Red, Green and the Kaleidoscope

by Napster153

In the Land of Nod, there was a common, unspoken rule. Power defines authority, and he who commands the past, conquers the future and defines the present. The mystery of what was once thought to be mere savages and brutes was one that would haunt Remnant for what would be many years to come. What was certain, however, was that Nod was here to stay, as it always has.

7. Chapter 7: Unyielding (1)

Chapter 7: Unyielding (1)

'There should be a science of discontent. People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.'

Gravity worked against the norm.

For a brief moment, my feet were lifted off the steel floor as the Crawler flopped onto the earth with an audible thump that could be heard and felt within me. Both my hands reached to the surface of the projection table to help secure my landing, to mild degrees of success seeing as how I was still bent over one knee.

Still, I was grateful my reflexes had saved me from any unwanted harm. Taking a deep breath, I surveyed my surroundings.

Curse the red light, it favoured me poorly now under the current circumstance.

"Report," I called out.

"Locomotion engine is strained but operable," the co-pilot spoke across the shoulder.

"She'll hold, but we need a breather sir," continued the pilot. "Plus, there's no way we're gonna be able to go through that forest without a scratch if we push it."

Perking up at the man's words, I stood up and made my way to the front. Leaning over the space between the two seats, I looked out and was partly amazed at what I saw.

Tree. Actual trees! Each about as tall, if not taller than the crawler itself. It was truly an otherworldy thing to see after seeing nothing but sand and heat for months on end. Alas, I could not tell if there was soil and greenery below us, given the elevation of the control room.

"Sir, focus," a voice came from my left, strained. "We still need orders."

Hearing this, I shook my head and muttered a soft apology to him. I immediately ordered for unpacking, followed by immediate disembarking of medical staff.

"EVA," I summoned. "Status report on our forces."

"Latest Grimm attack has resulted in additional six percent decrease in force strength. Current forces are reaching upper levels of combat ineffectiveness."

Thinning my lips, I nodded at the given assessment. As the cursors and figures appeared on the now cracked surface of the table, I noted just how smaller the circle covering the crawler had gotten.

For days non-stop, we'd been fighting the Grimm horde ever since they exorcised us from the motor pool assault. It was mostly delaying engagements and elaborate diversions to draw them away long enough for the crawler to gain distance, but still the losses were mounting, especially since there was no time to rest for more than an hour before having to move again.

At some point, our luck to a turn and some of the horde turned to go elsewhere. What remained was considered manageable by the militia. The toll for the journey, however, had still been enforced in both men and ordinance along with rest and comfort. It didn't help that I pushed for a forced march for yet another day or so, which was how we ended up here. Now, everyone was tired from the relentless pursuit and battle.

"…. Build a Hand and VAF," I ordered after some thought. "Whoever is not injured, tell them to dig in. Everyone is to assume they're standing duties, otherwise.

"Affirmative, commander," EVA complied.

I straightened my posture before sweeping my gaze over the control room.

"Well done, all of you," I breathed. "Try and get some rest after this."

"… Will do, commander," drawled the pilot.

A brief pause later, I exited the space and into the adjoining hallway. Without stopping, I went straight to my room; a silent prayer was made so that I didn't encounter anyone else along the way. One that held up until I was safely behind the doors.

The moment I heard the familiar click of the lock behind me, I was quick to vent out all the build within in me a long, cracked sigh.

"RAAAAHH!"

A fist sailed the air, striking the wall with a dull thump. The force reverberated and sent the fist recoiling back with a flare of pain in tow. Another sigh barely escaped me, this one mixed with the faintest whimper.

Not bothering to take my seat behind my desk, I crashed into the sofa on my right, throwing my head back as I did so.

'More than a month out in this dustbowl and for what?'

Really, I guess I was stupid to think that this would be simple. Yet, I guess I really should've seen this coming.

'First the journey, then the Tiberium and now this!' I gleamed back to the recent developments.

My palms reached up to press on my eyes.

Just what the hell am I doing right now anymore?

This was never going to be easy. That much I knew from the start. But to think we were reduced to this? Just savages going about robbing helots for no reason other than so and so? It was and will always sound stupid.

Part of me now wondered, what would've a real commander of Nod do at this point?

Slavik? He would've somehow found a breakthrough and smashed his way across the desert.

Marcion? Probably talked his way out and eventually got the desert-folk to side with him.

And those were just the named ones. What about those like Karrde? Or the Insurgent from the third game. Hell, what would any other Nod fanatic do, period?

Goddammit, the question just pissed me off!

Another breath exhaled.

"Sorry to do this to you, Kane. Hell of a leader I am."

'Hope that thing that sent me here is enjoying his show.'

Simply thinking of it was enough to send a new spiral of woe to merge with the storm raging withing me. I silently fumed; the sides of my temple pressed to the point of aching whilst my heart felt even more clenched.

What was it? Minutes? Hours? I didn't care, and perhaps not those outside. A thought crossed me, and I figured they must've built grudges against me by now. Loyalty was stint when done under coercion, which by now they must've been feeling. I should know, since it was certainly something that I'd pick out if I didn't feel like I wasn't making any meaningful headway.

And right now, the amount of progress felt severely lacklustre.

Oh, who was I kidding….

Throwing my weight forward, I got up and headed towards the desk. Particularly, my attention was pulled towards the black hard drive still slotted in. The mere sight of it, strangely enough, stirred something other than simmering indignation.

Close to half a year, eh?

I shook my head from the thought and activated the console with a hard tap of the power button. Perhaps it was a sign of my own slips, but apparently the device wasn't even turned off properly but left in standby mode. Ignoring this, I began doing something I hadn't done in a while. Namely, sifting through the extensive knowledge stored within the compact storage device.

Whether it happened to be a sign or not is up to debate, but what first appeared on my screen was by no means coincidental.

---

"...Nod operational doctrine states that commanders should control the tempo of combat operations, avoiding direct contact with the enemy until the time and place are just right. Stealth, speed, mobility, force composition, and operational flexibility are the key to success..."

---

Excerpt from Tiberium Wars regarding Nod Tactical Doctrines

To one whose played the game where this quote was specifically written for, this was about as familiar as someone telling you how to play your favourite toy. Anyone who has played Nod.in the game knows that you either won fast or outlasting everyone else. The Brotherhood does not have staying power otherwise, and often ends up on the receiving end of an Ion Cannon strike or an armored fist shoved up the ass, courtesy of GDI's superior armour. I sincerely doubt this changed even with the Scrin.

Wait, hold on.

Stealth, speed, mobility, force composition…..

My mind replayed all the previous engagements we've had up until this point. While certainly not unwarranted given the circumstances, there was a certain absence that only now I was starting to realise.

It left me feeling rather hollow.

My mind drifted much to my own dismay, and sadly I couldn't immediately piece together what exactly I felt that was lacking in the current situation. Yet, this matter was giving me something to focus on other than my own inadequacy and it certainly was a serendipitous gift on its own.

Standing up, I went to get myself cleaned whilst thinking more on the matter.

Alas, the answer would continue to escape me, but it didn't stop me from thinking up ways to improve. Of which, I immediately sought out the services to make it happen.

---

Thinking more on the matter of the current methodology of war led to some interesting conclusions.

Conclusions that highlighted how lacking we were as a fighting force.

With what little cognizant I had for war; I knew well enough that it usually meant having the most reach in the field. He who struck first had the better chance of grasping victory as they say.

Out of what I remembered in my days surfing the Internet, I came to remember one form of artillery that dared I say would best fit the current criteria we needed to wage war.

The French Caesar Self-Propelled Howitzer. A mobile artillery consisting of a 155mm cannon mounted on a six-wheeler with a range of forty kilometres – sixty if operated by elite crews and upgraded. This weapon was fast enough to keep stride with our existing complements whilst being destructive enough to lay waste to any targets under ten minutes.

In other words, this was Nod's bombardier artillery unit from the first war brought to life.

I watched as the first of these vehicles was being gestated within the mechanical birthing pit that was the Vehicle Assembly Facility. Built in the likeness of Nod's War Factories, these inferior copies were fitted with enough to produce whatever vehicle template was uploaded to the computers built within the pit. The crew, however, was still trained at the Hand and would have to make their way to the pit to pick up their assigned vehicle. Only after it has been moved that the next vehicle was made, and the process repeated.

Just like the previous times, the VAF was on the right side of the ConYard's entrance whilst the Hand Mockery was on the left. The fifty or so vehicles we had on our disposal were parked right in front of the entrance, ranging from alt bikes to Bradleys.

Standing to the side, I watched with rapt fascination at the sparks and flashes occurring below me. The way the lights danced and bounced off the walls reminded me of fireworks I'd seen and played with in my youth.

That seemed so long ago now. It made my heart sink.

"Some masterwork stuff, right?"

I whipped my head around. Heart skipping a few beats at the voice.

There, standing rather laidback, was a man, barrel chested and looking like he could bench lift stones if he wanted. Much different than the rest I've seen, he wore no poncho or hoodie. Instead, he had a basic combat uniform, black coloured with a grey undershirt. Most notable, however, were the bandana tied around his neck and along with the goggles slipped between his belt and trousers.

Chewing the air in my mouth, I turned back to the pit.

"Hey, come on. No word?"

"What's there to be said? Not like it matters anyways."

"Hey," a hand tapped my shoulder, earning reflexive shrug from me. "Don't be such a pissface. We're all brothers here, right?"

I looked back at him, doubt slowly forming.

"… Do you know who I am?" I asked, earning a rather long look in return.

"Pfft, yeah," he tried smiling, eyes darting away from me for a moment. "You're… one of the guys, right? A part of the crew for the howitzer."

A hand had slowly snaked its way to the sidearm by my side. Carefully done in such a way that it was easily mistaken for me just nonchalantly putting a hand to my hip. Selling it, I raised an eyebrow and began speaking off-handed,

"Close," I emphasised with a sniff. "I'm part of engineering. Just got sent here to make sure everything is running smoothly."

"…. Oh," he mumbled.

"Yeah…"

"So, uhm," he scratched his head. "You're not my crewmate then?"

"No, I'm not."

We stood there silent for a while.

"… So why the covered face?"

My lower jaw shifted beneath the balaclava. Truth be told, I hated the sense of smell. It was the one part of me that gave me grief under the worse conditions. Normally, it'd be entirely non-existent from the rest of my situational awareness, but today of all days it was acting up and I deduced it had to do with the flora that bordered the desert; the first ones we'd seen in months.

"Hey!"

I snapped out of my thoughts, as we both turned our heads in the direction of the voice. There, running towards us, were five men. Each wore similar to the first man, albeit some sported gloves covering their hands.

The man at the head of the group. He looked rather irritated.

"Where did you think of going off to?"

"I-I just thought it'd be better to wait here-"

"You missed the damn briefing, idiot," he glowered. "Next time, try and wait a bit before letting your ass muscles do the decision making for you."

Hearing this, I stepped between the two.

"Now, that wasn't very nice of you," I pointed out. "Was the meeting that important that you have to gnaw at him like that?"

The man in question -short-cropped black hair, and green eyes- looked at me.

"And what's your problem?" he puffed himself. "Get lost if your part of the crew."

"I'm here to make sure that all is well with the latest addition to Nod's arsenal," I spoke matter-of-factly. "And it's clear now that there are apparent impurities within the first model that need to be listed for review."

I'm guessing this guy was a lot smarter than I gave him credit. That, or he might've had an even shorter fuse than the rest. Either way, he was out to make it clear just who was taller than who as I suddenly found myself off the ground and held up by the collar of my BDU.

"Now listen here smartass," he growled. "Fuck off, or I tear that sack off your face and give you a nice face changer."

Holy, this really isn't my day.

I could feel the knuckles in the hand holding me up pressing against my collar bone. Yet, any form of fight-or-flight refused to kick in as my mind still tried to process the fact that I'm one step away from being assaulted by my own subordinate.

I'd understand if the muscle man behind me couldn't recognise me by chance, but this guy? Just what the hell was wrong-

Wait, he said sack….

My balaclava again? I understand the other guy not recognising me, but why the hell couldn't this guy recognise his leader as well? Shouldn't my voice be a dead giveaway?

Any basic answer I could bring forward was rudely cleared away before it could manifest clearly in my mind when the hand that held me suddenly loosened its grip, resulting in me dropping back down on the beachgrass.

Down on one knee, I was quick in swinging my head up. A quick appraisal of the situation alerted me that a fight was starting to break out. The man that had first greeted me was now squaring off with the leader. Around him, the rest of the crew was circling him like pack-oriented predators.

"I'm gonna make this good," said the leader ecstatically, his stance balanced on the balls of his feet. "When we're done, you'll be my big bitch to do what I plea-"

"Enough."

All six heads turned. Five sporting various forms of ill-intent. One with a mix of annoyance mixed with worry.

What they saw had them immediately going from one expression to another.

All eyes were on me and my unconcealed face. My balaclava in one hand and the other, my WMT raised to further emphasise my position. I looked from one face to another and noted the brief bewilderment turned fear-stricken look.

"Atten-"

"Shut up, no one told you to speak," I snapped at the leader, who had reset himself and now stood ramrod straight.

I looked at the rest, noting their irresponsive behaviour.

"Line up for inspection," they moved at my order, forming in a line to the left side of the leader with Muscle Man forming the tail end of the formation.

The men were now mostly stone-faced. Yet, if they think that was going to save them now, then they had another thing coming.

"You," I called out as I approached the leader. "Name and number."

"1930-Frank."

"Rank and role?"

"Unit commander, I'm in charge of ensuring the gunnery crew perform to their utmost capacity in and out of combat."

I nodded. Turning to the next man, I repeated the same questions.

Followed by the next man, and the one after him until each had their share of rhetoric questions asked. By the time I had reached the end, I knew their names and roles.

From left to right, they were Frank, Ezaz, Masih, Gagan, Gaizaz and Egor.

I nodded, my mind digesting the information in the background. I felt the features around my eye tense as the response from within me surfaced to the forefront of my mind.

"You all, define yourselves as soldiers."

They nodded.

"SO WHY DO I SEE DOGS!"

They winced.

"You!" I thrusted, palm up and fingers forward. My attack sent straight to instigator and then receiver. "And you! Why call yourselves soldiers, and then go on to pick fights, like mutts in the damn garbage dump!"

I paced slowly; long strides matched by my squared form. "You think that just because you lot came out lucky from the tube that you get to decide whose more tougher than who?"

"…,"

"ANSWER ME!"

"SIR! NO SIR!"

"THEN START ACTING LIKE IT!"

The muscles on my face pulled as I felt a certain pain flare from my neck. No, it was accurate to say my throat was starting squeeze.

Focus. Use the pain. Snarl at one!

Whipping to look at them, I caught Ezaz and Gagan glancing my way. The stare was miraculously well-timed, and they went back to their thousand-yard stare.

It was also around that moment, that a loud bleep sounded. The whirl of hydraulics drew my attention and I turned to see that the CAESAR had finished fabrication. It sported the signature grey tint of Nod's vehicles; particularly the ones used in the First War. Curiously, there was a certain haze surrounding the vehicle, and I inferred that this must've been the access heat still escaping the surface of the vehicle.

Turning back to look at the men still standing in line, I pondered for a moment just what to do.

Perhaps, the whole leadership thing was starting to get to me. That, and the fatigue and stress was definitely not helping by further warping the twistedness that were my own thoughts.

"Get out of my sight! All of you! I'll have something special for you lot later."

They didn't show hesitance. A simple salute and they were gone. For a brief moment, I caught Egor's look and there was no escaping the certain look of hurt in his eye.

My sight continued to remain vigilant until they were across the ConYard and disappeared behind its immense size. Only then, did I allow myself to bend forward.

Pain. Wheeze. Choking.

It had taken me every bit of my will to not let the pain show.

Never once, did I ever thought I'd had to push my voice that far. I'd had my fair share of tantrums and lash outs, but even those don't seem to compare to this.

'And these are probably going to get more frequent, aren't they?'

The thought wasn't pleasant, but alas it was just another reminder how little control I really had right now.

Deciding to take my focus somewhere else, I turned my gaze towards the Assembly Facility.

And the mobile artillery still awaiting its crew.

Releasing a pained sigh, I brought up my WMT.

"EVA," I called, voice sounding like grain. "Get me a new crew for this CAESAR."

"Training."

"… Oh, and EVA?"

"Yes, commander?"

"Give me a basic summary on troop morale and opinion on the current situation."

---

When talking of militia, discipline was by far the least relevant quality about them.

That isn't to say some groups couldn't be whipped into shape given time and effort, but the whole point of these bands of armed and violent was that they could be used as a cheap blunt instrument by commanders to avoid having to risk losing more qualified and expensive troops in less relevant theatres.

Still, what I saw upon approaching the grounds around the Hand was nothing short of revolting.

Smokes. A thick scent of what must've been garlic. Also, lots of ammonia from having around a couple hundred bodies in close quarters.

There were tents erected and a few campfires. Aside from that, there were close to none in the way of fighting positions or anything army related for that matter. As a matter of fact, most of the men didn't seem to be doing anything productive.

Why the hell were they just lounging around?!

Pain filled me. Albeit this was different from the one that still lingered in my throat. It wasn't caused by an external stimulant. Rather, something more indirect; an incorporeal sting.

For a time, I stood there watching the coming and going through the camp. Watching as these… men, stumbled and dawdled almost without a care in the world. My breathing, deliberate and weighty.

It intrigued me still that there was yet to be a single soul that noticed the short man with the balaclava over his head just standing there. I've yet to reason why they can't notice me with a visual obstruction covering my face, but I wasn't going to let the opportunity slide in seeing the men with my own eyes as they truly were.

And boy, their words were amazing in how treasonous they sounded.

"What do ya thin' 's doin?"

"Probably bitchin' to that chick of 'is."

"Man, I thought we were goin' to be seein' new places man! Not dick around shootin' a buncha freaks and sand boys."

"Very sure he has better prepare for a rat hole to go to. Little guys like him don't last long as commanders."

"…. Guy sees corpses a first time, and he cries. CRIES! Ha! Little bitch that's what he is."

Round and round the string of insults and bad mouthing went. Unaware that the one they were talking about was standing right there, with nothing but a cloth sack to cover him. I briefly wondered where those men from earlier were, and whether or not they've yet to spread the word of the earlier incident.

No matter, fiddling with the WMT, I made preparations to handle their crimes immediately.

"Oi."

I turned to look behind, and there I saw a man with a wide and burly physique. His green eyes glared at my dark ones. His light brown hair was just growing out of his buzzcut.

"What do you think you're doing just standing here?" he said whilst closing the distance. "Got something to say?"

Punching in the confirmation for my orders, I turned to fully face him.

"Something like that. Happened to be sent by the boss if that's what you're wondering."

He snorted, a small tug noticeable at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, well took your fucking time. Sergei just left with some of the leaders to find him."

"Really now?" I raised an eyebrow. "Guess I'll have to go see what else he needs then."

I made to move past him but, the moment I neared, a hand reached out and arrested my movement. Its iron grip kept me in place.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked.

"Just another guy with orders, why?"

"Then why you packing that?"

He looked down, and I didn't have to guess he was referring to the WMT. I'd figure somebody would eventually notice the one device reserved for higher ranking members, but I didn't foresee it in this way.

"Its just a tool for work, man." I tried -unsuccessfully- to pry the hand from my shoulder.

"Bullshit," he growled, tightening the grip ever so slightly.

"And what is it do you want to hear?" I glowered. "That I'm a fresh middleman here to boss you around in place of the commander?"

"Maybe," he breathed "but I wouldn't be acting like this if that were the case."

"Then what is it?"

"Bottom line is, I don't like you, and you know what I do to people I don't like?"

"What? Wait, hold on, I gue-"

Pain. Blooming pain. Just above the belly button. My vision blurred, but the sudden stimulant moved my head downwards for me and I caught the sight of something long being pulled back from my stomach area.

Time seemed to slow, and within that moment, a few things swam through my head.

My fight-or-flight had kicked in. In other circumstances, I'd hesitate to lash out even after a blow due to the repercussions it'd have with law enforcement.

Except, this wasn't the case here. This was Nod.

In Nod, only the strongest survive.

The present returned. I felt the beginning of a stumble occurring. Seeking to correct this, I leaned forward; legs kicking the ground the moment I knew my weight was now front heavy.

Caught the guy by surprise, did I? Cause I wasn't expecting him to fall flat on his back from my impulsive strike.

Strike. Yes, I have to strike while he's down. Where though? The chin, yes!

Don't think, just do!

SLAM!

Ah, fuck! My fingers.

SLAM!

Shit, that was the teeth.

SLAM!

Hit!

I coiled back for another strike, but that was when a loud clap sounded, and I began seeing both stars and blackness at the same time. Just barely, I registered a burning pain around my ears.

Oh, and I fell to the side of the man I was beating. Not good.

Was this what a real fight felt like, I thought? It really did feel long when it wanted to…..

Ow.

My upper jerked. I wanted to vomit. The black thing from earlier was back and had once again tried to impale me through the stomach.

This time, however, I could see that it was in fact linked to an even bigger, broader black object.

BRACE!

Forcing through the pain, I raised my arms. The wider ends facing the black mass that hovered above. Just in time, I began feeling the blows, but whether because of adrenaline or previous pain, the blows just weren't registering the same. That wasn't the problem though.

The real problem was that they were trying to get past my arms.

Equal parts claw and swing. Their frantic blows, reinforced by immense strength, made quick work of my weak form. There was no holding back, the first blow all but crushed my nose inwards.

No time, I had to survive. I had to live.

My arms had been thrown to the side and laid limp. Slowly I worked to find something I could use from my flanks.

As this happened, I tested the rest of my body. The waist and below were quickly invalidated. My opponent just too big and me uncertain for them to be of use. My head could move, but with the pain swimming through my skull, I had no certainty just how many blows I could avoid.

….. Was this guy gloating?

Sure enough, somehow my hearing was returning. I could barely make out what the man above me was saying.

"…..weak! All weak! When I'm done with him! I'm gonna make a point to get into that ConYard! And tear that whimp a new one! Who's with me?"

…. Okay, I've heard enou-

Ow!

I pulled back my right hand as pain erupted from it.

Wait, pain, from my hand?

Reaching out, I tried searching for the thing and sure enough there was that pain once more. Ow! Shit, what the hell was thing?! And was it hurting at the back of my hand when its my palm facing the ground?

No matter, no time to think anyways. Whatever this thing was, it clear fit into my palm which was enough. Holding it close, I prepared my return strike, fighting through newer eruptions of pain as I did so.

The fool's head was still turned to his surroundings. I guess a crowd must've gathered. A part of me wanted to wait, but considering what he said earlier, I opted to be the one to strike first.

Oh, and of course there was the knife slowly being unsheathed from his waist.

It was fortunate that he didn't press his weight on me. Hence, all I needed was to bend my knees and plant my feet to push forward on the ground. I'd also taken particular notice to a certain bump on his throat.

My first counterstrike was to pinch said bump. Using the gained momentum, I shoved him back down, so now it was I who was on top of him. With a slap, I forced whatever was in my hand down his mouth, then used my left hand still around his neck to close it.

He screamed. The man started screaming. I relished it.

The euphoria in my mind, cleared the fog surrounding it. Glee turned to fascination then horror.

The thing in my hand earlier… had been a scorpion.

A GODDAMN SCORPION!

I looked at my hand and sure enough it had swollen. Then I turned to the man below me and noted that the creature's tail was still protruding out of his mouth and giving him a number of nods.

Acting on instinct, I turned over before taking him by the back of collar and shoving him into the ground; I myself unwilling to remove by hand what I'd forced upon him. Thankfully, it worked and he managed to spit back out the creature.

I then took him by the head and crushed his face on the creature.

I didn't make the same mistake as he did and made sure to sit on him. My smaller frame worked to my advantage, and I doubt he could do much with me right between his shoulders and above his heart.

Letting go of his head, I let him rise just a bit. The now dead scorpion had acted on reflex and stung his cheek. I then pressed him down hard with my swollen right fist.

Again, I did this.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Again, and again and again. Until eventually, something stopped me. I turned, and there standing was another man.

Not just any man, I realised. It was Sergiu!

Turning back down to the other man still immobile below me, I gave a good look to make sure he didn't try anything funny. Only when the pressure began to build from my arrested hand did I stand, but not before pressing down on the ground one last time with a left stomp.

Eyeing the leader of Squad 3, I could immediately tell he was murderous. The homunculi only was restrained from killing me, because of the WMT on my wrist. I wondered though…

"You have less than six words to explain why I shouldn't spray you where you stand and mark you as a casualty for the commander."

Ah, there it was! Now, then….

"Day Two. MCV stuck. Croatia. Sarajevo."

Hearing those words, I had already expected him to not immediately grasp the meaning. I waited until past the fifth blink when I continued.

"I took Hassan."

Reality hit him, and he would've taken a step back before I halted him by holding with the left collar.

"We will discuss things in private," I whispered harshly.

Pushing him back, I turned to look around. Sure enough, there was a crowd around us. They looked equal parts livid, but also wary of what had been done to their brother.

Time to spin it even further then.

I pulled up the man I'd beaten, forcing him on his knees and revealing the swollen face with its minor bug-ridden infestation.

…. Okay scratch that. It was a serious one.

His face was covered in at least ten to fifteen nymphs. I could barely make out the sobbing.

Looking at the crowd, I could see they were equal parts, distressed and disgusted.

That won't do.

"Water," I looked behind at Sergiu and his cohort by extension. "Give me water, hurry!"

A canteen was passed to the front. I snatched it, open the cap, and began pouring generously over the man to wash him from the filth. At one point, I'd force his mouth open to drink, then force him to spit the water out in an act of parodying gargling water.

It was a messy kind of work, but it sure enough did it in clearing his face from the nymphs. He still needed medical attention though.

Turning to Sergiu, I motioned for him to take the man away, and sure enough he didn't hesitate. Along with two other men by his side, they rushed the wounded man into the ConYard.

That left me, alone. Alone with all these people.

Only now did I pull down the balaclava, revealing the face they were compelled to follow. The broken, beaten face.

A wave of surprised washed over the militia. Gasps, whispers, and mutters.

"Brothers," I called. "You disappoint me."

Almost immediately, all went silent.

"I placed my trust in you," I continued. "As you should have in me. Alas, I was mistaken.

I carefully eyed them. Gauging their looks.

"NONE OF YOU! ARE! NOD!" I screamed. "YOUR ALL WORSE THAN IMPOSTERS! YOUR JUST DEEFCTS!"

"WAS THIS WHAT ALSO CAME OUT OF THE VATS?!" I gestured to the surrounding encampment. "TO LAZE ABOUT, DRINK AND FAGGING FIRST WITHOUT A PROPER DEFENSE?! IS THAT IT? IF YOUR LOOKING TO DIE, THEN TELL ME AND I WILL HAVE A BULLET IN YOUR EACH OF YOUR HEADS. OTHERWISE, YOUR WORTH NOTHING!"

They winced. Good.

"Nothing," I lowered my voice, feeling the pain in my throat from earlier reaching its peak. "Not good for war. Or upholding anything. Far too useless for Nod."

"Die," I tilted my head. "Leave by dying, if your all dissatisfied with my leadership. You all said it yourselves right here, in front of me. Hell, one of you picked a fight with a superior officer. Even if it didn't happen to be me, that still warrants punishment."

The crowd looked uncertain now. Guess it was time to close this up.

"One day," I raised my hand. "I'll give you one day to decide whether you wish to stay in Nod, or out of it. Assuming you've made your conclusion earlier than this, then I implore you to off yourselves ahead of everyone else. Oh, and don't assume I wouldn't know if you tried anything funny."

On cue, pillars rose from the earth. The act scared the men, but even more so was the red beams of light that erupted from the side.

A laser fence.

"Your time starts now."

---

"Just what the hell were you doing out there, sir?"

"Doing a discreet inspection of the troops, what about it? Like the new look I got?"

"… Sir, you do realise that you're alienating the men, right? They won't take this lying down they will be as likely to go after you as they are your enemies."

"And what do you expect me to do? Take it lying down? Let them insult me as they please?"

"Nod is not just all muscle and bruises, sir. We do have professional arms and services to deal with this kind of misconduct."

I wanted to snap again, but the words died in my gut.

He was right.

I'd screwed up, and along with it, the stability of the Brotherhood.

"…. Power is a hell of a drug, Sergiu."

"Then get it under control, because things won't be getting easier from here on out."

I sighed. I turned to look at the man by my side; the one I'd mauled to 'prove a point'.

He was unconscious. The stress from the incident having sapped him of his strength. Not to mention the poison running in his veins, which left his face swollen.

"How bad is it, Doc?"

Benedict looked up from where he sat next to me.

"Well, I can say that its not the worst thing I've treated. You should let me tell you of the ones who come in from the brawling cages in India. Now, those were some real nasty stuffs."

The man in white was finishing the last bits of treatment on my right hand. The pain from the toxins was gone, but it still was rather swollen in its own right. A syringe was jabbed in and soon I felt the pain begin to subside.

"I meant the soldier next to me, here."

"Oh, Stana?" He tilted his head at me, eyes blinking. "Well, I can say with certainty that he's in no danger. But I can't say how fine he is. He's definitely had quite a number put on him."

I nodded. Looking at the militant, my mind betrayed me as it recalled the things I'd done to him.

It made me sick. A haunting thought came to mind.

"I really could've killed him."

"That you did, sir," Sergiu affirmed.

"Holy shit."

I heard a sigh.

Our little group of three went silent. Save for Benedict who began putting away his tools and cleaning up after his work.

"….I need to fix this."

"That you do sir."

I looked at Third Squad's leader. "So how, do I make up to them?"

He shrugged. "Hell, if I know, sir. Isn't that what you're supposed to come up with?"

With that he walked out. The doors to the sterile room opened and closed with an audible click.

Another sigh in the air, this time from me.

"You're tired, sir," Benedict stated. "Perhaps you ought to get some rest."

"I'm going to lay with a bed of knives, Benedict."

"A bed is still a bed no matter the surface, sir. Ignore the discomfort as best you can. You're gonna need it for tomorrow."

I stared at him. So badly, I wanted to open my mouth and pour my woes. Yet, the action never came. Instead, I stood up and straightened my BDU.

Before I reached the door, I looked at the unconscious form of the soldier, Stana I believe he was called. I noted the rise and fall of his chest. The way it seemed unsteady as if he was forcing himself to breathe whilst asleep.

The sight made my head feel heavy, and I walked out of the pristine white room that was the doctor's space with eyes downcast. The moment I walked out, a hand reached up and I rubbed my eyes. Wincing slightly as I realised it was my right.

From there, I made my way up to my quarters. I took extra care to make sure the door was locked as well as ordered EVA to make sure that nothing would bother me unless it was seriously important. I also double-checked and confirmed that the laser fencing would last until 0800 hours.

Checking the time, that gave me around a solid seven hours of sleep.

At least, that was what I hoped.

In reality, I was quick to get up after I found my mind drifting to the day.

My heart throbbed, and I felt the air cold and piercing. My feet carried me from end to end within the space of my abode. The numbed pain pressed against me and made every movement feel like going through rubber.

Never before did I feel more caged in my own room than I did now.

Giving up, I took to seating behind my desk and pulling up the data files. I looked into everything and flicked past plenty of words and lines. The brightness of the screen was alluring in of its own.

Contrasting with the unlit room, the blue wording over grey background made me feel connected to the insects drawn to lamps. It was in that moment of desperate search for distraction that I discovered something hidden within the depts of the Documents tab for the platform.

Command & Conquer 3: Tiberium Wars

….I stared at the program. Stared long and hard.

Then I laughed.

Not the humorous or ironical. Just an empty laugh. It came out in loud hacks, like I was forcing my lungs out.

When it finally stopped, I looked at the app on the screen….

And I tapped it.