Chapter 5: Old World Blues

I hate to say it, but this one's a short filler chapter. It's just some background for our illustrious trio. So if you want to, you can skip this chapter. You most likely won't miss anything groundbreaking and shocking.

I felt like I had to give something for info on them. And I wanted a break between Fear Personified and Palaven.

Yeah. We're still that early on.


He couldn't sleep. For the last week, ever since leaving the Lionel, Greg had been tormented by nightmares. He saw Fear every time he closed his eyes. He saw each of his friends dissected and devoured one by one. Fear tormented him, made him suffer with every passing moment.

But the one he was experiencing right now was the worst.

"Does it really surprise you? You must have had a hunch. It's all too convenient." Fear said.

"No!" Greg shouted and tried to move, but something held him back.

"Why?" Shepard asked. "Why would you lie to me this whole time? I trusted you."

"I didn't have a choice!"

Shepard walked up to him and drew a knife from her pocket. "There's always a choice." The blade pierced his chest. "You should have made yours sooner." He coughed up blood and bent over as she removed the knife from his chest.

Why? Why is this happening to me? He thought as he shot up drenched in a cold sweat. Did he get inside my head?

"Damnit…" he said as he gasped for breath, "I need a change of scenery." He threw on a change of clothes and walked to the observation area on deck three. He leaned against the wall and stared out into the depths of space. He pulled out a set of dog tags from his pocket and stared at the inscription intently. "Wow… it's been twenty years, hasn't it? It feels like yesterday, you left the world. You left me. I miss you so much… I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you."


August 22, 2020.

Lingshan Islands, Pacific Ocean.

"Damn!" Greg dropped back behind the overturned car. Bolts of energy soared over his head, some impacting the side of the car. "What are these things?" He popped back up when the squid-things stopped firing and let loose with his SCAR assault rifle. By the time he had burned through the entire magazine, he had dropped one of the squids and injured the other enough to make it fly off. "Yeah, run, please. Thank you." He put a fresh clip, his last one, into his SCAR and shouldered the weapon. "Damnit, McMurrey. I told you not to run. And you took the whole squad with you, too. I am going to kill you when we get back, I swear to-"

"Lieutenant! Down!" Greg was flat on his stomach as soon as he heard the words. A crack came from behind him and a hidden squid exploded.

"Clear!" The voice was female, and definitely American. Greg sighed. He was glad to hear a friendly voice again. Six hours without anything but hostile squid-things to keep him company had worn down his sanity. "What are you doing here?" She asked as she jogged over, "I thought everyone was-" She stopped talking when he turned to face her. Greg knew the face all too well. Her cropped brown hair was barely down past her ears anymore, and her green eyes betrayed a weariness that told of a long and harsh fight. She smiled, and Greg couldn't stop himself from smiling back as she hugged him. "I can't believe it's you. I thought you pulled out yesterday."

Master Sergeant Bethany Malstrom, First Platoon Scout-Sniper. She was a crack shot, better than any Greg had ever seen. She was also his fiancée. Greg could hardly wait to get off of this island. They were getting married next week.

"My squad ran when those things came out," Greg said, "even though I told them not to."

"McMurrey was always a coward when shit hit the fan."

"I know. What about you? Where's your spotter? Don't snipers work in pairs?"

"David's dead. One of those things ambushed him."

"I'm sorry."

"Come on. Major Strickland is organizing a retreat farther up the valley. Mind if I be your spotter for now?"

"You know the answer."

"I had to ask anyway."


"Greg?" Someone shook his shoulder.

"Huh?" He turned his head. Ian and Devon were standing behind him.

"You okay?" Devon asked.

"Yeah, just lost in some memories. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just came to see how you're holding up."

"I'm fine."

"Are you? You and the Commander saw the worst of it on the Lionel."

"Yeah," he put his hand on Devon's shoulder, "I'm fine. I promise."

"How long has it been since you slept, man? You look like shit."

"Fine." Greg leaned against the wall. "I've just been haunted by it all. And other things, too."

"Like what?" Ian asked.

"I keep thinking back to my tours of duty with the Marines. The things I've done… they still haunt me."

"Tell us. Maybe we can relate. Ian was a SEAL and I was in Delta Force, after all."

"Yeah. I just keep remembering the people I killed. Was it easy for you guys to pull the trigger?"

"After a while," Ian said, "it got easier."

"Is it easier when you're at a longer range?"

"No."

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

"Were you thinking of being a sniper?"

"Well, no. But Bethany was one. She showed me some stuff. I was a platoon marksman. I got put on sniper duty in Afghanistan. About 2016. I had one tour under my belt. Staff-Sergeant. I…" He dropped his head and his breath became ragged, "I killed a little girl. Shot her dead. She… couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old. She wouldn't put down that damn grenade."

"Greg…" Devon breathed.

"She… pulled the pin, and I shot her."

"What happened after that?" Ian asked.

"I was promoted to First Lieutenant."

"What? Why?" Devon said.

"I saved the president of the United States. That girl was going to throw the grenade at the president's Humvee. He was going to make a speech. He publically thanked me."

"I remember that. I never made the connection." Devon said.

"I joined Force Recon after that. Then I was deployed to Lingshan."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I don't like to talk about it. I've seen enough death in my day. And I didn't have a Nanosuit to control my reactions." "He twiddled his thumbs for a second and took a breath. "What about you guys? How did you keep yourselves straight when you were off-duty?"

"I went back to active duty when I thought about it too much." Ian said.

"I shot at the local gun range. What about you?"

"I just… lived with it."

"Where all did you go?"

"First tour was Fallujah. Most of that was door-to-door shit. I, uh… I don't talk about this much, but I met the Legend."

"No shit? Chris Kyle?" Ian asked.

"Yeah. I met him. He actually saved my life. I got hit in the leg and was out in the open. Kyle's sniper fire kept the insurgents off of me long enough for the rest of my squad to pull me out."

"I take it you made out lucky." Devon said.

"Yeah, needed some rehab, but I reenlisted a year later. They let me keep rank and everything. Even put me back in my old unit. By then we were in Afghanistan. And after that I was off to Force Recon and Lingshan. How about you guys?"

"Two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Each." Devon said.

"Three tours." Ian said. "Iraq, Afghanistan, and actually one in Israel."

"What were you doing there?" Greg asked.

"Peacekeeping shit. The Palestinians were getting unruly."

"Ah. Well," Greg pushed off of the wall and walked to the door, "I should let you guys get back to it."

"Yeah. Hey, Major," Devon clapped his shoulder, "never regret a shot you already took. You can't change it now. If you hadn't taken that shot, who knows what might have happened."

"Yeah… Thanks, man."

"We're brothers, all three of us. We look after each other."

"Pending the chain of command." Greg added with a smirk.

"Yeah, that too. Get some sleep, Greg. You need it."

"I'll try but I make no promises." Greg went back to the cargo hold and sat against the wall, asleep in mere seconds.

This time, he didn't dream at all.