'John' had watched with morbid fascination as the men he called his brothers had been thrown; like leaves caught in a storm. Helpless.
Scott hit a tree with the satisfying sound of something giving and weak connecting with something truly unrelenting joined by the crunch of bones, while Virgil tumbled down the ridge, wrapped in iron chains and a biting trap and cries of pain, and all the while Alan watched in… he wasn't sure, before being swept off his feet as the explosion reached him.
there was a tug, something deep down that told him he should feel bad, that he should mourn for the loss that these men would endure. he was torn.
there men where his brothers, his life. he owed everything to them, but, this wasn't real. they where a representation of something he needed to understand to escape, but what? He could not work it out and he had been trying for a while. This was the key though, he was sure of it.
He rewound the video and watched it through again. He had seen it through so many times he was deaf to the explosions and screams now. He jumped when the the comms sparked up, Alan was calling again. He sighed and pondered for a moment, he would have to give in and talk to the youngest eventually. He swiped the video away and answered the call.
Answers could wait, dream or not he felt bad for leaving the child alone after what he had been through.