A city lays in ruins. Buildings are crumbled to the ground. Debris is scattered everywhere. Gunfire can be heard in the distance on again off again. Explosions shake the ground in random intervals. Smoke is rising from the now smoldering fires. Most of this destruction had occurred in the first of the two levels of the city. The inner city walls are practically unscathed. The outer city walls are almost non existent. The invaders from the outside had made quick work to destroy it. Many of the battles were in the sectors of Three, Four, Five, Six, and Nine. Sector One, Two, and Ten were the inner city sectors. Where the nobility lived and were protected by the royal guard. Sectors Seven and Eight was the place where the soldiers, fighters, or mercenaries who had fought go to heal or take a break from the war. Sector Eight was mostly residential area that was refurbished to barracks, and sometimes an extra place to house some extra people who couldn't stay in Sector Seven. Many people in the outer city had either fled, or had perished. The few that remained….had no where to run to, no one to run with, or those who were healing.
One day a small group of soldiers ad mercenaries had come into Sector Seven. They were carrying a few injured, almost lifeless, soldiers. They were all still bloody and filthy from the front lines. They had carried their buddies into the hospital, then went their separate ways. One of the mercenaries had wanted to make sure the area was secure for himself. He had lived too long , and trusted too many people to trust anyone. He feared that anymore talk of war and death would bring up too many memories and make him go insane. After all, he had seen enough death in his field. He found himself walking down a street with a wall along the right side. He followed the wall around a few corners to see if there was anyway to check the area inside. He found the entrance within 10 minutes. It opened up into a beautiful park, or what would have been a beautiful park if it hadn't been partially blown up with rubble everywhere. Remains of once proud trees lay burnt on the ground. The flower beds, or if there were any, were hidden under the debris of the children's play things. Very few things were left standing. He spotted a bench across from some swings that were surprisingly still standing. 'A quick rest shouldn't hurt' he thought as he walked over. His muscles protesting every move. He sat down gingerly and leaned back. He was exhausted. Quickly forgetting his want to check the area, he slowly slipped away into the dark place of his nightmares and memories.
"Hey man, we're going to live through today. I can feel it! We'll tear those things to pieces!" My comrade, Rei, said as we finished loading up our weapons. We were a team. The two of us. There was no one who could compare. We were the best of the best, and were proud of it.
"Don't! You'll jinx us." I joked. Little did we know at the time…He had.
Chaos. We were surrounded by chaos. Bullets whizzing though the air by our heads. The enemy getting closer to the lines. There was death all around us. But after 6 months, we were used to it. Covering each others back like we were just extensions of each other. Our group had started to fall back to regroup, when something clinked right between us. We looked down. My partner picked it up, and not a moment later the look of fear crossed his face and he turned to heave it. I and hit the ground after I recognized it. I felt the explosion. The heat pelting me only a split second before the shrapnel does. He had thrown it a second too late, and it exploded in his hand. The only thought in my head: Revenge. I took up his shotgun and faced the main wave of the enemy. Everything slowed down, time didn't exist in the place I was. All the sounds were muffled. It was just me… and It.
The mercenary woke up to a gentle tugging on his arm. His face not showing the fear he had just experienced though that memory. That…was a cursed day. He looked slowly to the right of him. There was a girl, or maybe about 13 years old or so, with Chocolate brown sooty hair, looking at him. She wasn't that much younger than him, him being 17 at the time, but her eyes told him she's been through things that made her almost more mature than him. She definitely looked worse for wear.
"What?!" He barked at the tiny girl. The girl shrunk back at his voice. Fear and remorse written on her face.
"Uhm. . .Sir. . .I'm terribly sorry. . .ah never mind." She stuttered meekly. The Mercenary's face didn't change, but his eyes softened a bit. He sighed deeply.
"No. No never mind. You woke me up, now you have to talk." He spoke. Voice still with an edge to it.
"Uhm. . . Well. . .I was hoping. . . If you didn't have to leave soon. . . If you would be so kind as to push my little sister on the swings. She's dieing you see…and I want her to enjoy whatever life she has left." The girl explained quietly. She was still very afraid of the mercenary.
"I don't have time for this." The mercenary said while getting up. Why couldn't he get away from death. First his best friend, now someone is again dieing and nothing can be done.
"Oh…alright." She said dejectedly. Moving to the side to allow the mercenary to pass. The mercenary passed the remains of the trees. Those once proud trees that he had seen when he first entered the park. He slowly stopped and looked back. He saw the brown haired girl walk back to the swings with her head down. She wrapped one of her arms around the smaller girl on the swing in a sort of half hug. Why did he have these feelings. He wanted to help. He was supposed to be merciless, a cold blooded killer. That's what he was trained for, and that's what he was hired for. Why would he even want to help? Why him anyway. He looked closer. Her arm was broken. It was all wrapped up in a pitiful excuse of a bandage. Why didn't he see this before. Its not something easily missed? Was he losing his mind? He slowly turned back around and started to walk back to the swing. They looked up at him. There were tears in the little ones eyes.
"Alright…I'll help"
The two smiled. The older one moved to the slide, or what used to be the slide, sat and watched. It was indeed a sight to behold. A mercenary, still in his battle armor, all bloody and covered in dirt, pushing a small girl on a swing, in a destroyed playground. They talked about for what life was like before the war for what seemed for hours. Mostly the older girl and the mercenary. The smaller girl would put her input every once in a while. Time had passed and it got dark. The mercenary had to leave to the barracks. He was ordered to return after he had dropped of his comrades and had a night of rest. He really needed to get some sleep. He didn't know when he would be able to come back, so he left his dog tags, and a promise that he would try his hardest to get back. After three years had passed he returned to Sector Seven to fulfill his promise. He went to the park as soon as he could. Wanting to go back to the place where two children had made him feel human again. When he reached the park he practically ran to the swings. Slowing only after he had seen her. Kneeling in front of a grave marker. The place where her sister now rested. He quietly walked up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. He had hoped that she remembered him. She jumped at the contact and turned around quickly. She looked at the mercenary in shock. There were then so many emotions on her face he couldn't get a clear read on any one.
"I thought you would never come back, Blake!" She exclaimed as she jumped up and hugged him. Blake, the now named mercenary, still used to fighting, and most definitely not used to people using his name, froze up at the contact. He slowly wrapped around her. His shirt started to feel wet, soon after, he realized that it was her tears. Silent sobs wracked her body as she cried into the mercenary's chest. Soon the sobs turned into muffled cries, the into quiet hiccups. She soon fell asleep. The mercenary, as gently as he could, picked her up and carried her back to the housing building. He laughed quietly to himself noticing that his dog tags were hanging around her neck. He could wait a while longer for her to wake up. Then maybe he could know her name. Then he could tell her that it was all over. The fighting, the threat, the war. It was all over, and they…he…had won.
The End.