A/N: This is more of practice writing. I haven't submitted anything in over a year and a half, and frankly it annoyed me. Writer's block is something, eh? There may be inaccuracies with this, but like I said. Practice. Love writing in first person.

Before you begin, however, a note to my readers:

I. Have not. Forgotten. About. You. I still see the ones that favorite my stories and put me on their author alert. I'm actually really flattered, and I thank you for that! Now, I may not respond to a review, but just reading them tickles me pink, and your critism helps me get better. I don't usually write as a pastime. I draw. But when I write, I usually go on this website and read stories to help push me into getting in the zone. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you c: enjoy.

"It was Hope, Idaho. 1969. Redlight consumed the whole town; it was a mess; there was death and destruction everywhere. The town: Unsalvagable.

Not only was I sent to retrieve her, but the baby inside, as well. I didn't even know about it until we barged in, though. To think that the virus could cause so much to Hope...And Manhattan. Nonetheless, it was just a testing ground for viruses. Sacrifices were needed, everything was for the sake of progress. What little men I had left were darting to the left and right of me, slaughtering the rest of the infected citizens. The hospital where Greene resided was crawling with infected at the entrance.

I can't even say they were crawling. They had some sort of a trance in their eyes. At first, they weren't like Manhattan's infected: Gross, ugly, and savage. They were calm and somber. Standing there. Watching. Waiting.

It was when the first shot was fired that they started to attack...I can still hear the ringing of gunshots when I'm alone sometimes.
Now I'll tell you the truth: The memories? They still scare me. Scare me to death.

But they were necessary assets: The citizens. The town. Everything. I couldn't hesitate. Everything needed to be neutralized. You know what the price of hesitation is?

Death.

And it still is in my book.

I was the first to rush in. The adrenaline; I can still feel it today. What was a mere five minutes...It...Seemed like a century. Halls and halls of the same thing, it almost turned me insane. Almost. It was monotonous, and the closer we were, the tenser we became. There were discarded wheelchairs as we passed by, looking for Greene. We heard her screams of pain. I didn't even know the girl was pregnant, then. By the time we found her, she was already in her birth throes.

I took a glance at her dress. It was stained with blood. Again, I was baffled that she was pregnant. What was she? Nineteen? Huh...A whore.

...Actually...

Maybe...Maybe whore is the wrong term, now that I think about it. Greene...just made the wrong choice. She got pregnant at the wrong place, at the wrong time. The 60s was an era of sex, drugs, and hippies. She just got...Caught up in it.

That aside, Greene, back then, was beautiful. She almost radiated light from her face. Almost...Hmph...Her expressions were a striking contrast to her face! Greene had the look of fear, and vengence, and pure hate in her eyes. Despite this, I just...I dunno what happened. I handled it professionally. What I did wrong was let my guard down when I retrieved the child.

In all honesty, I didn't think she was going to attack me in her state, aside from the fact that she turned most of the population into putty in her hands. If anything, out of the whole ordeal...I learned two things:

One...Looks can decieve.

And two. That baby was either going to pave the way for a new generation, or damn the entire world.

I believed it was the latter. Damn the science. It never brought anything good when it tampers with nature. Redlight proved that, and Blacklight only backed it up.

As we barged through those doors and laid eyes on Elizabeth Greene, she was like a witch that froze us with her cold and evil glare. A second seemed like a year; a minute, a decade. Our eyes met, and, for a moment, I felt like I was suffocating. I didn't show it in front of my men, damned if I did. I actually...Felt fear.

Anyways, I stood my men down. Only I could handle this. Handle the child, I mean. Greene kept staring as I eventually pulled the baby out. I could feel those cold and blank eyes staring straight at me. Lifted her baby up to take a good look.

To be honest, it was a cute kid. Maybe I was insane, or simply in the moment. Maybe Greene worked her bewitching powers, but...

...I wanted to take the kid home.

Yeah, it was infected. Yes, it had the chance of turning into a carbon copy of his mother. But at that time...At that time I didn't know what I was thinking. Now? I'm glad I didn't try and steal it.

It was a military asset, anyways. Both him and Greene were. There wasn't a chance in hell that I could take it if I could.

Then, when I handed off the child to a soldier...That's when I felt the clamp of teeth around my arm. I can't even call them teeth; they felt more like fangs than teeth. She bit right through the sleeve, broke the skin, touched the blood, and infected me. The bitch.

At that moment I knew I had to take drastic measures.

I needed to amputate my arm before the infection could have a chance to spread.

I took a good look around and saw a cleaver not far from me. Half of me was relieved, but half of me didn't want to go through with this. However, weighing the chances? I'd say living to see another day with half your arm missing is a pretty damn good deal, considering the mess we had to clean up.

I grabbed the cleaver, and without batting. A single. Eyelash...I chopped it off. Chopped it right off...

Then they came for her, and then me.

Then the rest is history."

RED CROWN COMMAND BASE
BATTERY PARK

General Randall leaned back in his chair, looking at Specialist Cross with a gleam in his eyes, seeming to take pride of what he did way back when. Cross simply stood there, letting it all sink in. A minute or two passed before the silence was broken.

"And...What happened to the city?" He asked.

"History, Captain," Randall said, standing up and walking to Cross' side. He put his only hand on the Specialist's shoulders. "History happened. Now get back to work, you have a lot of it to get done."

Cross nodded, and turned to leave. However, a moment of hesitation proved to coerce him into asking the general one last question. He turned back around.

"Sir?" He asked.

"Hm?" Replied Randall.

"With respect sir, the way you talked about Greene. ...Do you pity her?"

The general's face scrunched, either in thought, or hesitating to answer. After a moment or two, he shook his head and settled back into his chair. "...Get back to work, Captain."