"Saunders!" He heard the shout, along with alarms starting to whir in an angry whine overhead. "Saunders get your ass up boy we're under attack!"

Gregory was already half awake, but when he heard that he was up in an instant. His pants were pulled on in a hop and he was already strapping his rifle to his back, and revolvers to his hips when an explosion rocked the ground near his barracks. He was thrown to the ground, landing awkwardly on his side with a wince. He got this feet, shaking the cobwebs up when he saw another groaning form near him. He didn't spot him when he first woke up, but he recognized the greens anywhere. He shook the man gently as he groaned. The name 'Jones' was near his breast pocket but he didn't see any dogtags around his neck.

"Jones? You alright man?"

The dark skinned man grunted and nodded. "I am… fine," he murmured, his voice rather soft, "a headache, but it will pass."

"Well," he said with a grin, "hope you don't mind too much noise then because we have a base to defend. Up and at 'em, Jones."

He hauled the man to his feet and handed him an assault rifle. Jones seemed confused for a moment but he checked the mag and aimed down the sights. It seemed he was ready and as bare as they were they really had no other option. Gregory and Jones both were fighting for their country.

"Jones, your eyes on my back at all times right? No time to set us up with radios. Come on!"

Gregory was already out the door with Jones, hopefully following. He lifted his rifle and fired off a burst, and watched a roughly dressed form tumble down the side of the cliff. He made his way toward the front, sliding into cover with Jones beside him. The two of them were taking shots at the enemy. Even in their rags and roughshod AK-47s they seemed to be fighting for all their worth. The sands out east were savage enough and Gregory was assigned here in hopes of keeping away from the action. He didn't care though, a part of him liked combat. He stood out from cover and fired another two bursts, dropping a man each.

"Saunders!" He looked over at the Sergeant who ran towards him. His helmet partly dented in and taking blind shots with his pistol. He slid into cover beside him as Jones stood up and took a few shots at the oncoming foe.

"You and…whoever the hell you are, I don't care." He pointed towards a small wooden forest a bit out of their base. "They have a jammer just around the bend there and it seems to finally be working. The first group of men I sent off was taken down by a damned mortars! That jammer needs taken out. I already have a few others hoppin' to it so you two better get!"

Saunders gave a half-shod salute and was already running off, Jones in tow. It was odd the Sergeant didn't address Jones directly. He remembered the Sarge, though a bit of an ass, always remembered the names of men in the unit. Was Jones a new transfer? Those thoughts were pushed aside as he could already see a few more of his unit trudging off into the forest all of them keen to take the battle to them finally. It was key so they could radio in the attack and get some birds over here to wipe out the roaches.

Then he heard a distant whistle that was slowly getting louder.

"Mortar!" he heard a man ahead shout. "Get to-"

The shell hit the ground, splattering earth along his front and sending the man that was in front of him into the air in several pieces. Saunders was on the ground, ears ringing, and he could taste blood on his lip. He got to his feet, hauling his rifle with him only to see it bent at the barrel.

"Aw god damnit…" he cursed, throwing the warped weapon to the ground. "Jones you good?"

No response.

"Jones!"

"I-I am here."

He looked over to see Jones getting to his feet, perfectly unscathed. Either he was lucky or he threw himself against a tree when it came down. Saunders didn't care, he had an eye at his back and watching his six, that's all he cared about. The group of men kept going for what seemed like an hour before they came to the edge of the encampment they made.

"Shock and awe?" he heard one of the Corporals mutter.

"We got the hardware, might as well scatter them while we can." He heard another say, a PFC it seemed, who had an eager gleam in his eye and a M72 LAW ready to go.

"Right, hit them hard in three, two... one… now!"

They all poured out of cover, missiles arcing over them and crashing into the brick and dirt alike, scattering the enemy about. Saunders had no real choice but to get up close and personal. He swung his fist into the beard clad man ahead of him before drawing his knife and drawing it clean along his throat. One of his pistols was pulled up and he fanned the hammer, downing another two. A fourth came around, swinging a small blade at him and using a bit of his clothing to try and distract him. He caught the blow in two hands before he heard the shot from over his shoulder, dropping the man to the gorund before he slammed the heel of his boot several times into his face.

"Good shot, Jones."

The man nodded, a troubled look in his eye.

The two pressed further inside and Gregory couldn't tell the difference between the battleground outside, and the close pitched battle within the half-made bunker. Saunders and Jones continued on, only pausing to reload, before they came to the command center.

"Got a grenade?"

"A couple." Was the quiet reply.

Saunders pointed to two of the largest computers. "If I were a betting man those two would be what keeps the lights on. Take them out, I'll watch the hall, yeah?"

Gregory swapped positions with Jones who did as he was told, throwing the grenades into the servers. After a moment's pause they exploded, scattering shrapnel and bits of computer parts everywhere. With a grin and thumbs up Saunders made his way back outside, welcoming the fresh air. He wasn't sure how long the two of them were inside, but he was glad for the sunlight. Something though made him pause. He didn't hear anything. No gunfire, no shouting, it was all eerily quiet.

"…Jones you don't hear anything, do you?"

"Not a thing."

"Oh God…"

Saunders went into a full sprint, pumping his limbs and willing himself forward. He did the job right and in record time. He came back to the base, seeing what he feared, what tore open small holes in his stomach and mind. They were dead. All of them. The Sarge was torn open in two from what seemed to be a grenade and the rest were torn and shot beyond recognition. One name though stood out, the head was caved in but on the uniform he saw 'Jones' emblazoned on the breast pocket. Gregory turned, pulling up his revolver. His eyes stung.

"You! Who the hell are you?!"

"My name… My name is John Jones, I'm here to help you Gregory."

"Look around! I-I did what I could to save them and look, they're dead… they're all dead because I wasn't fast enough, strong enough…"

"Gregory," John murmured, approaching with his palms facing him, "you did all you could given the circumstances. None of these men blame you, nor does your government, nor do your friends. You fight your hardest because you believed in a good cause. You were discharged due to your behavior, one that has gotten worse lately helping us."

"Us? There's no 'us' here John—Wheover the hell you are. Look around you, the blood the scent of the failure. The screams. I hear them all the time. I want them to stop. I just want it all to stop."

He had his gun against his head and he pulled the trigger. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Each one brought him further to his knee and he looked at the ground. His shoulders were shaking as he felt the painful sobs wrack his body. It was all his fault here. It was all his fault back home. There was a time he was a smiling, grinning, charming cowboy. Now he just felt so tired.

John knelt in front of him and his hand rested on his shoulder. "Wake up."

"I am awake!" He snarled to him. "Look around here. I'm awake as I can be."

John suddenly had a knife in his hand. "Wake. Up."

The blade sunk into his chest and Gregory's eyes bulged at the sudden pain that wracked his body. He gripped the wrist holding the knife into him. John's features were shifting and warping before he fell to the ground, the world spinning above his head.

"He's coming to now." Gregory heard J'onn murmur softly beside him.

Gregory coughed, sputtered and sat up abruptly. His fist was raised but when he looked over he saw Superman's grip held him from doing something brash. He was panting and sweat soaked. His eyes were wide and wild. He heard PTSD could give someone nightmares, but with everything else compounded he was worried he was worried he wouldn't wake back up. By all means he shouldn't have. What sort of twisted God kept his soul strung to this world?

"Welcome back, Gregory." He heard Bruce, sans helmet, say. "We were worried we lost you in the Cave."

"I'm in the Tower then?" His voice felt like sand, but he simply cleared his throat trying to gather what little of his wits around him.

Batman nodded. "During the time you were unconscious the League called in who we knew and used them to hold back the Court. They've returned to hiding, but we have our own eyes on them now."

He had no doubt anyone who looked at him now could see the age on his face. He raked his hands through his hair as a low, shaky sigh slid from him. He put his feet on the ground and thankfully the sheets covered his modesty, barely. The cool floor dulled a bit of the headache, but not by much. He could see the amount of scars on his arms and hands alike from all manner of sources. He was reminded everyday of his failures, and now J'onn was privy to just before his more blurred out time.

The first question that came to mind stumbled out of his mouth. "How long?"

"Nearly a month." Superman explained, and Gregory eyed over the boyscout for a moment not quite believing him but why would Superman of all people lie? "You're still not fully recovered, but Bruce and J'onn both agree that you're well enough to at least move around."

The second came soon after, even as he rubbed his aching throat. "How bad?"

Superman folded his arms over his chest. "The Court's enforcer broke most of your limbs, your nose, jaw and half your ribs. It's only thanks to the Watchtower's medical facilities and an intervention by STAR Labs that you're able to move at all."

Gregory's eyes narrowed on him. "…The hell you mean by that?"

"I'll explain it to him," Batman said to them, "mind giving us the room?"

The two left and Batman sat in front of him. "This seems familiar doesn't it?"

Gregory let out a bitter laugh. "A bit, yeah."

"I'm concerned and glad at the same time Gregory. You're alive and well, all things considered but there's a thought of the third time you don't come back. Do you want to die that badly?"

He thought of the sand, blood between his fingers, the attempted, failed suicide right then and there. Was it all a dream? Did John make that scenario up in his mind to bring him back? He rubbed at his face in both irritation and trying to make sense of the warped madness in his mind. "No, but if some lucky son-bitch gets me when I'm out fighting so be it."

Bruce nodded to that. "I can respect that, in a way, but maybe if you have something to fight for might give you further motivation."

"Maybe, but what did Supes mean by a STAR Labs intervention?"

"When your limbs, and most of your body, was damaged I was admittedly lost for what we could do to help. STAR Labs though, as WayneTech heard through the grapevine, came up with a way to help repair lost and damaged tissue while recinforcing it at the same time."

"…meaning what? I can't get hurt that easily?"

"Due to it being experimental, it's hard to say, but how do you feel right now?"

He flexed his hands, curling them into fists. The satisfied popping of bone made his shoulders slump a bit. "Good, all things considered."

Bruce nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "Good, what STAR Labs mentioned to the Batman was all seemingly hush, hush, any changed I want you to let me know as soon as you're able to."

Gregory nodded in agreement with that. The two went into a bit of a comfortable silence for a moment before Gregory looked to the floor. He didn't like probing into people's personal lives, but he considered Bruce a friend, or at least a known associate at this point. "How are things with you and…Cheetah after the attack and all?"

"She's well," he swore he could hear the smile in his voice, "fawning over and worrying about me as always, but Alfred is making sure her other work is well under way."

Gregory perked up a bit. He read the little bit on Cheetah he was allowed, but he admittedly had a bit of interest at this. "Oh? Something with genetics and such, ya?"

"Her field of choice, yes, that's how she became who she is now. She's trying to find a way to reverse engineer the process so she can develop a serum, or pill, to suppress the effects."

Gregory smirked and couldn't help but take a jab. "Should I be expecting a little cat-bat fluttering around in the next year or so?"

Bruce managed to keep the blush from his cheeks, but not the grin. "Who knows, we can see how it plays out. Cheetah and I are… content together, but I think, we both think it seems, that something isn't quite right."

"…May I speak freely, spooky?"

Bruce chuckled quietly. "You've done that before, Gregory and you certainly don't need my permission."

Gregory nodded slightly to that, but he knew his direct manner put some people off despite the playful jabs he threw here and there. "You and her are both happy right? I say enjoy it while you can and then deal with anything else as ya need to. We don't get happiness in this line of work. Just enjoy it while ya can, I think."

"Truer words never spoken," Bruce agreed with solemn nod of his head, "but I agree with that. Hopefully when she and I see each other tonight, we can discuss the… couple of ideas you mentioned properly."

"And what am I going to be doing during all of this? I don't feel one hundred percent, spooky but if you need me I'm there in a heartbeat."

Bruce was quiet for a moment, and Gregory was worried that he said something wrong. "Then starting tomorrow, I think it will be time for you to be properly inducted into WayneTech as my Chief of Security." Bruce's head tilted a bit in thought, brows knitted as he mulled over a few things. "Ah, and we get to meet your new bodyguard while you're on administrative leave."

Gregory shrugged as he ran a hand through his hair lazily to hide the sheer surprise. He was expecting maybe to work with him, but to have a salary paying job? Well that was something he was quite content with. "Chief of Security sounds nice and all spooky, I'd be glad to help out ya know that but—Wait, bodyguard?"