War of Elysium

Chapter Three: The Mack

        Rifle, check. Side arm, check. Ammo, low. She would have to place a requisition when they got back home. 
The rest of the checks were meaningless; supplies, water and other shit she might need. It even included her thermal layers, as if she was ever going to take them off.

Why is it always fucking Siberia, or Antarctica or Alaska? Just once she wanted a beach side mission. Wear a little less and get a tan while she saves lives. Hell, maybe even go to the beach without a mission. Just relax... get some drinks, have some laughs. 
Sixteen, seventeen and... Eighteen. Eighteen rounds for Hou Yi, her rifle. That was that, she was packed and ready to leave.

She considered whether she should get her things onto the shuttle now or if she should go find Ade first. "Lara?" Garrison called out.
"Here sir!" She responded, raising a hand. She quickly dropped it back down when she realised the biting cold outside of her small campfire. Clumsy thumps heralded Garrison as he shifted his great mass with an appropriate lack of dexterity. His goal wasn't Lara but her fire. He lumbered with embarrassing speed with his eyes locked on the warmth.
"Cold, sir?" Lara teased as she shifted to let him closer to the fire.
"It's my old skin... Much too thin for this kind of climate. Not like you young pups." He complained. The snow rushed away and the dust unsettled as he dropped to the floor. "More suited for retirement in the Maldives then, sir?" Lara joked. Garrison cackled at the idea. Retirement was a luxury no member of Raptor squad had ever been bestowed, though hope was there that Garrison - at his advanced age - could be the first.
"Did you speak to our new recruit?" Garrison asked.
"Yes, sir. She's about as well as you can expect. We spoke around sundown but I let her get some rest." Lara said.
He looked grimly into the fire and scratched bristled beard. "We have to be careful with her. She isn't like us, she still has hope." His smile picked up and Lara could see him trying to think of a joke to cheer up the mood. She took the burden unto herself. "Keep her away from Reese then, that man'll send her suicidal." She joked. Garrison tried to laugh, though it wasn't nearly as gregarious as before.
"That brother of yours truly has developed a talent for misery over the past few years. Not that I blame him, of course. A lesser man wouldn't have made it through half of what he has been put through." He agreed. "She is a brave woman to stand by him."

"Yes... She is." A man responded from behind the two. She didn't need to turn to see who it was. There was only one man who made no sound as he walked.
"Hey, Reese." She said. "We were just talking about you. All bad things of course."
"I'm sure." Reese quipped. "Sir, a message for you." Garrison stood to tower above Reese as he grabbed a tablet from him. He shone a warm smile to him and Reese nodded. 
"Are we off?" Lara asked with a mix of dread and hope.
"It would seem we are, sergeant. Grab ms. Tempish. Reese drag Iris away from whatever poor sap she's wasting our medical supplies on. Meet at Daphi in ten." He ordered.
"Sir!" They both responded as they headed off in their own directions. 

        Cold. It was so fucking cold. There were no thoughts going through her mind just a series of expletives and slurs with one or two prayers for the downfall of 'whoever put me in this fucking hellhole in the first place'. Ade, where was she? Not in the medic tents, not by the fire pit or food hall. Where could she be?
"Kid?" Reese's voice rang out from her wrist band.
"Yup?" She responded through gritted teeth.
"You found her yet?" He asked.
"Nope, still looking." She shortly answered. Her tone must have been more aggressive than she had thought by Reese's response.
"Enjoying the cold hey kid?" He asked through stifled laughter.
"Born for this, sir." She lied.
He laughed. "Nice and warm here, Daphi's got the heaters on full."
"Respectfully, lieutenant, go fuck yourself" She responded with the slightest twinge of humour, but mostly annoyance. She shut her comms down and continued her search. 

A thought dawned on Lara. The grave. Of course, the child was still in mourning. The loss of a father was a feeling Lara knew well, and yet she had been so far removed that the thought hadn't even been a whisper. She marched onward. It wasn't far - just over the hill.
Her boots crunched atop the quickly freezing mud, her overcoat whipped in the breeze. She had never been so grateful for her mask as it protected her nose and cheeks from the stabbing winds.