Chapter Two: Origins: Part 2
Daylight had not broken through the clouds, and though they were the same shade as they were the night before, it was not raining. Bodies were all crowding around one of three vehicles. Their boots sunk into the soft ground, and caused many to stumble. Some of the soldiers tripped, and, in a result, got trampled over.
"One…." Andrew started, maneuvering himself through the amounts of bodies in an attempt to keep up with Salem, who had managed to use his build to push aside the weaker, less experienced soldiers. "Question." He shoved someone out of the way. Salem paused only a little bit, and nodded in Andrew's direction to show him that he was listening. "I've been a soldier for two years now, and still, we're with these other-" He violently shoved a fellow soldier out of the way. His shove forced the man off of his feet and to fall into the mud. Andrew paid no attention to the man he just carelessly thrown aside. Salem watched as the man fell with a slight movement of his head, before making his way forward toward the closest large vehicle. Already guns were being thrown out into the crowd of gathering soldiers.
"Don't flatter yourself, Andrew, I've been enlisted for four years now, and I'm just like you." Salem yelled above the voices.
Guns were thrown out, all of them were the same, they were being thrown out and soldiers caught them.
One wave of weaponry was thrown in Andrew's immediate direction; he raised his arm and caught it.
The action did not go as he expected it to, as his wrist caught the heavy metal at a wrong angle, forcing his elbow to bend back and for him to yelp in pain. He fumbled with the automated rifle.
"One would have thought that this was your first time." Salem commented. Andrew looked up at him. His gaze swept along the weapon in Salem's hands. Andrew cursed.
"We'll see." Andrew commented. He stood up straight, revealing himself to almost compare to Salem in height.
"Dogs!" The commander yelled out. Many faces turned their attention to their commander. His figure was well built, and his forever-sneering expression caused many of the soldiers to fear him, or respect him.
Andrew, however, didn't give a damn about him.
Andrew wasn't even from this squad, but his previous squad had been split up. They were dead, wounded, unable to fight at all, or, alive and well, and forced to work somewhere else, seeing as their commander died.
Andrew lazily lifted the weapon to rest on his shoulders; his hands were on either side of it. His right at the nozzle, his left at the trigger, his actions balanced the gun and ensured that it stayed in place.
"Form a line! I want NO ONE to enter the camp!" The commander ordered, and, in an instant, all of the prepared soldiers took their positions.
Andrew deliberately took his time, waiting for Salem to catch up, seeing as he knew no one else, he thought it would be stupid not to stay with him. That, and he really didn't want have the older man die before he even got to have more than one conversation with him.
"Salem!" Andrew called, and spun on his heel to see behind him. The man he was waiting for had his head bowed, his lips moving slightly, soundless words escaped his lips. Confused as to what he was doing, Andrew approached him, knowing wasting time was a dangerous thing to do. Still, Andrew never was the one to play it safe. "What are you doing?" He asked him. Salem ignored him, and continued murmuring for another prolonged second. She stopped, and raised his head; his lifted his gun higher, and turned his attention to Andrew.
"Praying." He told Andrew simply. Andrew raised his eyes and nodded, pursing his lips at the same time.
"For what?" Andrew asked again. Salem started walking toward the trenches just outside of the camp. The problem with being randomly attacked, there was no time to plan out… anything.
"For Etro to take me." Salem replied simply. Andrew raised his eyebrow.
"You want to die?"
"Don't you?" Salem questioned him back. Andrew, being caught off-guard by the question, froze momentarily, before following Salem once again. Did he? Did he really want to die?
There were many advantages to dying, one of them being he wouldn't be forced to live in this world, he would actually see – hopefully – all the people that died. Yes, there were many advantages to dying, but there was always the future, and the unknown. If he died, he will never know what will come the next day.
"I'm not saying I haven't considered it, but, no." Andrew told him. Salem nodded.
"The only thing I have left to live for are my grandparents." He murmured. They were nearing the trenches, the mud-covered ladder only a few meters away.
"Yeah, but-"
"I won't try and die." Salem emphasized on the word 'try'
"Yeah, sure, if you kill yourself, I'll spit on your body." Andrew told him darkly. His respect was given to people who tried their hardest to live, and live to their fullest. So far, all the respect points for Salem were decreasing.
"I'm not suicidal." Salem argued.
"Oh, no, you just want to die. That's very different, my apologies." Andrew's sarcastic remark made Salem stop just in front of the ladder, and turn around to glare at him.
"You don't know what I've lost. You don't know a damn thing about me. So, don't give your opinions where they aren't wanted." Salem glared at Andrew, the venom in his voice took away all thought Andrew had for what he was going to say next. Feeling as if looking shocked to his remark would be showing a weakness, Andrew forced himself to keep his face emotionless, to seem indifferent.
"Fine." Andrew replied coldly. Salem narrowed his eyes, but looked down and stepped backwards. He placed a foot on the first step of the ladder, and began to climb his way down into the trench. Andrew followed suit.
Although Andrew's heart was boiling with anger at having his attempts to be considerate shot down with a cold glare and harsh words, he wasn't about to just ditch the man and go set himself up somewhere else. Salem was still the only person he found it easy to talk to.
He's just like Annie. Andrew thought solemnly, referring to a childhood friend he had at the orphanage. She wanted to die, her life was ripped from her, her parents, her home… everything. She hung herself in the attic of the orphanage a year after he met her. She was two years older, more like a older sister. Since then, he found himself responsible for every person's welfare when they even considered taking their own lives.
"I…" Andrew started, trying to say something that would change Salem's mind about life without him lashing out at him.
"Don't you dare say it." Salem told him coldly. He just wouldn't be able to control the anger inside him if Andrew finished the sentence. The sentence he most defiantly included Janette not wanting him to die.
"Salem." Her voice floated into the air and reached his ears, he turned, and saw her. She was out in the garden, and covered in dirt. Her overalls had grass stains and rips in them, her elbows had dirt smudged on them, her gardening gloves were rested on her hips. Her blond hair was up in a messy bun. There were smudges of dirt on her cheeks and nose.
"Yeah?" He asked. They were talking through the window; he was in the kitchen, trying to fill his black hole of a stomach.
"I need your help!" She gestured to a large bag. He knew it was full of weeds and stray grass. He sighed, and slowly made his way outside to help her.
"Hey, I don't know a damn thing about her. You tell me, would she want you to die?" Andrew boldly asked. He ignored Salem's glare and took an empty space between two other soldiers. He flicked the safety off and raised his gun. The weapon rested against the soft ground, steady and ready for the enemy. Salem didn't respond, seeing Andrew's determined gaze. He lost someone too; he knew exactly what Salem was feeling, perhaps more, seeing as Janette's death was before Emily's. There was still more hurt for the blond man.
He groaned, aggravated. Perhaps it was because he was caught in the never ending cycle of war, perhaps it was because, even after four years, four years of seeing comrades and friends fall to the hands of enemies, he wanted to join them. He had felt bullets puncture his flesh and bone, he had been on leave for periods of time, but, really, they were nothing. There was no special person to welcome him back and cry in relief. His grandparents were old, and both in a nursing home, seeing as he couldn't take care of them.
His world was falling apart right before his eyes, and he just couldn't put it back together. No matter how many times he tried to repair it, it only managed to break again. The look on Andrew's face told it all: he knew exactly how Salem felt. He lived it, he breathed in the reality every day.
The thought made Salem feel somewhat guilty, seeing as the blond man only tried to make him see his self-worth.
"Hey! You better get your head out of the clouds." A nearby soldier told him, he held out a helmet to him. "You forgot this." The soldier told Salem when he turned his attention on him. He reached out and took his helmet, squinting to see who it was behind the helmet.
"Oh, Braden, thanks." He thanked the soldier when he recalled his name. Though they never talked, they were familiar enough with each other to know each other's names.
"Don't die on us." Braden told him, before lightly jogging down the trench to find an open spot. Salem grimaced. What was with everyone saying that today? True, Braden meant it as a 'good luck', but still. He placed his weapon under his armpit, and used both hands to carefully place the helmet on. This was his helmet, and he knew that there was a shard of plastic that would jab him if he didn't put it on just right.
"They're coming!" The commander yelled out. The loud yell brought Salem's attention back to the badland where everyone's gun was pointing. Sure enough, a small army approached. That was… odd.
Salem knew that there was no way anyone was stupid enough to send just a few dozen soldiers to take out an entire camp. There were really only two motives, one, they were going to surrender, but that was very unlikely, seeing as they nearly wiped them out in the last battle.
The bright red and blue flag was high in the air, symbolizing which kingdom they were for. Though knowing who their enemy was didn't do much, it still let each and every soldier know that they were the same that they fought with yesterday. Salem was lucky to get out of that with only a scrap from a bullet.
The second option was that this was only a decoy, something to draw their attention while they attacked from the back.
They really want to get rid of us. Salem thought, his gaze flicked over to Andrew, his blond hair rippled in the wind. He didn't have a helmet. The idiot! He cursed under his breath.
"Andrew!" He hissed, the blonds' unwavering gaze never faltered. "Andrew!" His voice got louder, this time, the blonde twitched. He removed himself from his statue-like position and turned to face the direction of the voice.
"What?" He asked, making no attempts to be discrete. Silently, Salem tapped his helmet. Andrew's mouth dropped, his eyebrows were high, hidden beneath his bangs. He knew he forgot. No, he needed to forget that.
"Forget that. Something's not right." He told him, Salem noted how many ears tilted upward, eavesdroppers. "There's too little." Andrew explained.
Salem nodded. He moved his way over to Andrews's side, so as to not scare the others.
"What do think it is?" Salem asked, keeping his eyes locked on the small platoon in front of him. Andrew, looking at them as well, merely shrugged.
"Could be anything. The last time I saw something like this was when…" Andrew trailed off, a look of pure horror showing up on his face.
"What?" Salem demanded. Andrew didn't answer, but turned his attention to the skies. Confused, Salem turned his eyes to the sky as well.
There was nothing out of the ordinary. Agitated, he lightly hit Andrews's head, forcing the blond to turn his attention to him.
"Focus!" Salem hissed at him, Andrew only shook his head, his eyes still wide. What did Andrew know that he didn't?
A loud, roaring sound became noticeable. It's sound was loud and made Salem understand immediately what Andrew was trying to tell him, without actually saying it and causing chaos.
The platoon that was approaching their camp was only a decoy, like the suicide bombers that sometimes caused untold damage. This time, however, the obvious enemy was not going to be the reason so many were going to die. The reason was that they – including Salem and Andrew – were going to die was because of the loud noise above. The enemy was going to drop missiles on their heads.
Though I don't say it directly, Andrew and Salem's ages are in here. In this story, you are enlisted at eighteen, whether you want to be or not. This story, though it is in a time zone similar to ours, is also different. Because of the war, people marry etc, at an earlier age. Does that make sense? I hope so... Please read and review. I will be adding an OC in the next chapter. The glasses guy and Noctis don't make an appearance for awhile, sadly, but this story starts from the very beginning. So, this is basically the entire backstory that I made up, on how Noctis and his party met. I might go further than that, but I'm not sure....