The purging cold of a frozen forest was the last thing the young man could imagine himself in. Like many before he was pulled out of his home and told to fight for mere remnants of a place he had no familial attachment to. At first it was simply a message carrying a job, perfect on a resume, he was selected because of the fennec fox ears atop his head. Soon the mailman turned into a radio worker, which then turned into a reporter, which then turned into a signals Specialist, then frequency monitor, and finally jamming operations. He had read stories in the past, of war heroes, something about a knapsack on they’re back, and a rifle on they’re shoulder. The conflict came at an interesting time in his life, when he got back, if he got back, he would surely return as a mere child, subject to all the societal restraints and expectations of one. It didn’t help that his race naturally looked more immature than the average citizen. He tried not to think about it, and the bumping of the transport vehicle made that easy work.

  His knapsack was a leather harness that had a large jamming device strapped to it, almost as large as he was, and it sat in between his legs while they were in the vehicle. His trusty rifle, a mere metal bar with a couple hand grips and a metal detector on the end, other than that he had the same survival kit as everyone else, a hand flare, signaling mirror, and a knife in his pants pocket, that and an unknown black pill. There was another important item he made sure to acquire, a flask. For some reason, people cared less and less about drinking laws.

  He was an engineer, and the job came with a promotion. Two chevrons on the wrist of his uniform distinguished him from the average guy with a gun. Though it was not exactly a prestigious rank, he still answered to someone in much the same way as a child to a parent. He hated it, even risking death he was still a far cry from the noble knights of old. His prestigious position gave him no real benefits, and painted a massive target on his back, bonuses were given for a dead person of interest, and he was one. The giant “shoot me” antennae wasn’t much of a help either. He was going in with every disadvantage possible.

  The vehicle had many violent bumps during its journey, and the boy thought it would be much the same when the front of the vehicle was sent upwards, and then crashed back down in the snow, coming to an abrupt stop. His headphones protected him from the noise.

  “Shit are they here?” said one of the guns. There were 8 of them in the vehicle, most were panicking, until the Sergeant spoke up.

  “Shut up!” He thought for a second, looking through a view port, the group was silent. “We must’ve entered a minefield.” The realization came over them, they avoided mapped roads for this exact reason. If this was the first mine they hit, they were most likely in deep, every direction was equally risky, all but one. They could use the tracks left in the snow for safe passage back, at the risk of being called a traitor, none spoke of it. For them the only way was forward, breaking through the enemy defenses, crossing the ocean and meeting the enemy on his own land.

  “We have to continue on foot,” the Sergeant turned to the boy, unable to see his expression through his protective mask, “the mine detector, it’ll protect us right?” The boy turned on the device, “It's a metal detector, it’ll detect metal.” He left out the fact that some of these traps had no detectable metal in them, anywhere but backwards would be guaranteed death. The jammer on his back was a beacon for the enemy to find, but he was thankful for the mask, Faunus of his kind were unable to wear helmets.

  The trek started, they were unsure how far away they were from their objective, and advancing even one step carried a massive risk. The boy could only imagine 8 frozen corpses found in the snow, never having laid eyes on the enemy.

  They advanced, and memories of walking through the snow in the winter flooded the boys mind; he however, would have to stay here, unwilling to risk missing the beeping of the device, and aided in this goal by a special ear protection meant for top-head ears.

  “It just doesn’t make sense to me,” the guns started talking, probably to distract themselves. “Why would they push past their own beach, what claim do they have here?”

  “I heard they faced some retaliatory attacks for what happened during the collapse,”

  “Well they tried to nuke their neighbors so…” The boy was a child during the collapse, heroes emerged and defended the towns, but the monsters behind the assault were still out there, perhaps some were watching them at that very moment. He had heard of someone taking a leak at the wrong area, a beast took him, he was never seen again.

  Though he had never seen the black and red savages mentioned before bed, every movement was followed by wolves.

  The animal he feared the most was the merc. Someone so insane they left the safety of the neutral territory for the killing fields. If you threw someone like this against a group that was forced out of their homes and into boot camp… you get the idea.

  The hours passed, they had a general idea of where to go. The detector provided some relief, and the jammer meant no one would come to investigate the explosion.

  They needed to get out of the field, while it would not confirm they’re safety, a few hundred feet of silence from the device would convince them to walk normally. As they walked the boy thought about what would happen if the device failed, or if they crossed one of the plastic mines. Many different traps were used, by both sides, not a single one in the group could say whose mines they were avoiding, his thoughts were interrupted by a click, everyone heard it, they froze. The boy looked around for a plate he missed, he couldn’t find one. His heart started beating nearly out of his chest as he heard a hissing sound, “DIVE!!” and the group obliged. For a moment there was silence, the boy felt his heart stop, his body raised in temperature in spite of the cold on his face. Finally a conservative pop sounded near them, and he looked as a red light shot into the sky.

  “Shit, that wasn’t a mine,” he said, the others breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of what they were looking at. As a signals Specialist he served as a lookout for this type of flare, it was considered less cruel then a mine, in a couple minutes at most, the area would be caked with artillery. Now there really was only one way forward, and they had to run. The cold was made all the worse with the rush, the powdered snow made them fall over every so often, and they crawled to try to regain their speed. A blast went off in front of them, the rest of the group avoided the crater, but the boy ran straight into it. Statistically it was unlikely that another one would land in the same place. He dived into the crater and crawled out the other side. The group was all around him, and they kept running, but they didn’t get too close. Another blast sounded from the right, much closer. His ear protection limited the sound, allowing him to feel the shockwave by itself. The blasts continued, the group had gotten used to the sound, now they were just running in a straight line. “Cannon to the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon behind them.” The boy thought of the old poems from grade school.

  “Trucks!!” One of the guns called out, the boy caught up to him, sure enough several trucks were parked a ways away, probably outside the targeted area. That didn’t make them inviting, the boy looked at the other soldier, and then at the Sergeant, then behind him, he couldn’t see anyone else. The group took a hard right following the leader, hoping to distance themselves from the explosions, they failed, and the boy was thrown backwards.

  The snow cushioned his fall, his eyes opened on a shattered moon. His head weighed a ton, looking to the right he saw the other soldier, motionless. The Sergeant was the same, he lay face down, the boy only had one thought, “I need a rifle.” He had no idea how long he had been there, but those trucks must’ve been on their way. He crawled over to the gun, grabbed it and waited. The engines approached and he switched the safety off, he was vulnerable, he had heard of a woman surviving worse than this on her own…with a scythe. He thought of ditching, running back, but the truck was already on site, three men got out, they wore expensive looking armor and spoke in a foreign language. One went on the side of the truck opposite the boy, he wore no helmet, and he could see yellow snow start to show under the truck's chassis. His heart rate was increasing, another went over to the Sergeant, rolling him over. He kneeled beside him, the last one went over to the other soldier and did the same. The boy's eyes drifted to the Sergeant, catching the soldier throwing all of his equipment into the truck, the other followed but stopped abruptly. The boy went limp as he grabbed the weapon out of his arms. The other one, next to the truck finished up, and walked over to the Sergeant, the boy heard a shot ring out. He then went over to the other soldier, and another shot rang out. As he approached the boy he holstered his weapon and yelled something to the others. One of them replied, the boy had no clue what they were saying. One of the helmeted ones said something while holding up an open palm hand to cover his face, the other one also said something while circling the truck. The boy let himself be rolled over and dragged by the handle at the top of the harness. They threw him in the vehicle with the rest of the equipment, one of the helmets climbed in with him, and positioned himself in an elevated chair at the front of the cabin, looking at a screen. The ride was a welcome change, he landed in a tolerable position, plus they had heating. The equipment was scattered around, and rolled throughout the drive. Every so often the chair would turn around and the boy would make sure he didn’t move.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He slid forward as the truck came to a stop, the helmet stepped on his leg on his way out, and pulled on it until he was almost outside the truck. The boy was lifted into a fireman's carry, he could see the area, it was a small village that got turned into an outpost. There couldn’t be more than a squad of men stationed there, only a few buildings were left. The helmet entered one of them and spoke to another inside. This one wore a white helmet that covered his head entirely, he was an ordnance Specialist, and probably programmed the guns that shot at the flare.

  After a brief, albeit aggressive sounding conversation between the two, the limp kid was held up by the helmeted merc, and the Specialist unfastened and pulled off his mask, he was then laid flat on his stomach on a table, as the straps to the jammer were undone and it was removed. The boy could see outside through a series of holes in the wall. Both of them then carried the boy out of the building and into the center of the outpost towards a crater. There lied several others who suffered a worse fate. He tried to remain unmoving, but got the breath knocked out of him as he hit the ground. His eyes remained shut, and after what felt like hours he opened them. He almost poked his head above the crater edge, but stopped himself, his ears would surely get him spotted, he remembered his survival kit, and took out the signal mirror. With it he looked around by poking it just above the crater edge, he knew this place was far from the front, and the mercs here didn’t even bother to carry their rifles. The crater was full of people and their equipment, neatly divided into three piles. Corpses, vests and helmets, and rifles, with his jammer placed at the edge of the crater. He grabbed a rifle and took aim at the Specialist, he was an alright shot, and everyone present was looking the other way. He took aim at the blue lights of the helmet that shine in through the hole, hoping to get him somewhere in the neck. Placing his finger on the trigger, he took in a deep breath, and as he slowly exhaled he walked back his finger, little by little. Eventually he ran out of breath and he stopped moving his finger, he took in another breath and continued. From this range he could see how the movement of his finger moved the barrel, a little to the left, a little to the right. He fought the urge to blink, and noticed the slight movement caused by his beating heart. He ran out of breath again, but continued to walk back on the trigger, refusing to inhale, “CLICK!” He closed his eyes in disappointment, of course they would take the ammo.

  “You’ll get us caught, Corporal.” sound cut through his focus, startling him, he looked around for a moment, at first he thought it was the wind, his eyes scanned his surroundings, the cold kept his eyes to a squint, finally he noticed the abnormality, a red camo pattern hood, its was barely noticeable, even as close as he was. A barrel covered in what could be mistaken for torn uniform poked just out under a hanging, frozen arm. He swallowed, and crawled back to the center of the crater, laying on his stomach “which one are you aiming for?” the boy asked, “I’m not sure about the merc hierarchy, was thinking of getting me that commandant,” her weapon was aimed at a man in a gray uniform with a blue peaked cap. “No” the boy quickly whispered, “they can replace him just as easily,” he said in a stressed whisper, he hadn’t realized how much talking hurt, “aim at the one with the white helmet, in the building.” The woman stayed silent, the boy explained his suggestion, “his training is expensive, and he’ll be hard to replace.” The red barrel turned slowly, taking up the same sight that the boy had, snow fell off the barrel. “Wait” the boy called out, he looked his jammer in the pile of equipment, they probably placed it their to make use of it later, “if I can jam the presighted guns, he’ll probably come out to investigate,” he said, the woman was quiet, he continued, “when I turn the lines back on the frequency sensor will have dropped low enough to register the frequency as a fire command, we can use the sound to cover your shots,” he said as he retrieved his pack, “Are you sure?” she asked, “I worked as a signal Specialist,” he paused, before turning on the device, and the two waited. Second turned to minutes, and the minutes felt like hours. “He’s getting up,” said the woman in red, the boy readied the device, and looked at his mirror, ready to hit the kill switch. He saw the man leave the building, “ready when you are,” said the woman “3,” the boy started, his finger shaking over the switch, “2,” his heart beat once again raising, “1,” he held his breath, “click”, 5 guns went off in succession, 4 of them were artillery pieces. The boy felt the warmth of powder gas hit him like a firework from back home, set off in an alley. The man’s head snapped to look straight up, and he fell flat on his stomach, face toward the crater. The weapon turned towards the first target, “can you do that again?” The boy turned the device back on, “It will take at least 30 seconds for the sensors to drop in sensitivity.” he said while turning it back on.

  After a moment the countdown started again, and once again five shots rang out. The commandant lay on his side, his chair knocked over. “Do it again,” she said, and he obliged. She took aim at an unassuming merc standing next to shall crate, he was one of the helmets, he was smoking. 5 shots, and the man fell flat. “Again,” she aimed at another through a hole in the second floor wall, a merc who sat on the ground, his back against the wall and once again 5 shots. This time however, the round broke through the concrete wall he was sitting against, he fell through the elevator shaft, and another merc was alerted, before they could be discovered the woman put him down too. However, this shot wasn’t covered. A man yelled from where the cannons were positioned. The boy saw him climb from the entrench position and start walking towards the noise. Before she could silence him, the boy asked, “Can take that one?” She reached into her coat, and threw a standard issue handgun at his feet. He grabbed it, and used the mirror to see when he was close enough. When he rounded the corner and saw the body, he unholstered his weapon and called into his radio, but no one answered. He approached the crater, but before he could raise his weapon the boy fired 2 quick shots, followed by 3 more well aimed ones. The man lay on the ground, the snow turned red around him. Another came out of the concrete, the other helmet, noticing the bodies, he bolted for the trucks, the woman stood up right, leaving the hiding spot and took aim. The man fell flat and rolled.

  “That's all of them,” she said, lowering her hood, standing amongst the corpses. The boy was speechless, he looked her in her silver eyes, she was about his age, he stuck his hand out, “Charmaine, jamming operations”. He spoke with a slight stutter, his stomach twisted into a knot. She refused the handshake, placing her hands on his head in between the ears, “Ruby,” she said, “Ruby Rose”