They'd always come at night. First, forming right above his eyeballs, squeezing into the little space in between his skin and the glossy surface. Then, escaping their flesh prison, cheerfully cascading down his face and onto his bedsheets. Tears, those warm, familiar tears, always accompanied by the soft wailing of the wind outside. How it played a sonata of sorrow and pain, just for him, the lone soloist's cries.

That night, however, the symphony seemed a tad off tune. A beat too loud, a volume too chaotic. Was it mother nature's wrath? A punishment for his poor musical performance? A loud booing, urging him to get off the stage, as no tears had managed to come.

No, it was something entirely different. Movements were stirring underneath the others' sheets as the obnoxious howling only grew louder and more violent. Andy tried calming himself down by producing the familiar picture from within his pillowcase, a new hiding spot.

Breathe in, breathe out. Look at the three of them. Breathe in, breathe out. See how that grin stretches on her silly, lovable face. Breathe in, breathe out. How that smirk gently plays about her lips, a stark contrast to her stern parting words. Breathe in, breathe out… How their three halos shine in unison, radiating pure glee and childlike joy through the paper.

A low rumbling shook the very ground beneath the hut.

The barracks sprung to life in an instant, anxious murmurs and annoyed grumblings of the awoken filling the air. There was no sign of stopping from the gathering storm outside, as it kept battering their poor hut into the ground. Just in case, Andy slid the picture into his shirt's chest pocket, not knowing what to expect. He stumbled out of bed and skipped along the cold wooden floor towards a window. They've always been taught that no matter the amount of enemy artillery cannons, reconnaissance is the real war winning tool. Reconnaissance and a keen eye, that is…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing could be seen outside, just a mishmash of monochrome shades, snowflakes being violently thrown around by the sharp wind and…

There was movement out there. Little dark blobs and shadows making their way through the snowstorm, dancing chaotically and bumping against one another. Late night training? Sure, the Head Lieutenant might've been cruel, but not cruel enough to organize a punishment this severe. Not in this weather. What was it, then? A patrol coming back from the wilderness? A lone wanderer? A pack of hungry houndbeasts? A…

A distant gunshot broke through the wind's desperate wailing. The whole hut jumped and went entirely silent. Just before the confused stupor could fully wash over the boys, another gunshot rang out from afar. And another.

"Night raid."

Someone whispered.

"Night raid!"

Someone yelled.

"NIGHT RAID! NIGHT RAID! ARM UP! WAKE THE OTHERS!"

A great commotion followed, as each and every one of the Privates launched themselves towards their messily disorganized piles of clothes, hastily throwing on just about anything thick enough to protect from the storm raging outside. Andy barely managed to pull a sweater over his head, before Droz jumped down from his upper bunk, already fully dressed and ready for action.

"C'mon! Goddamn this… You just couldn't have picked something with a zipper?! Goddamn preppie…"

Amidst his cursing, Droz kept tugging and pulling down at his sweater, trying to help the boy untangle himself. The loose threads and stretchy material kept dragging his halo down, bringing about a heap of uncomfortable burrowing in his head. All the others were already rushing outside, a gentle red hue illuminating the entire hut. Just as Andy managed to pull his arm through the heavy coat's sleeve, another few gunshots erupted somewhere nearby. Without thinking much, he tore the nightstand open and hurriedly pulled his father's .38 revolver from within, along a handful of bullets. He didn't even bother to check if it's loaded, knowing it was never once shot before in this country, hoping he wouldn't have a reason to do so, now.

"STOP FUCKING AROUND, COME ON!"

Droz was already waiting at the door, with a few of the remaining privates quickly rushing by and disappearing into the vast darkness of the night. Andy grabbed a bundle of keys from the wall, wanting to lock the hut just in case. They kept rattling in the howling gales, performing their own little chaotic dance and mocking the boy's inadequacy. His frustration only grew as "the right one" just wouldn't show up. The lock wouldn't turn. He tried again. Key after key, with his hands shaking and the raging tempest to keep him company. The wind violently tugging at his coat, blowing his halo aside and forcing his head to tilt. Loud, booming sirens erupted all around the outpost, making him drop the bundle.

"I can't… Droz, did you take the right keys? Droz? Droz, for Law's sake, did you take the-..."

The frail voice immediately faltered and succumbed to the wind's wailing as he turned towards the giant. Droz wasn't even looking at him and his pathetic attempt at locking the door. His gaze was aimed way beyond anything so earthbound.

Among the chaos of the gathering storm, among the wind's orchestra of sorrow, among the yelling and blaring sirens, a sound far greater than anything he's ever heard shook the ground. Above the highest of birch treetops, the tallest of observation towers, a force so fierce and grand, beyond any mortal comprehension, had painted the sky a deep shade of crimson. Bolts of lightning would light the welkin ablaze, forcing Terra's crust to tremble in fear at the triumphant power's might. Mother nature's twisted and cruel hand of justice, a feverish dream turned real.

The sky itself had been torn wide open, sending hordes upon hordes of black crystals and hellfire cascading onto the ground, as punishment for humanity's continuous abuse of nature's good will. The great caller of the winds, the force that could never be truly harnessed. Andy's eyes widened in pure terror. The raging sky lit up his gray irises, forcing a flash of bright red onto the glossy surface and tearing away any miniscule amounts of self worth he had left. Fate was no longer in his hands, not in the face of a full blown catastrophe. All he could do was lay down on the soft snow and wait for the release of death to come. Let the distant yells eventually die out, embrace the reaper's gentle caress and…

Another gunshot, coming from the trenches. The fruits of their labor, overlooked by that treacherous forest. Andy immediately felt himself regaining his consciousness, the pathetic trance vanishing. More and more gunfire was arising all around the outpost, in its desperate attempt of fending off the invisible enemy.

"Droz… Droz! DROZ!"

Only after an affectionate slap at full force had the giant woken from his hypnosis induced slumber. His unnaturally wild eyes kept running all around the place.

"Andy, this is…"

"I know! Catastrophe, I know!"

"They said they would pass by!"

"But they didn't, I know! Come on, there's shooting in the trenches, we need to…"

"We need to run! As far away, we need…"

He tried calming him down, clutching his lapels and giving him a thorough shake.

"No, you moron! Ricketts' still here!"

"I don't give a shit about Ricketts!"

The giant tried shoving his hands away, in a desperate attempt to free himself. They got into a small scuffle, grunting and panting.

"Isaiah's still here, somewhere!"

Droz stopped struggling in an instant.

"... Nuffer?"

"Yes, Nuffer! Nuffer, you idiot! He could be down in those tunnels!"

A stroke of realization flashed on his face. Without a word and without a rifle, the giant took a few wobbly steps. Hard, rubber soles hitting against the frozen snow, making barely audible thumps with every step. Their jog turned into a full on sprint as they ran for the trenches amidst the burning sky and rings of gunfire. Far, far away, an army of shadows was inching closer, approaching from the west, from within the treacherous birches. The two threw themselves into those familiar tunnels they once helped dig, this grand serpent eating away the icy ground. Follow the gunshots, not the ones behind their backs, but the ones in front. The loud barking of lead originium powder, growing ever so closer.

"Huff…"

"C'mon, Droz. Just a bit more."

"Drew, I can't…"

His massive frame leaned against a wooden support beam, slumped in half. They were in the middle of a dark corridor leading to a sharp turn.

"We can't. We can't stop, come on…"

A shadow grew long on the wooden railing at the corridor's end. Feral, heavy footsteps followed.

"Droz, please."

More huffing from the giant. The stomping only turned louder, like some wild animal being chased around its cage, only to accidentally make contact with some unsuspecting prey.

"Puff… My lungs…"

"Droz…"

His pleading turned desperate as the unseen creature's galloping finally filled their ears.

"Move! Move, for fuck's sake, move!"

A dark mass crossed the corner, slamming its full weight into the wooden railing. Their heads snapped towards the creature. Clad in dark, heavy robes, with thick, majestic horns adorning its masked hood. A quick shake of its head and a grunt was all it had to say. It turned its blank, empty face towards the two boys and immediately clutched its warblade a tad bit tighter.

"D-Droz."

Droz was silent. Andy couldn't even feel any emotions radiating off his halo, nothing. They were both frozen in fear.

The faceless sarkaz warrior raised its blade high above its head, before throwing its heavy body onward, each muscle tensing and preparing to kill. Like a well oiled machine made of rusty scraps found behind a garden shed, it kept closing the distance between its sharp blade and the two angels. It was so loud, all of it. The violent thumping, the blood ringing in their ears, the devil's shrieking, crude mockery of a battle cry…

A deafening gunshot echoed through the night, the loudest of them all. Along with the bullet, pieces of the devil's skull and brain went flying all across the corridor, painting the snow red. It fell to the ground with an empty thud, no last words, no goodbyes. They turned to their savior - their fallen guardian angel, already putting another round in his magnum's cylinder.

"Sergeant, sir…"

"You alright?"

Droz gave a breathy "Yes, sir" and fell on his back, eyes closed. Andy gave him a quick kick on the side and saluted the "Lieutenant". His heart was still beating rapidly as his mind shifted back into a state of harsh rationalism, knowing there was a much more important task at hand.

"Sir, there's gunshots coming from the west, it could be one of ours-"

"That's Private Moseley and Private Muller, both on patrol. Not a single goddamn catastrophe messenger in this hellhole, so now we've got shit like this happening."

His voice was harsh. Calculating. No men would be lost tonight, not on his watch. Without hesitation, the Sergeant lifted Droz up to his feet. The giant only let out a surprised "Huff?" and saluted, not knowing what else to do.

"... Both of them were my responsibility. So are you, now. You boys armed?"

Droz shook his head, Andy nodded, to the giant's surprise.

"Great. You two stay behind me, no matter what. Don't break formation, that's an order."

And with one last enthusiastic "Yes, sir!", they took off, delving deeper into the heart of those cold, soulless trenches. Two innocent souls and a coward, eager to pay for his past crimes with blood.