Hardest Shots

Turns out, I made it a two-shot whether people even knew this story existed or not!

Applauze: Well, I didn't put down a Duncan X Courtney tag, so in that case, reviews are hard to come by! Well, writing his POV isn't so hard (For Brick, keep him optimistic and honorable, but also sensitive to other emotions, especially sadness.), but I was afraid that I'd use speech verbs (I hope I said that right) that are a tad too intelligent-sounding for Brick. Other than that, job well done delivering some inspiration to you!

Not much to say here, I got inspired to make this one-shot a two-shot, and I hope I didn't disappoint.

Still rated T, but not as capital as the previous chapter (Not by a long shot). Still be on the lookout for any strong language though.

Chapter 2: Veteran Of Psychological Wars

It were 3 hard months, but I was finally back in Canada. I was shattered, both physically and mentally. The image of that boy kept on haunting my thoughts. About how gruesome his death was, and what would've went through his head before I blew it to pieces! My companions can only be happy that I was still able to protect them.

I sat in the plane, waiting for it to touch down. In front of me stood a casket with a Canadian flag laid over it. He was part of the convoy I had to guard, and he didn't make it. He was dangerously hit by another sniper, and while I could kill him, the feelings of revenge couldn't save the private. He died on the way to the hospital. I imagine what his family could be like, was he a father? Was he perhaps about to become a father?

I frowned intensely as I started at the flag. I get angry, but I feel tears welling up in my eyes as well. He died because greedy people wanted us to go at war! I can't believe there are people in the world so soulless, so evilly egoistical! They make money over the backs of dead people and shattered families, communities! They start wars to serve their own goals instead of doing it for the greater good! I gritted my teeth and grunted furiously, I've lost all trust in my government and in the highest military superiors. I also lost faith, faith in that there can be a glimmer of honor and respect in such dark times as war.

Hours later, the plane touched down on a base in the Rockies. I solemnly placed my hand on the casket before I lightly patted it.

''You've done what you could private, I'm proud of you.'' I proudly, quietly mumbled before I stood up and stretched my back until I heard a loud crack. After sitting 12 hours in the same position, too numbed by the past 3 months to care to move a little, that's what happens. Several soldiers appeared to carry the casket to another door of the plane for its repatriation ceremony.

The backdoor opened and I stepped towards the opening, feeling the cool mountain breeze blow into my face. It fell nice, and it was nice to feel something nice again after all this time. But enjoying it had to wait for a little longer, as I had duties to fulfill, among the last I believe in.

I stood in line with the other present troops and saluted as the casket was lowered out of the plane and carried to a hearse a little further down the runway under the accompaniment of bagpipes music. When the coffin was in the hearse, the bagpipe music ceased and we stopped saluting as some people and a priest approached the hearse. I believe that that were his family members. I'd like to stick around and try to console them a bit, but I don't think that I, the man who couldn't save their son, brother or father, can do that, so I left.

''Welcome back corporal!'' A gruff voice greeted me, yet with a kind undertone. I turned my head in the right direction and saw Jo approaching me before she pulled me in a tight hug. Jo had cut her hair even shorter and wore a pale green nylon jacket and black cargo pants, something different from the usual tracksuits and sweatpants.

Jo had become my girlfriend over the past years and we've been living together in nearby Burnaby. I'd really love to call her my wife, but she has something against marrying. I think it's because she hates dresses. She has pretty much remained the same, she hardly ever gets affectionate, but she always teases me in an affectionate way.

''How're you?'' She asked me. I didn't say anything and sadly glanced over at the hearse leaving the runway. Jo wasn't so good with subtle messages, but I do hope she caught on to that.

''Brick, you know I'm terrible with stuff like this. What do you-'' Jo tried to console me.

''It's okay.'' I calmly cut her off before we both left.

She wasn't so good with consoling either.

We passed the memorial standing at the entrance of the base. I stopped walking alongside Jo and eyed the monument.

''Are you going to salute it or what?'' Jo asked me, sounding a little bit humored.

''No, not today.'' I dismissively responded while shaking my head before stomping towards the car. Which surprised Jo greatly as she knows that I always salute this monument when I pass it to pay my respects to the army and those who died for it. But now it means nothing to me anymore.

Jo was driving to our home while I stared out of the window, thinking about that day that changed everything. I spotted a gas station at the side of the highway, and I frowned at the clear sight of its rising prices.

I often thought over Scott's words about how oil determined where and when terrorists were fought so that western nations could keep control over their economies. And the longer I thought about it, the more sense it made until I came to the conclusion that Scott was right. We were sent out to Nigeria to battle the terrorists, but only because they threatened the economy of the west, not because they use children as bombs

''So Brick, how was your tour?'' Jo asked, breaking the silence and pulling me out of my thoughts as she softly stomped my shoulder.

''I still live.'' I plainly answered, I didn't feel like telling the whole story, as Jo can be bitterly chiding of my emotions.

''I can see that! But I want details!'' Jo eagerly demanded. ''Like, how was it to kill your first terrorist?'' She curiously asked, bearing a bright smile.

''My first terro-'' I quietly muttered, not being able to finish my sentence before I looked at Jo. She seemed so eagerly curious to hear how it was, as if it was something to be happy about! ''Don't say it like that!'' I barked at her.

''Like how?'' Jo replied very confused and a little shocked as well.

''Like it's something to be proud of!'' I continued barking.

''Easy! I often heard you say that you considered it separating the men from the boys of some sorts!'' Jo cautiously replied.

''It, is, not!'' I furiously wheezed.

''Alright okay!'' Jo defensively replied.

After having spent the remaining trip in a tense silence, Jo stopped on our driveway and I immediately grabbed my belongings and stomped into our home, a small single floor suburban house. I sat down on the couch and removed the striker from my rifle before I hung it on the wall above the fire place (To assure that I won't be shot by my own gun), moodily flung the striker in 1 of the kitchen drawers and morosely sat down at the kitchen table. [1]

''No place like home, isn't there?'' Jo breezily asked after she sat down on the opposite end of the table. After I glared back at her without saying a thing, she frowned back. ''I'll get back on it later.'' She grumbled before she left me alone.

Several days passed and I spent them mostly by brooding about how I can possibly live the rest of my life with these scars and these truths. Nothing helped me get my mind off of them, not sleep, not entertainment, and not even 1 of Jo's rare moments of night-time intimacy could distract me. It was late at night. I couldn't sleep, so I did the thing I always do when I can't sleep, sitting in the living room with the lights off and curtains open, letting the moonlight into the room.

I heard some rumbling coming from the hallway. When I left the bedroom, Jo was sound asleep (I envy her, I haven't slept well in days), so we have a burglar in our home! I picked up a lamp from the table to use as a club and sneakily approached the doorpost.

''Put the lamp down Brick, it's me.'' Jo quietly assured me as she appeared from the dark hallway into the living room.

''Oh, hey Jo.'' I calmly greeted her before I put the lamp back. ''I couldn't sleep, and-''

''I know you couldn't, because I couldn't too.'' Jo calmly cut me off as she sat down in the lazy chair. ''Because you toss and turn so much!'' She bitterly added.

''Yeah, it's crazy.'' I numbly agreed, sitting down on the couch.

Jo sighed deeply before she leant towards me. ''I'll be honest Brick. I'm worried sick about you.'' Jo admitted in a gruff yet caring way that only Jo can. ''At first, I thought that you were just touchy because of the long trip. But you've did almost nothing but sitting around the past few days and you got incredibly furious when there was a news report on the war in Nigeria!'' She recounted the past few days.

''I'm fine!'' I denied.

''No you're not! If you were fine Brick, you would curiously note everything down about it, do push ups, and prepare for when they call you up for a next tour and all that!'' Jo countered. ''But you just spent the last few days glooming. What is wrong with you Brick? What happened in Africa?'' She asked as concernedly as she possibly could.

As worried as Jo is, I can't keep it away from her.

''I've...Seen and learnt some things that made me lose faith in the army.'' I cautiously admitted.

''How could you out of all people lose faith in the army?'' Jo asked me rather puzzled.

''I'll tell you that.'' I announced before I shifted a little. ''During my first days, I was tasked to overlook and protect a convoy scouting a village. I had barely killed a hostile when all of a sudden...'' I paused to gulp as I noticed it was getting hard to say it. ''...A mother and a boy no older than 10 come out of a house.'' I continued.

''So?''

''That boy carried a bomb, so I had to shoot him!'' I loudly replied, which shocked Jo a little. '' I thought, 'I give him a painless death', but I was shaking so much that the shot was off and I instead hit the bomb he carried! It exploded in his grasp and the bloody remains were spread all over!'' I explained as I buried my face in my hand palms and began to bawl. ''They use children as their weapons! And I cannot bring myself to kill them! I'm afraid I might give them the same treatment and also because I'm afraid it'll make me a bad person!'' I added, slowly beginning to sob as Jo did something unexpected, she sat down next to me and gently rocked me.

''Is that why you lost faith? Because you had to kill him and ended up doing so in a incredible brute way?'' Jo asked. I glared at her as I found that she asked it really brutish, but I did realize that she didn't mean any wrong with it.

''That too. Because I could not believe that those terrorists would use their own children as weapons!'' I continued as I calmed down again. ''Then I wondered why no one stopped them earlier, and then I was told by Scott, who had to guard me-''

''Wait, THE Scott we all used to know and hate?'' Jo cut me off rather puzzled.

''Yes, it was that Scott.'' I explained. ''Anyway, he told me that we only went to war with them because they threatened the oil supplies and the western economies, and I can't help but thinking that he's right. Why wouldn't we have stopped them earlier then if it wasn't for the oil? And because of going to war to serve economical goals instead of helping people, I lost faith.'' I finished, I looked at Jo and she was glaring at me.

''Unbelievable.'' Jo quietly chided, nodding her head.

''What?'' I threateningly growled. Does she still begin to chide me after all? Because I'm not in for it!

''That Scott's cynical world views made you so depressed! Did he ever say anything that isn't a lie or a narrow-minded view of his?'' Jo scolded me.

''Maybe so, but it still makes a lot of sense.'' I calmly agreed.

''Even if it does, since when did you care for what a war is fought over? I thought you cared much more about the things you hoped to achieve! You always wanted to bring peace and safety, and you tried to achieve that in Nigeria as well when you left!'' She vividly continued. ''To hell with those high officials and richers who want to wage war for oil! Doesn't it matter to you anymore what you can do for those people over there?'' Jo asked.

I thought about Jo's question for some time, standing up and pacing around the room. ''But I have duties as a soldier, I can't just deny given commands to help the locals at any time I want!'' I told Jo after turning towards her.

''You're helping them by whacking the terrorists! Who says that they don't oppress their own people?'' Jo countered, standing up from the couch.

''You're, you're right.'' I muttered, smiling weakly. ''But I can't go back to fight, what if I have to kill more kids?'' I wondered pretty downcast, after which Jo approached me and firmly placed a hand on my shoulder.

''Listen, I understand that. But those kids have been practically brainwashed! Even if you could save them, there's no telling that they'll ever get them back on the right track again.'' Jo soothed me. ''I know it sounds harsh, but it's the hard truth.''

''I know.'' I agreed, hanging my head. ''But I don't think I'll ever get-''

''I'm sure that that'll come back again.'' Jo calmly cut me off again. '' In fact, I'd feel more motivated to put a stop to them!''

''Maybe, maybe.'' I agreed again with humble optimism. ''But still.''

''And if you really want to help without fighting, you join a humanitarian squad or something.'' She added.

Despite Jo having a soldier as a boyfriend and having ample interest in the army itself, she never was really knowledgeable of it. Still, she made a solid point. I never considered joining a humanitarian unit up until now, and I like the idea, but I'm afraid seeing those people might bring back some bad memories and I hesitantly eyed Jo, who took notice.

''Tell you what, if you get patched up and go back to Nigeria with a fresh mind, I will consider marrying you!'' She genuinely promised.

I was pretty surprised to say the least. Jo never looked like she even wanted to think about marriage, and now she just promises it!

''Really?'' I asked surprised with a raised eyebrow.

''Really.'' Jo assured me.

''You're shitting me.'' I suspiciously responded.

''I am not!'' She shot back, getting pretty annoyed.

''But why?''

''Brick, despite all the teasing and the hassling I did over these years, I am convinced that you can get over this and fight with what you believe in!'' Jo firm, yet tenderly assured me, firmly rubbing the back of my head while leaning against my chest.

''So what do you say corporal? Are you ready for another tour?''

''Yes ma'am!'' I proudly barked while saluting.

And like that, I've regained my spirits! The trauma of that kid made me quick to believe Scott's cynicism. I don't know if it's true or not, but if it was, it doesn't make a difference. It doesn't matter to me anymore what my superiors want me to go to war for, what matters is how I hope to help the people and the country the war is fought! Everything looks brighter again, thanks to this new vision.

Now that was a tough chapter to pull off!

[1] A nod to the movie Shooter.

And so this one-shot has become a two-shot! I felt like adding it because to every trauma, there's a resolve, most commonly then. In that vein, I hope you didn't mind the piece of Brick X Jo it has become, but she was the most suited candidate to get Brick up again.

So, this was my first short story and it provided me with a ton of experience! I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Off to the next story!

:D,

L.W.