The sound of steps echoes through the glamorous hallway. On the side doors with labels can be seen.
A soldier wearing green camo clothes with red accents can be seen stopping in front of a door with the label "230", the last footstep echoing through the hallway. Readying himself, he knocks on the door.
_Knock knock knock_
A feminine voice resounds from behind the door.
"Coming!"
Opening the door a woman holding a baby greets the soldier, her black braided hair resting on her shoulder. A smile covered her face, her eyes shining as they reflect the orange light of the hallway. Seeing the soldier standing on the other side of the door, her smile suddenly vanishes.
The soldier greets the woman with a solemn face.
"Lea Paltover?"
"Y-yes?"
The soldier takes off his hat, carefully covering his torso with it.
"I-"
He is cut off.
The woman instantly falls to her knees. The hallway is filled with nothing but the woman's cries as she holds her baby...
***
Walking through the ruins, Ron stops for a second, looking to replenish his hunger. Looking to his right, he calls out to a nearby soldier.
"Hey, go collect some wood for me."
The soldier salutes.
"Sir, yes sir!"
He had found the soldier back at the base, when he suddenly came out of a nearby hangar as he was leaving the base behind to explore. Ron decided to keep him alive as he could be helpful in the future, and potentially have some information on the group that attacked the military base.
He was a proud soldier, listening to anything Ron had to say.
After a few minutes of waiting, the soldier comes back with a bunch of wood, gathered from the nearby buildings. Throwing the wood on the ground, he sits down opposite of Ron.
Ron looks at the man with a concerned face, then proceeds to try and light the fire with a lighter. As he lights the fire thoughts run across his head. Why was the man so happy?, they both resided in one of the few bases outside of London, both of them unlucky enough to be chosen for Birmingham duty.
With only the people at the base to talk to, they were all bound to make friends. And now the whole military base was dead, everybody except for them. Did he not care about the friends who had died at the base?
'I guess he had no friends.'
Ron doesn't care enough to ask, putting the meat in the pan, hovering over the fire, they both wait, the sound of cooking meat resounding in their ears. Ron breaks the awkward silence. Looking at the soldier with curiosity.
"Are you not sad?"
The soldier glances back at him.
"Pardon, sir?"
"I said, are you not sad? Didn't you lose any friends back at the military base? Are you not concerned you're going to die out here?. It's surprising to see you still trying to live."
The soldier solemnly looks at the fire.
"Yes... I did lose many friends back there. I was the only one lucky enough to be spared."
The soldier starts shaking, tears gradually coming out of his eyes.
"But you know, i still want to live. My friends, my family, they are all rooting for me. I still want to see the rest of what the world has to offer, you know. I was lucky enough to be spared, how could I be sad when i get to keep on living."
He pauses for a second, recovering his composure.
"How haven't I given up? I still have hope. Hope I can make it out, and if I can. Not only will I kill those who murdered my friends, but I will become strong enough to end this whole war once and for all."
Hearing those words, Ron couldn't help but laugh a bit.
"Pfft. You think you, a mundane human, can kill those kids back there? They are imperfect while you're a simple soldier."
Ron takes the meat out of the pan, giving the soldier a piece of cooked meat. He continues.
"But I will try my best to see at least get to see you try. What you're trying sounds pretty fun."
Smiling back, the soldier asks.
"What about you, sir?"
Ron looks back confused.
"What about what?"
"What about your dream? Why do you continue trying?"
Ron looks up, thinking.
"Hm, i guess it's just what was given to me, you know. As an imperfect, you're normally expected to go to war and stuff... But I mean fighting people, it's pretty exciting, so I don't really mind."
The soldier looks at Ron, confused.
"Sir, may I ask, how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
Suddenly, they both turn silent. Both of them still chewing on the delicious cooked meat.
"Oh... Dang, I didn't expect you to be so young! That's impressive."
Standing up from his seat, Ron looks behind as he starts doing jumping jacks.
"Is it? I guess it is... I wouldn't know since other members of my family always shadowed me."
The soldier widens his eyes, surprised at the statement.
"Sorry for asking so many questions, sir, but may I ask... Who could be more promising than a sixteen-year-old second sergeant?"
Ron glances back for a second.
"My half-brother... Uh... let me try to remember..."
After a few seconds of thinking, he continues, his voice monotone.
"I think his name was Heim?"
Suddenly, the soldier goes silent, staring at Ron for a few minutes.
'Did I say something weird? Huh... whatever.'
Without any words Ron disappears from sight, the soldier is left blinking for a few seconds as the wind drags the dust left by his speed.