Clip 2 – The Heart of Abel

So we're jogging along at a pretty fair clip, nothing awful, but Seven is chatting up a storm like we're kicked back in a couple of recliners. Come to think of it, I'm kind of having a hard time imagining this guy relaxing at all, let alone lazing about in a recliner. I bet he spends his off-duty time doing pushups or getting in some extra training … probably with a gun. I'm not the least bit annoyed at having been sent outside the compound without having been issued a weapon. Not even so much as a damned stick! No, I don't resent that one little bit.

Seven doesn't seem particularly torn up about the death of the previous Five. Wonder if he's the one who shot her. But I can't fault the guy for being practical. It's actually kind of nice. Makes it easier to keep my distance, for one thing. And it means I can probably trust him not to do anything stupid enough to get us both killed.

He does, however, seem to be carrying some sort of grudge. Was there someone else from Mullins who'd been here before me – someone who'd been abruptly shipped out again? Or had Seven actually been on assignment somewhere else for Mullins and then ordered here to Abel? It's tough to imagine him getting attached to anyone other than his comrades-in-arms, but I suppose it's not out of the question entirely. He is human, after all. (I think.)

Note to self: don't gripe about our absentee major anywhere near Seven. His entire bearing broadcasts his military experience; he's the sort that probably doesn't consider himself ex-military. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he'd signed on right out of school. But it seems he was probably good at it, and if he was happy with his life, who am I to fault him for that?

I'm not entirely comfortable with the way he says 'we'll take care of you,' though. In fact, I think I'm going to take back my earlier statement that he's not intimidating. Right now I'm thinking that Seven might be the most terrifying person I've ever met, because if I've read him wrong and he's not the idealistic, honor-bound soldier boy I'd figured, it might be that instead he's a calculating, psychopathic killer who's planning to … well, I really don't want to think about what he might be planning.

Right! The armory. Let's talk about guns, and how I'm never going to be given one. That'll make me feel ever so much better as I run along beside you, Seven. He prates on about their tactics and their brilliant stand in the face of overwhelming odds, and I try to maintain a respectfully neutral expression.

And then he decides to test me, of course. Really, are lives so cheap lately that it's fine to risk sprinting past a zombie to get a closer look at a fluttering scrap that "might be nothing, might be something"?

But I'm neither so cowardly nor so blase that I'm willing to let him take that risk on his own. And maybe my pride has something to do with it. I'm not about to let this self-righteous twit think I'm some kind of worthless mooch. So when he shouts "Go!" I'm right there beside him, sprinting for all I'm worth.