The medic pressed a bandage against Tadashi's wound and immediately he grimaced, but more from the stench of blood and antiseptic that overwhelmed his senses.

"Pretty bad shape. Bad run?" Asked the medic casually.

Tadashi kept silent, slumping back onto his bed.

"Don't turn over on your side, son. It's going to tear the stitches open if you keep doing that."

Much too tired and weakened to complain, Tadashi only let out a grunt, adjusting his body uncomfortably. He placed an arm on his eyes to block out the piercing lights. The stress and insomnia had taken its toll on his body; aches and strains had begun to reveal themselves in different muscles, loosening and tensing some in a completely unnatural fashion. There had never been a proper infirmary unit established in the camp. The medic had left all the necessary first-aid equipment Tadashi needed or would need to tend to my injuries by his bedside.

He had done a good job with the treatment though. Tadashi could feel no inconsistencies in the linings of the bandage when ran his hand across their smooth grooves. Something Aiko would have done well too, thought Tadashi.

The encounter with the infected earlier had left a stream of adrenalin behind in his system, and his hands had been trembling non-stop ever since. It had been the same routine for two years, productively spent on hunting and taking the infected down in the most violent of methods, from bludgeoning to strangling them with his bare hands. But what else was there to life? Existence.

As the residual energy in his brain seeped away, his ears were filled with the sounds he could only hear: moans of the forsaken and the wet splatter of bullets as they penetrated a skull. With that, he lay back down on the bed, closing his eyes.

He was so tired of it all.

It was nightfall when Tadashi woke up.

Light from a dim, flickering lamp replaced the electric ones above. He massaged his throbbing head, which was strained from sleep inertia gently. He sat up with a groan, kicking the frame of the bed as he did so.

"Take it."

An outstretched hand offered Tadashi a cup of water. He tried to turn away but realized he couldn't. She was holding onto his arm with a firm grip.

"Take it." She said again, but with slightly more force. Tadashi received the cup grudgingly, though he was actually grateful for the cool liquid that soothed his parched throat.

"When did you get into the mood for a visit?" He finally asked humorlessly. Tomago shrugged.

"I got you a job."

He reached for the screwdriver next to his bed and lay back down. He began spinning it in his hand, watching it intently as it flipped and landed back into his grip perfectly.

She slapped it out of his hand and Tadashi closed his eyes, sighing. "Dog job. The usual thing." Tomago fumbled with her pocket and passed a crumpled piece of paper to him. "Details."

On the paper was a familiar symbol of a firefly. The symbol of rebels who wanted out of the dictatorial and routine system of zones, those who felt that life was worth more than merely existing, those who felt that they needed to survive, to restore the Earth to whatever flourishing point it was in before. It was an idealistic cause that threatened to take away the position of whatever was left of governments, thus the label "rebel". Those found involved with the Fireflies were thrown out of the zones and ties were severed, but in a twisted way they also got what they wanted. Now they would not simply exist, but they had to fight for their survival, competing with the rogues and infected for a place in the world. Tadashi smirked and shook his head. Life offered itself with such paradoxical opportunities.

The paper was a job note, with instructions.

SUBJ. ATTN:

TADASHI H.

TARGET LOCATION:

TOWN MALL

TRANSACTION:

M4A1CARB (x2)

M16A2 5.56x45mm (x2)

GLOCK19 9x19mm (x2)

FOOD RATIONS (TBC)

After reading the note, Tadashi crumpled it up and held it above the flame of the lamp.

"I don't run unless I ask for it."

"Just be grateful that I got you a job." Tomago settled herself onto a chair.

Tadashi watched the paper shriveled and char as it lingered in the fire. Soon enough, everything from ash to unsettled scores and unpaid debts blanketed the air. He pulled it out of the lamp when only the whites of the paper were left and leaned back against the bed frame.

"When do I start?"

Tomago sat up straight and looked up at him. Her eyes were so tense they almost seemed to be suppressing some kind of panic. "Now. You must go now."

He looked at her exasperatedly. She shook her head.

"No, you… you don't understand." She paused to draw in a breath. "This… It wasn't what it was supposed to be. It's different."

Tadashi was starting to get annoyed.

"Well maybe if you stop being so damn mysterious about it I would actually understand its importance!"

Tomago's body abruptly stiffened and her grip on the chair tightened. "I thought you were all about saving people." She had finally pulled out her triumph card: his Achilles heel. "You lost my sister and my niece." Her eyes narrowed at the mention their names. "Here's your chance to make it up. But now there's a twist to it, that's all."

"Stop that, Tomago." Hissed Tadashi. She knew the sore spot well enough to press onto it, hard. "I told you I'd go."

Her expression relaxed slightly at his promise. "I'm coming with you on this one." She finished off, before she stood up to leave.

Tadashi grabbed her arm. "You kidding? We work separately."

His hand tightened as she struggled in his grip. "We never meet contacts together. Leiko Miyazaki, you will not get implicated in this." He hissed.

Tomago shook his hand off roughly, securing her ponytails as she walked towards the door. "No, I'm not. I'll meet you at the underground opening." Her reply quavered with each word.

Tadashi watched her go. She stumbled unsteadily out of the room, offering a muttered apology as she banged into someone outside-. Fear was easy to sense, especially when it radiated so heavily from one.

"Screw this," he growled, picking up his rucksack and gas mask from the ground.