Time: 5:54 AM
En-route from the outskirts of Vesta Quarter to Faunus Quarter
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The sound of truck engines is a familiar melody in Samantha’s ears. But instead of just few vehicles, a parade of armored trucks can be seen traversing along the rocky roads. Four companies from Cat’s Eye Battalion are in this group, and the destination will be Faunus Quarter. With Samantha hugging her rifle close, occasional flashes of lights pan their truck, with the sun having not risen yet.
With most still dozy from waking up early, Red Sparrow Platoon uses only one truck. Samantha is situated between her corporal and a member of Fornax Squad. Things do be different—but at the same time—Samantha has enough familiarity in this setting.
The journey will still take a while, and so, Samantha leans her head down a bit.
A young boy with pale hair and emotionless crimson eyes stares at his own writing, done with a twig to the soil. It is an attempt to create a caricature of a bird, except it being eerily closer to a hand weapon. Nothing is clear in those eyes if there is a disappointment or confusion, but then, an experiment with drawing is the only thing he can do for now. Being left alone by their so called guardian, the children are on their own devices to tend to this house. The iron gate is taller than them and the lock makes it certain that no one can pass through it.
Samantha has been staring on the ‘barrier’ all day.
She steps out of the balcony, only to notice the white-haired boy dragging the stick again to the ground. Curious, Samantha goes to his side, observing his creations.
“What’s that, Jonah?” she asks.
Jonah stops, seemingly analyzing it.
“I’m trying to draw a Hollow,” he says. “Teacher said they often change and no road is permanent inside. I just imagine what will happen if we get trapped inside.”
Samantha grabs a twig nearby and draws three stick figures.
“Cynthia was good in computing paths. Perhaps if she’s around, we won’t get lost, right?” Samantha says.
“There’s still high chance we’ll get separated,” Jonah says, as a slight flinch is marked on his eyes. “Don’t get lost inside the Hollows, Sam.”
Samantha then draws curve line intersecting to the hands of the stick figures.
“We just need to get a yarn to bind us together, then we’ll find each other again.”
Jonah looks deeply at the sketch. Contemplating, he faces Samantha.
Then nods.
Samantha opens her eyes.
A distant memory. Something least she expects to dream.
She looks at her wristwatch, placed around her left wrist. It has been 39 minutes since their departure, and if memory serves right, their arrival at the destination will be in less than 25 minutes.
And then, a nudge from the right side, and a biscuit being offered.
“Want some?”
Elly Morgan. The Fornax soldier. She nudges again, making it more available for Samantha to reach.
Which Samantha does.
The young sniper takes a bite. The flavor is a mix of chocolate and milk. Another bite and two—and then all consumed.
“You like more?” Elly nudges again. Samantha nods.
Another biscuit.
Samantha glimpses of the lightening sky and the morning dew becomes more present in her nostrils. The mountain is on the horizon as the giant blob of unknown matter pokes from the distance.
It is going to be a long day.
Samantha remembers a huge amount of paperwork when it was announced she would be going into the military. Answering questions about what she has been trained for, she is confused why at first. Basic firing skills, combat capabilities, land navigation, and even Hollow exploration experiences. Because of the unusual predicament she is in, the Defense Force warrants those skills to be answered and assessed, or the application will be voided out.
Samantha jumps off the truck, as the scene before her is a line of tents while bordered with makeshift walls. This is the outpost and their home for months, and she can spot the Hadrian Hollow a good hundred or two meters away from their distance.
A giant, ominous, sphere of anomalies. No one even knows what lies inside except one has the gnarl to enter such an unsafe zone. The color being deep black, similar to a void, hides the mysteries that cannot be observed from anyone outside without the needed tools.
“We’re gonna share a tent with Lyre Squad,” Sheena informs. “Minimize trouble, alright?”
Samantha spots a dashing object passes through their side, only to see Charles tackling Ivan from behind. Sheena narrows her eyes—then facepalms.
“Stressed again, Sergeant?” Charity asks, walking beside her.
“First in the morning,” Sheena says, dreading.
“Want me to knock him on the head?” Charity offers while staring at Charles’ back.
“Well, thanks for the offer…”
They enter their designated tent, and a line of foldable camping beds is on each side. There are a couple of tables, and the tent ceiling is high enough. The elevation is quite nice, and there are racks where belongings and such can be used for.
The rest of Lyre Squad already occupies the tent, as Sheena approaches the Lyre’s squad leader.
“Staff Sergeant Charow, have you chosen the beds for your team?” Sheena asks.
Charow faces her. “Not yet. I asked Redford for a sortition.”
Sheena turns to her squadmates. “Just wait a little bit before choosing your beds.”
Samantha just stands behind Sheena while Myrna is fixing the kid’s bangs. Sheena fixates her stare to the squad’s kid and gently caresses her head while waiting.
“Sarge,” George says and hands a plastic jar with rolled papers to Charow.
“Thanks,” Charow says. “Sheena, let the privates pick first then upwards.”
Sheena nods. “Alright.”
Myrna lets Samantha takes first, and they proceed in ranks as ordered. Sheena gets the second to the last, with Charow with the very last.
Samantha picks the bed near the end of the tent, with Ivan next to her near the wall. On her right side is Alisa, and she is sandwiched between Lyre Squad members. They start to place their bags under their beds, when Alisa approaches the young soldier.
“We can switch beds. Myrna is right next to me,” Alisa says.
“Is that allowed?” Samantha asks.
Alisa smiles. “Of course. It’s better for you to be just beside each other.”
Samantha agrees with the arrangement, with Alisa even helping her move her bag. With everyone sorted out in their spots, Samantha attains a moment of peach by just sitting down on her bed.
Outside this outpost is the dense forest of Plutarch Mountains, and the earliest test she has been given back then is exploring a similar place.
To survive the harshness of nature and the volatility of a human.
Getting bitten by the ants on the neck is unpleasant, while sweat and dirt can amplify the ick. This experience is Samantha’s first taste of discomfort with the dread of not seeing another day, yet it is also the same thing that earns her place and praise from Fenrir.
Silent. Obedient. Deadly. Three adjectives that a sniper must possess.
The next day arrives shortly, and their platoon is tasked with patrolling a certain area in the mountains. Intel says of an insurgent group hiding in the jungle, and their presumed goal is to disrupt the government’s operation in clearing Hadrian Hollow. Reasons why and all, everything is a speculation. Some says it is a mere dislike of military presence, some because of TOPS using this situation to gain control with the local tribes. However, one thing is certain, Faunus Quarter has been always an area of contention, and the natives refuse to surrender with the whims of other people.
As Charles is taking point for their unit, Charow serves as the element leader. They move in a single file as the forest is dense with vegetation. Sheena is the second after Charles, carrying a cell-like device for maintaining communication to the outpost. Following is Alisa, George, Myrna, Samantha, Ivan, and Nigel in the last. Helmet, visors and mask, everyone is fully geared.
Charles stops and turns around, raising his closed right hand. Charow signals everyone to crouch down. The patrol leader looks at Sheena as Sheena marks their arrival in the current location. Charow turns to George next, and as the unit’s engineer, he places down an anti-trap drone device on the ground. Pressing a key, the drone elevates three meters from the ground.
The soldiers maintain surveillance in their environment, with their rifle ready in case of contact. George watches the screen as the drone moves. After a minute or two, George raises a thumb.
Clear.
Charow turns again to Sheena, ordering her a message to the command center. A reply immediately, Sheena waves her palm in a circle above her head and follows with two active fingers in her left hand.
Full stop for two hours.
Charow sends everyone with the same hand signals, and each of them passes it to the soldier next to them. Each of them moves and they assemble a circling formation with their stomachs lying flatly on the ground. Rifles on front and scopes on, the watch begins.
As Staff Sergeant Charow sits in the middle, she cannot help but take glances with the youngest in their unit. A good and composed posture, Charow can tell those eyes are already riddled with violence.
Dormant pool bubbles again. Effervescing. It is not truly gone.
The day soon transitions into night.
Today’s duty is over. Dinner is just an hour ago. Others are preparing stuff before heading back to bed and as Samantha munches a striped candy, Ivan abruptly stops on his tracks and crouches down.
Alisa, right behind him, looks incredulously at her fallen teammate. “Oh! What happened to you?”
Unluckily, Charles is just across from them and has seen everything. Ivan has hit his toe on one of the folding beds.
“Haha!” Charles points at him and Ivan quickly gets up, aiming to punch the mocker. Alisa watches them, disgust written all over her face.
George arrives inside the busy tent. With each on their own, Charles goes where George is. Samantha keeps watching everyone’s mundane routines, as her eyes cannot help but stare to the Lyre Squad’s leader walking where Ivan is.
Out of all the people inside the tent, Samantha has not seen Staff Sergeant Charow in the same frequency as everyone else.
“What do you feel in today’s patrol?”
Samantha catches on the question, seemingly near her, yet the asker is looking at her. It is Alisa, who is combing her hair, who is just on the bed beside her.
“It’s…fine,” Samantha says.
“How fine?” Alisa muses. “I’ve been watching you earlier, and it feels like that you’re used to this a lot.”
Feeling like it is a question within the sentence, Samantha responds with a nod.
Alisa changes the position of her comb. “I see… I heard of similar stuff in the past, and my brother used to scare me so I can just go home early… I mean, don’t wanna become insensitive, but… I never imagined I’ll meet a real deal in my career.”
Samantha becomes confused. The hesitation in Alisa’s eyes. Careful picking of words.
It is now her opportunity to ask.
“It was pointed out to me several times… Was my case…an anomaly?” Samantha asks. Alisa slows down her combing until she decides to set it aside.
“I…can’t say it’s an anomaly. Unusual yes,” Alisa says, “but to be fair I think that’s the wrong word. If you’re already that good with rifle, this isn’t your first time either. I started learning how to use one just around eight months ago, and I still get it wrong…”
Samantha clenches her fists a little.
“Corporal said that it was better that I should not be here…” Samantha says. “I wonder why…”
Alisa relaxes her face then tries to look straight to Samantha’s eyes.
“It’s a policy in the Chrysoberyl Division that we’re not letting anyone under 16 years of age to serve. It’s a topic that divides people’s perception about the Defense Force, and we can say indeed your case was an anomaly. We’re still figuring out why it was broken,” Alisa says. “As for the other divisions… It’s mostly just a rumor, but they…are resorting to unconventional methods…”
Samantha becomes more confused.
“Why…so? Isn’t if someone skilled enough, they must…serve the greater good? No matter who they are?” Samantha asks.
Alisa leaves her bed and sits beside the fourteen-year-old kid.
“Have you been in school, Sammy?” Alisa asks.
“School…?”
Alisa suddenly stops. Samantha dreads she must have given a wrong answer.
But…why she will feel this way?
“You don’t know what a school is?” Alisa asks again.
“I…” Samantha looks down, “…heard it before, but I’ve never been in one.”
“Oh my gosh,” Alisa whispers. “Well, uhh… Do you know how to read or write?” Samantha nods. “Who taught you?” she asks again.
“My teacher taught me…”
Alisa is the one bewildered this time.
“Caritas, are you available right now?”
Staff Sergeant Charow stands beside them.
Alisa stands. “I’m free, Sergeant…”
“Let’s talk outside,” Charow commands and moves on. Alisa glances at Samantha with an apologetic smile as the latter watches the two Lyre Squad members leaving the tent.
Samantha then looks down at her almost run-out candy. A tighter grip. The uneasiness cannot be ignored anymore.
Perhaps, something is missing in her life.
Reaching a non-crowded area within the outpost, Staff Sergeant Charow stops her tracks and turns around to face her subordinate.
“I see that you are talking with the Corax’s sniper,” Charow opens up the topic.
Alisa is uncertain where this conversation will go, but she just nods.
“Is there something wrong…from what I did, sarge?” Alisa asks.
Charow shakes her head. “Nothing in particular, but I suggest that you must keep a bit of distance away from her. I have to confirm certain things.”
“…What do you mean?”
Charow stares at the horizon for a moment then into Alisa’s eyes. “I heard what you talked about, and indeed, kids like her won’t be able to have normal education. Think deeper, why is she here in the first place?”
Alisa thinks hard—but there is an obvious answer.
“Because we live in these desperate times, sarge,” Alisa says, “and someone like her is a product of…that desperation.”
“We might think we have been complacent enough because our civilization appears to be recovering, no?” Charow pauses and exhales. “You’re correct, and that’s why I want you to be smart about it. We never know her true background, except for one thing that she came from a high-profile mercenary group.”
Alisa’s eyes widen.
Charow goes on. “I won’t stop you from talking with her, but I just want you to be careful. I know she’s just fourteen, but she’s not just an ordinary fourteen-year-old. We heard enough tales of children being used in war, and our times…cannot be even more different about it.”
Alisa tries to process what her superior has told her. There is indeed no way a child will be entered into Chrysoberyl just like that, but hearing this revelation is supposed not to be surprising—yet it still shocks her at best.
“Sarge, this may sound impertinent and please forgive me about it but…” Alisa ponders before continuing, “don’t you think it’s unfair for her? She may not be ordinary but…all I can see is an innocent kid.”
“I’m certain she has taken lives already with how she holds the rifle,” Charow says, “but don’t mistake me, I’m not faulting that entirely on her. All I ask is maintain a healthy distance and if I was wrong about her…then it’s a relief. I just want my soldiers to remain alive until you finish your contracts. That way, I can say I did a good job as the squad leader.” A brief pause. “You can now return to the tent. Dismiss.”
Burn. Alisa’s heart is burning. She salutes first before leaving.
But now, she has a bigger reason to not let things as it is.
Sunday quickly arrives.
From patrolling duties in the past few days, the platoon has been spared a day off. Towards the Bravo Unit of Red Sparrow Platoon, most of the members are resting, but notably, three quarters of Corax Squad cannot be found within the tent.
From a barrel, a bullet shoots off and goes straight in the middle of the target.
Charles is scratching his chin as Samantha reloads the magnum rifle. Myrna is crouched down beside Charles, simply in awe at Samantha’s patience in her current position. They have been here in the shooting range within the outpost for a good five hours, and seemingly, Charles is testing Samantha’s skills as a sniper.
“How long can you stay awake in one position, by the way, Sammy?” Charles asks.
“48 hours. 56 hours at best…” Samantha says, without much movement in her position. “I’m…still trying to work on it better…”
“56 huh?” Charles says. “Reminds me, I heard you took a specialized scout sniper test beforehand.”
“Yes,” Samantha answers.
“I wonder if they give you the standard one. On our end, we need to go through three tests first before getting qualified to enroll in sniper school.”
“I was sent to missions as tests,” Samantha says, “but I wasn’t allowed to disclose any more details.”
Charles nods. “Oh yeah, that’s understandable.”
Samantha shoots again when Myrna then turns to Charles.
“I know that spotters do have their own assessment and training programs,” Myrna says.
“That’s right. There might be a day that another part of our team must take it, I believe it might be you, or they’ll assign another one,” Charles says. “For now, I’ll be Samantha’s spotter in case they assigned a recon mission to us.”
Myrna frowns. “I believe someone had to be smart in that role…”
“Haha, you’ll never know, Myrna.”
A shot—and the hole is at least half inches up from the center of the target board.
“Sam, rate yourself from one to ten in reading the wind, weather, and rotation?” Charles asks.
“Eight. Seven. Eight.”
“Hoo…” Charles appears fascinated. “I think we’re gonna get along well. It seems you are taught well, huh…”
“I’m learning everyday…” Myrna says.
Charles leans back, using his hands as support for his body. “It just boils down to a simple thing. If we can’t adapt, we die. It’s the brigade’s motto… Do you agree, Sammy?”
Samantha does not move and remains unmoving in her spot. Carefully assessing the environment once again, she pulls the trigger—and the bullet shoots through.
A bang.
Katya watches Raigh winning in the firefight from her scope, as she is situated on the rooftop of a building. The night sky is dark because of the clouds when it illuminates a bit again, brandishing the moon almost in its full form. Beside her is Erol, who has a carbine with him, acting as Katya’s spotter.
She grabs something on the side—a red bean bun—and bites it.
Erol watches the building with a spotter scope as their mission involves in capturing a high value target, who has hands of a false delivery of armament with the gang who commissioned Fenrir. It is said they are serving an underground familia, and they need to keep the target alive to elicit information about the falsifying transactions.
As the watch goes on, Lugh almost gets stabbed by the enemy—if not for Raigh shooting the enemy faster.
“Oh man, Lugh is stressing me out,” Erol complains, “can we just not allow him in these infiltration missions?”
“You’re too distracted, Erol. Focus,” Katya says.
“How many times we almost fail because of him?”
“And we’re still able to deliver missions well. Tell your complaints to Martin, not to me.”
“Side with me a bit?” Erol says. “I don’t like we keep on letting him do poorly like this.”
“If he’s that careless, he would have been dead long ago. Also, can you know how to shut up about this, we can talk about this all day, not during duty hours,” Katya says.
Lugh suddenly lunges and knocks someone unconscious who almost got his twin brother.
“Tch.” Erol twitches.
“See, he’s doing good,” Katya says and bites the bun again. “Trust them more, Erol.”
Erol grunts and begrudgingly continues the watch. Katya grabs a water bottle next to drink, and a red bean bun to Erol.
“…Gee thanks…” Erol accepts it. He stares at the bun for a moment, reminiscing about a certain kid who is fond of it. “The only way to get that kid’s attention is this food. She’s quite lucky, she didn’t have to experience the crucible.”
“Define lucky in this world, Erol.”
“Better than getting engulfed by a Hollow at that age.”
“I don’t think she’s even that lucky after being raised by a monster.”
Erol takes a bite. “We raised her, too, you know.”
“We’re nothing different.”
“Right on that. I think she’s just lucky to have you.”
Katya has sheer concentration on every mission, and even with distractions around, she can remain pointed with the objectives. But then, the last remark has made her flinch a little—much in wanting to reject it, yet this is a notion that bugs her mind ever since she met the young blonde kid.
“I was the lucky one to meet her.”