REGIME (English Version)

Chapter 4 - Fire Hair

I was nervous but focused. It was my first mission as a soldier of the Regency. It wasn't a complicated operation, but I was informed by the platoon commander that there might be a rebel caravan in that region. As a rookie, I wasn't informed 100% of the entire mission objective, but I heard in passing that we were mainly after someone specific... We were twelve, three experienced soldiers and nine in training. Nothing could go wrong. It was my chance to prove my worth as a shooter.

"I'm noticing thermal readings about 100 meters ahead. Definitely rebels, sir," said the team's tracker, who was in the front seat of the jeep.

"All right. Men, prepare to counterattack if they react."

"Yes, sir!" My platoon and I in that jeep responded in unison to the mission leader's order. Shortly afterward, we arrived at the location. It was an abandoned village, apparently just another of the cities that had been taken. But there were recently extinguished fires scattered throughout the streets, and footprints of people, dogs, and horses marked the white dust of the ground. As we progressed through the city in search of rebels, we heard footsteps running in an alley behind us, so part of the team turned and walked toward the source of the noise.

"That way! They—"

Before the order was completed, a little girl jumping out of a window to escape the platoon was shot in the back with an H-68. It was a precise shot; she fell like a piece of beef escaping from a butcher's hook. She didn't have time to react, and barely felt any pain.

"45!" I found my colleague's conduct wrong. Our order was only to investigate the area and arrest possible rebels. There was no need to open fire, especially against a child.

"Didn't you hear the orders?! Why did you kill the child?!" The coward showed no reaction; I was in shock and very furious.

"More attention! And 69... less," the platoon leader spoke without expressing anything and reprimanded me. Deep down, I felt he was pleased with 45's inhuman action.

"Yes, sir." The agent responded. I was very upset that our leader approved the killing of a child, but I didn't argue. Seconds later, as we were leaving that alley, we were surprised by gunfire. I was grazed on the shoulder, which made me react and duck behind a dumpster.

"Kill those bastards!" The rebels were armed with pistols and old submachine guns. They ambushed us, and of the five soldiers in the alley, only the captain and I survived. The captain, on the other side of the alley protected by a lamppost, looked at me after firing shots at the rebels and said:

"69, call for reinforcements!" I did what the captain ordered, but I couldn't get in touch with the radio operator from the other team.

"He's not responding, sir!"

"Then shoot!"

I was bleeding heavily. I had seen hundreds of action movies, and until then, I thought a graze was like scraping your knee. But I was wrong; I could barely move my arm.

"What are you waiting for? Sh—" While shouting, the captain was hit by a shot in the chest, which made him lower his guard and leave him vulnerable. Once again, I had no reaction and just watched him bleed to death... I... enjoyed that.

"They're all gone."

"Mat!" I hear footsteps and voices approaching.

"Tom? Didn't I tell you to take care of team B?"

"Team B is safe, Mat! I heard all these shots and couldn't just stand still."

"Did you handle the other platoon? Are there still more guards?"

"No... we took care of it." I hear another voice interrupting the young voice that was speaking:

"It's 'took care of'... the boy didn't hit a single shot!"

"What matters is the intention, okay?" the boy replied.

"Thomas, you could have died. You risked the lives of everyone you were responsible for." As I listen to that dialogue between strangers, I begin to feel a strong dizziness, as if someone were stepping on my head. Damn it! It was the bleeding; I was so nervous that I forgot to staunch it... is that it? The girl who wanted to prove her worth is going to die from a graze given by someone who probably wasn't even trained?

Before I realized I had passed out, I woke up covered by a hand-woven sheet. I was without my uniform, barefoot, wearing only the blood-stained white blouse and black leggings that I wear under the uniform pants. My left sleeve was neatly folded, and there was a very sophisticated bandage on my arm. The hygiene of that place, even though abandoned, surprised me. Then I hear footsteps and quickly cover myself to pretend I was still asleep. Behind the thin cover, I see the silhouette of a young man; he seemed to be holding a tray and stopped to look at me for a while. Then he left the tray on the bench and left after giving a second look. After a while after he left and closed the door, I uncovered myself and ate the food he prepared for me. It wasn't that good, but my hunger seasoned that meal.