Author'sNote: Just so y'all know, this is NOT the sex scene, but there is one coming. To answer "soap's" question, I don't know about another series based off one book. If you haven't noticed already, I kinda followed my own set of rules with these books (I call them books because they're longer than fuck). For one, I really tried to follow the original books as much as possible. I tried to squeeze these characters in where I could without modifying the books (Which is why the Kill House is outside of the camp's border and why the members of the Strike Team and Percy don't like each other. Paraphrasing Percy in this story "You guys will not go down in history!") I apologize, but I don't think it's in the cards. Not just the story aspect of it, but I just don't have the time. I'm smack dab in the middle of my freshman year in college, starting a new job here pretty soon, and trying to finish an original piece of my own all at the same time. Anyways, I appreciate the push to finish this story. Probably never would've happened without you guys. So thank you!

David

I skipped a few of my classes later in the day to do some shooting. Even further away from the camp's border, Big Luke, Brandon and I had marked off about a eight hundred yard stretch to be used as a range. I was taking it easy, not even using my M110. I was trying to replicate the shot I should have taken on the roof of the office building where we engaged Kyle and John.

I had two big coffee cans set up on a log. One was spray-painted green and placed in front and off to the right of a red-painted can. I had about five sets of cans set up. If you can't figure it out, the green can is the noncombatant (Brittany) and the red can is the threat (John). It was a perfect replication of the situation, but I had a choice to make: cans with real bullets, or automatons with Simunitions. The problem with Simunitions us that they don't have the same ballistics as real rounds.

I was standing there with Brandon's 416 shouldered and sighted at the cans. They really weren't hard shots without the adrenaline pumping though my system and the target not moving all over the place. It got so easy that I could hit all five targets within about six seconds.

After the gun went click for the sixth time, I dropped the magazine and turned around. Standing there watching me was Brandon.

"Hey," he said.

"You really shouldn't sneak up on someone with a gun in their hands," I told him.

He looked down at the ground and kicked a rock. "Sounds like something Big Luke would say."

"Yeah, it does." I held Brandon's rifle with the empty magwell in my left palm so it balanced from front to back. "Sorry about borrowing your gun without asking."

"Don't worry about it. I don't think it'll really be mine here for much longer." We both just kind of stood there in the awkwardness of it all.

I sighed. I hadn't really thought about all that.

"I mean, now that the war is over, can't imagine there be any reason to still have a Strike Team," Brandon mentioned.

"Mmmm. . . No. Kronos has got to have a few more little nests of monsters or PMC still hanging around, waiting to regroup. We can't just end it now."

Brandon shook his head. "You're hanging on too hard, David. I mean. . . you kinda knew deep down that this was going to come to an end at some point."

I was absentmindedly was bouncing the rifle against my leg. On one bump, the bolt catch was depressed and the bolt slammed home. It was always a lot louder when you weren't in the middle of a war zone and not expecting it. We both jumped at the noise. Then sighed simultaneously when we realized what it was.

"I don't know. Maybe you're right," I said, walking over to a different log and leaning the 416 up against it. "It just. . . it went by so fast, you know? I mean, we just got the Strike Team back together."

"We almost lost Big Luke, Dude. Plus, a Strike Team is only useful when you have an enemy to fight."

"Well. . . we could do rescue missions, like when we rescued Brittany and Mathew. I mean, it'd probably be a nice change of pace from taking lives to saving them?"

"Yeah, but that's why we've got the satyrs. And you're probably going to end up taking a few lives in the process, like when we rescued Brittany and Mathew."

I knew he was right. I just didn't want to admit it. Brandon wasn't rattling them off, but there was a laundry list of reasons why the Strike Team couldn't continue. I mean, I can't imagine Big Luke sticking around now that the war was over. That alone brought most of the problems: we would lose all those military contacts and weapon and ammunition surplus, we would have to find a new ride because he's sure to take KATE with him, we wouldn't have his experience to draw from, not to mention the guy fought hard enough for three guys by himself.

"I guess you're right." I started to think more. "I think I want to go into law enforcement. I'm thinking SWAT."

"What? Like everybody seems to think we are? You'd make a great SWAT cop! Like a sniper or something? That'd be perfect for you!" Brandon replied.

"You think so?"

"Of course!" he said. Then he looked over my shoulder at the cans on the log. "You trying to replicate the scenario on the roof?"

I turned around and looked at all the green cans still standing, intact. "Yeah."

"You're not feeling guilty are you? I mean, there was nothing you could've done. What happened, happened. You can't change that now—"

"That doesn't mean I can't practice to prevent it."

Brandon sighed. "I guess that's true."

"So, when is Dasha showing up?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "She's supposed to call me when she gets to the airport. Then I'll borrow KATE to go pick her up."

"Are you guys going to start seeing each other? Like as a relationship?" I asked him. I wasn't trying to make fun of him. I know he really likes her and there is nothing wrong with that.

"She said she'd think about it and she'd have an answer for me when she got here. She says she wants to, but she doesn't quite know if it's the right move. I've pretty much decided that I'm not even going to bring it up. I'll let her do that," Brandon explained.

I nodded. "Probably a smart move. There's no pressure that way."

"Weeelllll, I don't know about 'no pressure' but certainly less pressure," he said.

"You know, I give you a lot of shit about her, but I don't mean anything by it. I think you two will be great for each other," I told him sincerely.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. And thanks, man. That means a lot."

There was another awkward pause.

"Have you gone and seen Big Luke yet today?" I asked him.

"No, not yet. I figured I'd check on you before I went and saw him. I'll leave you alone now. See you later," he replied before turning around.

"Alright. I'll be up there in a bit. I'm just going to shoot a little bit more." He just nodded and started walking.

I turned around and set up my cans again. Then I reloaded Brandon's 416 and continued shooting. I figured I'd grab a couple automatons after a few more rounds with the cans. That way I can practice with a moving target. For once, I was really glad that Brittany was so tall for a woman. That made replicating that shot a lot easier. All of Big Luke's automatons were identical and built to be about six-feet tall.

When I got my shot time for the five targets down to five seconds flat, I went back to the Kill House to gather two robots and a metric crap-ton of 5.56 millimeter Simunitions. For added realism, I put my plate carrier over my CHB T-shirt and my helmet on my head. It almost felt nostalgic after a month and then some.