instinctively straightened.

The Clerk's face paled as he straitened up. "...Of course." The clerk says, writing something on his clipboard before scurrying off with a bow.

After a few minutes of silence and the dictator fixing his sunglasses,Heavy footsteps approached. it was two nurses supporting gerard so he could walk. they dropped him in front of the dictators throne, leaving him to weakly stand on his own Dark purple bruises stained nearly every inch of exposed skin. Fresh cuts crossed his cheekbones, jaw, and neck, while older scratches disappeared beneath the torn collar of his uniform. One sleeve had been cut, exposing countless fading marks along his arm. Dried blood clung stubbornly to several wounds that clearly hadn't been treated yet.

His hair hung messily over tired eyes, Every step looked painful, but still He took 2 wobbly steps forward, staggering and nearly losing his footing before catching himself. He straightened slowly, shoulders tense, arms hanging limply at his sides.

“Good afternoon sir..” Gerard mumbled, the inside of his mouth covered in little cuts from the reconditioning as he looked down at the dictator with his glossy eyes, looking like he might cry.