[h2] Tales From the Front[/h2] [b]Aden[/b] The makeshift dance had ended a while ago. Leaving a comfortable silence as the pair had fallen back into the couch. Aden moving to light up a cigar before he stopped; the unlit cigar halfway to his lighter. The emblem of the 46th Alpine visible. Memories returning as his suddenly shaky hands closed the lighter. "You know I never used to smoke." He cut through the silence. Finger's rubbing over chipped facade of the lighter. "Started a few days after this whole mess started. It was actually my friend, Ellis....." [hider= Frontline Vendetta] "Inhale deeply when you take a puff." Aden copied his friend, suddenly hacking up a lung as the trio of soldiers around him laughed. Ellis slapping his back. "First one's always the hardest." Aden tried to smile through the coughing. Moments of levity were brief nowadays. It was easy for the four soldier's crowded into the rocky outcropping to pretend this was just a trip into the rough lands around the mountains. That this wasn't the latest hasty bivouac in the jumbled retreat. That they hadn't left the bodies of their company south under the guns of Communalist artillery and gas. They were all tired. Rock dust and grime coated their uniforms and gear. Their rations would last another couple of days if they stretched them; a little more for the water. Ammunition at least was plentiful; plenty of their comrades had fallen without firing their weapons. Same for the discarded gear they had found on their path north. Ellis took a puff on his dying stub of a cigarette and flicked the butt away with annoyance. A glance at the dwindling sun with discontent on his face. "Well, let's move while we still have some light." Moving during the day was dangerous but it was more dangerous navigating this broken, rough terrain in the darkness of a new moon. The Inburian soldier's dutifully packing away their rations and gears and making to sta- [i]POP. POP. POP.[/i] The sounds were distant. A week ago Aden couldn't have told you what they were. Now everyone knew that sound. "Mortars!!!!" The cry resounded as the four dove in scattered directions. The dreaded whistle arriving as Aden had reached what he hoped was the safety of a slight depression. Then the world was shaking and fire. Aden covered his head as his ears rang. He wasn't sure how long it lasted; an eternity could have passed in a second in the time it took for Aden to lift his head up. Impact craters surrounded him; shards of rock and strewn dirt mingled with red and pink. Aden's eyes widened as he took in the three masses that he had been laughing with a brief moment ago. Luck, some would say bad luck, had meant Aden had come out untouched. His comrades however had taken a direct round. The 62mm round having found the perfect angle to hit all of their makeshift redoubts. Aden staggered over on unsteady legs. The only one he could recognize was Ellis; the man missing from mid chest down. Other then the blood spattering his rapidly paling face; Ellis looked peaceful. First, it had been Lucius. Now, Ellis. A distant glint drew his attention. A consistent one; like sunlight reflecting off- His hands reached for the tangled straps of his field glasses. The binoculars coming up in time to see the distant figures of a dozen or so men sliding down a hill. Sunlight glinting off a wayward pair of binoculars judging by its position on the man's body. The distant Calarians labored under what looked a load of circular objects and long tubes. '[i]Mortars and baseplates[/i]' Aden realized. The mortar section displacing after firing a round of opportunity at Aden's squad. Probably thinking him dead when he hadn't emerged. Something stirred in his chest. The mortars were too far away for his rifle. They were definitely on the part of the high ground that favored the Communalist advances. They would continue to do their job. Lobbing mortars at whatever they needed. At Inburian squads that had men like Ellis and Aden. Aden glanced north. In the direction of relatively safer terrain and more Inburian army units. Then he glanced south. In the direction the mortars had gone. The mortars didn't know Aden. He didn't know any of the mortars section. But this was personal. He took a precious few seconds to close Ellis' eyes. A few guilty seconds to pull whatever was useful off his former friend. A dog tag, a couple of stripper clips that were stuffed in a chest pocket; and an abused lighter. The fading chipped emblem of the 46th Alpine looking muted and sad. Aden stared at the object for a few wasted seconds before he stuffed it in a chest pocket; a mirror of where Ellis had stored it. The private setting off south. --------- It had taken two days for Aden to pick up the trail. The mountains and hills made tracking rough; pursuing said trails even rougher. Not helped by having to avoid the scattering of forces that made their way through the terrain. The lightning advance of the Calarian's having the effect of leaving their vanguards, at least in the moment, as disorganized as the retreating Inburians. Which meant Aden only had to sneak around platoons and squads and not companies and battalions. Sleep was quick thirty minute affairs he took fitfully; wrapped in a blanket and clutching his rifle. He was tired. Exhausted, more so then any time in the last week. But here he was. Prone, on a rise overlooking the shallow valley. Fourteen Calarian mortarman loitered below him. Three tubes and their equipment stacked neatly on side of their campsite. A pair of fires had been started with the sparse vegetation and branches they had scrounged. Their bedrolls were rolled out and a pot had been affixed over one fire. The team taking a break; confident in security despite the mixed natures of the lines. Though given how far south they were; Aden guessed they figured they could afford the cockiness. How wrong that was. He took his time. Waiting for the right time as he set the scene. Carefully laying out the spare ammunition he would need. Prepping, his pack to use as a rest. Guessing the range of the nearest to farthest shots he would take. All while he waited for the sun to set behind him. '[i]There[/i]' The valley below was illuminated, the sun over his shoulder so they would have to squint to see him; if they could make him out at that distance. His finger found the trigger; setting against it gently as the reticule floated over his first victim. A slow exhale. A slower squeeze- The recoil of the shot. Instinct, as he threw the bolt back and sighted back in. Chaos below as the mortarmen saw their first fellow fall. No cover was in the valley though; the sparse vegetation having been gathered for their campfires. Another mortarman fell in his sight. Another squeeze. A familiar pattern for the next three minutes. Aden struck down the brave first. The ones that tried to run. Tried to rally the section. One attempted to turn a mortar; futile but better then nothing. Aden's round struck him through the jaw. Higher then he wanted but effective. Rounds thumbed into the chamber and just as quickly fired. A man tried to low crawl; to where Aden had no idea. The angle meant Aden could se the length of the man's body. The shot took the man somewhere in the back; Aden saw him spasming through his reticule. Then it was quiet. No movement below. No distant cries of wounded. No report of Aden's rifle. He would have to move fast before any nearby units investigated. But first..... Picking his way down the four hundred meters to the valley was tricky. Dangerous if he had missed someone. But he had come this far for a personal feeling. It was poor form to leave a job unfinished. At first he found what he expected. The sprawled corpses that had once been a Calarian mortar section. Enemy uniforms in rapidly expanding pools of red. Dead as if each of his bullets had been touched by Death itself. A satisfied internal smirk even as he tipped over corpses with a boot; pistol at the ready. Then he found them. There were two of them. One's face was slack; their eyes closed and face white like a ghost. Their laborious breathing the only sign that the kid was still alive. That's what he was; a kid. Younger then even Aden and wearing a Calarian uniform with a red stain expanding from the bullet wound in the chest. The second's features were finer. A second for Aden to realize that the second soldier was a female; hair cut boyishly short. Still young too; the same age as the first soldier. Her breaths rapid panting that flecked her lips with pink froth. A hasty bandage applied to her side spoke of a lung shot. A soon to be fatal wound. Not that she seemed to care her focus on the first soldier. Clinging to him with a grip Aden could tell was all her strength. The two shared similar features that spoke of familial relations. Similar cheekbones and jaws that looked too alike for random chance. Even if the strength of which the second clung to the boy didn't clue Aden in to a deeper bond. But what struck him was her gaze. It looked at him not with hate. Not helplessness. Hazel orbs, nearly black with dilation and glassy from unshed tears of pain. They looked at him with confusion. She said something. He couldn't make it out. Her labored, breathing getting slower. Accent undecipherable. Her intent lost to pain and desperation. It could have been a curse. A question. A plea. Aden didn't know. What he did know was neither of them would make it. Not with those wounds. Not this deep into the wilderness. It had been so detached on the ledge. Sniping down. Even the after effects had seem so detached; with everyone neatly dead. Yet here were two victims of his handiwork; alive. Killing them... With a scope from four hundred meters it would have been easy. Here, as the scent of death began to swell and the still-conscious soldier looked up at him. Still cradling their brother. Not even reaching for a weapon. But helping them... He had tracked this section to avenge his brothers. Fourteen had to die to pay for the death of three. Why would he help two that he himself had shot? Even he knew that any help he gave would be an impossible shot at best. Another gurgling string of words from the soldier. More desperate now as she shook her brother. Aden stepped back. Suddenly, unable to meet her gaze. Movement and more gurgling as he backed away. Guilt now overcoming the satisfaction of earlier. He had caused this suffering. These two would suffer because he wasn't able to make a decision. Because he wasn't enough of a soldier to follow through on either option. So he left. Picking his way back through the detritus of what had been fourteen men (and a woman). The gurgling cries following him until they fell silent with the more distance he put between him and that damned valley. Yet, even as he trekked back north. He swore he could still hear that voice. Undecipherable, panicked breaths that Aden would now always hear as accusations. [/hider] "... I.... I never....I hadn't seen my work up close before that. They were just doing their job." A ragged breath as his eyes began to water. He tried not to cry. Especially in front of a girl. Especially if that girl was Zoe. But it was like ripping off a band aid. "But I made it personal. Killed a whole section because they killed one friend. Left a brother and sister dying on a mountain because I couldn't figure out what to do...." A sob as he buried his head in his hands.