but one life to lose

[Aura]

They were set to collide. The two of them were hurtling towards each other, with the gun acting like a magnet pulling them together.

Bridie had something in her hands, a sweater. She brandished it at him, ready to entangle whatever part of him she could. He knew that well. He also knew that getting that wrapped around his neck would put him in a very bad position. He couldn’t let that happen. He needed to improvise.

Scott threw up one of his arms towards Bridie while he kept his other one reaching for the gun. Best case scenario, he would either catch her in the face or neck with his outstretched hand, and momentum would do the damage from there. Or at the very least, it might keep his neck from getting entangled.

Whatever the case, he only needed to make it until he got his hands on the gun. Then he would end it.

[Cicadan]

Scott’s wrist caught the hard bone of her cheek. It violently settled deep, until Bridie could taste the dizzy stars she could see. Her cheek molded like play-doh.

Her stumbling legs pushed forward. Knees, thighs, uselessly clattering over what might have been dusty earth, maybe Scott’s own prone body. Once, twice, she made useless sweeps with her bunched up sweater. No fleshy throat to be found, just air.

The sweater fell and she doubled down and her face rolled off Scott’s palm and down and wherever, and no, she couldn’t quite actually see anything out of the messy blur the world had become but she could still visualize a target and more importantly she could swipe at it.

She clawed for his throat with her flailing arms. A now familiar target, the soft flesh of the neck.

[Aura]

Scott felt Bridie’s hand reach his neck, and he panicked. His arm was now flailing at her face, striking and slapping at whatever he could reach in an attempt to get her away. He let out a strained shout, the best that he could do with Bridie’s hand grasping his neck the way it was.

Then opportunity struck. Scott got his fingers on the grip of the gun. He hurriedly wrapped them around it and swung it around into Bridie’s face. That provided the break that he needed to back away and get her hand off of his next, and now he had the advantage again. He was set to level his gun at her. It was almost over.

… But suddenly, a loud sound distracted Scott from their scuffle. Helicopters, it must have been. In his surprise, he directed words at his opponent rather than bullets.

“Did you hear that?”

[Cicadan]

Bridie’s palms tasted dirt. Her cheek tasted steel. She didn’t have time to cry out, there was no air in her lungs left anyways. Nothing left in her hands but the feeling of falling backwards. She tried to dizzily appraise the situation. She was staring down the barrel of a gun like it was an old friend.



… Time didn’t pass, fast. Really, she should have spent that moment in time thinking of something. Training, advice, anything she’d been taught, that she’d devoted herself to learning. She was a good American soldier, and supposedly better than being gunned down. No, instead, she imagined her own death. If she’d be a pretty or an ugly corpse. Those things tended to be ugly, eerie to contemplate. She’d used to not think much of death. She missed those times.

All in a moment.



In that next moment, Scott didn’t quite seem ready to shoot her. She was shocked by his sudden faltering. Almost didn’t notice the whirr of an engine chopping up the air above her.

“Wait.”

She saw them now, as they roared past.



“British Flags. What-??” She finally remembered she had arms, leveraged them into a proper seated position as she scrambled up. “What are the British doing here?”

[Aura]

“British?”

Scott spat out the word. What was an outside country doing here? No one was supposed to interfere with the Program, and for them to show the arrogance to do so was infuriating. At least Bridie seemed to be rightfully shocked by this turn of events as well. Maybe she was a little better than he had rated her. Just slightly.

Then came the announcement. They were looking for students to rescue? Scott scoffed. They had no right to get involved. This was not their business, and they didn’t seem to understand that.

From Scott’s indignance, an idea arose. He had a new plan as to how he could express his loyalty and usefulness to the country, one even better than just winning the Program. And he had a feeling that he would be able to reel Bridie into helping.

“So Bridie.” He asked her. “Do you want to do the work of a real patriot?”

[Cicadan]

The British had slaughtered American soldiers. With dirty, underhanded tactics dishonorable on the field of battle. With the roar of wicked horns and trumpets that might have been the soundtrack of videos that she’d been shown in class, that played now in her ears as blood rushed until she was deaf from the sheer incessant pound of her own heart. Pappy had told her, they were nasty, they were the very reason good American soldiers were born and raised and trained, that their grubby hands would besmirch any inch of American soil they touched.

She didn’t even think, no. The memories played automatically, repeated, as she snarled wispily under her breath.

“Didn’t need to ask. We can’t let them take us-! Scott-.. they’re going to hold our friends hostage, or torture us, or- or-..”

She shook her head.

“What do we do.”

[Aura]

“What do we do?” A smile started to spread across Scott’s lips. “He show them what happens when they try to stick their noses where they aren’t wanted.” He spoke with immense confidence, fully believing his own words.

They came from a tradition of victory, a tradition of power. They were meant to prevail. They always had, and they always will. This would just be another battle that would wind up in the history books, and Scott’s name would be immortalized among all the others who had earned their glory. With that in mind, he detailed his plans to Bridie.

“We’re going to get the upper hand. We’ll distract them, and then we’ll kill them.” His tone showed no wavering in his determination. “They won’t suspect us, so that gives us the element of surprise. Tactics are on our side.”

He held his gun comfortably. Admittedly Bridie wouldn’t be his first choice of allies, but she was devoted enough to the cause to be useful. And if she joined up with him, then that would provide numbers as well as surprise.

[Cicadan]

“I’ll distract them.” Her voice, likewise strong. She contemplated Scott’s smile with an empty mind, and didn’t echo it. Normally a smile was nice when shared, but her lips felt as heavy as the frown on them.

It was simple enough, really. The only correct thoughts to have: Scott was the combatant with superior training, his prowess would be crucial to winning the fight against the damnable British, she merely had to play her own role. This was what she was trained for. If nothing else, her body was a weapon all it’s own. Cadet’s basic knowledge.

“I’ll let them pretend they’ll rescue me,” she sneered smileless, almost giggled. She already knew, as an American, how this would go down. The British weren’t respectable enemies.

“You find vantage and I attack from inside, giving you the cover to strike.”

She nodded, slowly.

“Kill me if they have me at gunpoint. If you can spare the bullet, anyways. I’d rather die than let them take me out themselves.”

Had to be practical about these kinds of considerations.

[Aura]

Perfect. Bridie was ready to go along with the plan. This would be a glorious moment once their mission was accomplished.

“Excellent. That’s the spirit.” His grin was unflinching. “Go in there and pretend to be helpless, and I’ll open fire. Feel free to use that blade of yours once I’m shooting, too. It would probably look good in their necks.”

He hoped that she remembered to pick up her weapon before she left to play the distraction. He wanted this mission to play out absolutely perfectly, and he would be greatly displeased if anyone else’s incompetence were to get in the way of his momentous victory.

“So we have a plan then. You bait them out, and I’ll clean them up. Is that right?”

[Cicadan]

She’d almost forgotten, actually. The blade was sitting there on the dusty ground, abandoned. Not for long.

Once more, she toyed with the familiar weight. Lighter than a gun, more pleasant on her wrist as she gently bobbed and weaved it with testing motions.

Her free hand extended into a crisp salute.

“Understood.” There was nothing left to understand, except, her duty.

-----






“Civvy on three, sir. Hugging the fence overlooking the sea, melee weapon.”

She trailed in the taller man’s wake, her shoulder against his forearm. She didn’t look him in the eye.

“Cabbie rolled over them at o’.. fourteen hundred,” one man boredly recanted, looking her over while she avoided his eye stubbornly. ”No sign of the Caucasian male she was engaged against?”

“No sir.”

Her hand shifted, tighter, around the handle of her blade.

”Can you get her to..-?” One soldier gestured at her. ”The weapon, is she refusing to let go of the weapon?”

Unlike her scared, pathetic face she didn’t have to fake the tightness of the grip on her weapon.

”No sir.”

She’d lash out if a single finger got too close to her blade.

”Must be scared out of her mind. Has she spoken at all?”

They were the enemy. She glanced up a ways, up the side of a hill, a lonely hut.

”... Nh’, not at all sir. Came up whimpering for me to help, been silent since.”

”Jesus.”

She was ready.

[Aura]

Scott skulked around the old hut, hiding among bushes to stay out of sight of the intruders. He poked his head up only occasionally, when he thought it would be safe, and even then only for a moment.

Bridie was doing her job well. They didn’t seem to be suspicious of her, which meant that she was doing an effective job of being a decoy. She just needed to not break character, and things would be fine.

Scott could almost laugh at their stupidity, being outmaneuvered by a couple of teenagers. But of course, that also spoke for the brilliance of his tactics, making a move against an opposing force despite being underequipped and outmanned. It was a perfect tale of triumph. The General would be proud to hear it.

He continued to lie in wait as Bridie did her job. Any moment now, it would be the time to strike.

[Cicadan]

She knew Scott would do his job. Even if she fell on this day, this battle would be won by America.

”She’s just standing there. Psych talked about this- it’s, ah, dissociation.”

The day was always won by America. It was that simple.

”Kind of hell do they put these kids though…? Look at her, Simmons. She’s a bloody kid!”

America’s enemies didn’t know. The devotion, the dedication, the training. That was a secret for Bridie, shared only with the spirit of the men and women who’d shed blood for her, for their heritage.

”I don’t understand it either, just… we do our job, we get out. Leave the fixing to the experts.” He looked bothered.

Not like she cared.

There wasn’t much time left for thinking. She was right next to the soft flank of this man next to her, his flak vest not quite draped for full body coverage. She could feel his heartbeat, sense it’s impending end.

“If we can’t find the other target we get this one on the helicopter.”

She willed her final wishes into being. While she remembered them.

”Rendezvous with Shanklin Group, on seven.”

She hoped Mom and Dad would move on. That Pappy and Grandma would have another fifty years of love and devotion.

”Scales reports they’re finding blokes buried in the walls, they’ll need backup.”

She hoped Clay wouldn’t be stupid. He’d hide, wait for American troops to clear the ground. He’d be rescued.

He’d live a long life without her. He’d never forget her voice.

”Hand me the damn binoculars, you couldn’t see the aft end of a barn if it had neon signs on the-”



She heard her own voice. A battlecry, then, chaos.

[Aura]

Bridie’s cry was Scott’s signal to attack. He emerged from the bushes with his weapon in hand, and pointed it towards his enemies. He smiled at the thought of putting them all down before he pulled the trigger.

The gun sprayed bullets into the air, a wild volley of blazing hot lead raining down onto the area below. Scott’s eyes were intensely focused on the scene, waiting to see them fall.

And all the while, he was proud. This was the moment that he was born for, the moment that would define who he was. After this, there would be no doubt that he was the finest that the General could ask for.

[Cicadan]

“Enemy engaged, thirty degrees on our flank!”

“Defensive positions- fuckin-!”

They surrounded her, training 5.56 onto her vitals as she continued to menace, growl, howl with violent intent.

”Get a hold- damn bitch! Stand down!”

More gunshots erupting in the air. Not a man dropped. The girl tried to lunge, her blade uselessly cleaving air. They backed off, one, two steps.

Surged forward, denying her space. Her back was against fence that hooked against the softness of her dress, barbs of rotten steel spooling against her slowly bloodied skin.

”Yankee’s go-! Fuck, back, back!”

One soldier jumped, dancing for the shrapnel of dust that exploded near his feet.

She tried to charge into the gap he left. Her kama weakly slapped a bayonet across the wrist. Tension held, as Bridie shouted in the language they all understood. Begging something incomprehensible, for the demise of the very men trying to rescue her.

“Girl’s bloody mad! Sh- oi, down!”

More shouting. Gunfire back up the hill, at the hidden assailant now, every shot traded in kind.

She struggled still, even as she was ignored. She tried to lunge, thrash against the abstraction of flesh and body she hated.

“She’s all over my- fuckin’ hell, SImmons, look-!”

She was shot, gunned down.

“-.. Christ, I had no fuckin’ choice, she was-!”

She died an American.

[F20: Deceased]

[Aura]

Scott kept firing. They had caught them off guard. They were winning. In the heat of battle, he took notice of the weapons that the soldiers were carrying with great anticipation. Once they were dealt with, then the spoils would be handed over to himself and Bridie, and they would be able to move on with their little crusade.

Once they reached that point, there would be no stopping them. They would have the firepower, and they would have the devotion to duty necessary to finish the job. They would get rid of the invaders as well as any who were foolish enough to work with them, and they would be rewarded for their work.

But something wasn’t going right. The enemies weren’t going down. They were alive and alert. This wasn’t how Scott’s past few kills had gone. They should be dead already! His frustration grew as he continued to fire upon them. He wouldn’t let them make a mockery of him by continuing to survive. They would be shot down by his hand.

But they weren’t, and they shot back. And their aim was a lot better.

Scott felt the first few bullets hit, triggering the realization that he had lost. He refused to accept it. He couldn’t be defeated, no matter what. But the barrage didn’t care whether or not he could admit defeat, as the bullets pierced through him until his body stopped responding to his movements. He crumpled to the ground at the top of the hill.

There would be no victory for Scott. No glory, no praise, and no celebration. The only thing he accomplished in the Program was pointless death, with his own as the grand finale.

M04: Deceased



“Holy shit, the hell are they doing to these kids?”

“I don’t know, but we don’t have time to waste now. Stay on guard.”

“But… they’re just kids, mate…”

“I know, O’Reilly. Let’s just try to save the ones we can.”