𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 || ℝ𝔼𝕎ℝ𝕀𝕋𝕋𝔼ℕ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕆ℝ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕊

✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃

He remembered the day he was named. Thunder echoed through the air, and a heavy storm took over the wasteland outside. He couldn't remember why, but he had sneaked out to watch it. An old wooden house could not muffle the wailing sky, nor the soft humming creeping up from some unknown place within the walls. He didn't want it to, either. The creaking floor below his feet followed him to the windowsill, where he jumped to reach his seat. He set his sight on the deep blue sky and the muddy ground on the streets, and time became meaningless. The humming turned into singing; the thunder brought lightning, and among the brown and blue of his surroundings, white appeared.

It would have been great if what followed could have kept that same amount of detail. Shadows lurked through the main door, pushing it open and running inside. The darker ones went past him, and the lighter ones stayed nearby. There were cries and yells, but he couldn't make out who they were. They could have been his own.

Among all the confusion, there was a moment that remained unchanged. The woman, whose blurry face he could still not decipher, had a kind and tender smile. She knelt to look him in the eyes, and somewhere in the raging sea contained within them, she found inspiration for his name. William—a standard, good-enough name, but not his own.

His lips parted to deny, to reject it and tell the woman that his name, which was erased from his mind, would stick with him. However, the eerie silence became overwhelming. There were no yells, no cries. The storm continued raging outside, but the singing had died. In its stead, a horrendous symphony of bullets appeared under his feet, shaking up the house to its core, and tearing down the little resistance he had left.

"MUM!"

The agonising cry of a child excelled at waking William up, though perhaps not in the way he would have preferred. His head slipped off someone's shoulder, and in no time, he smacked it against the table. His breaths picked up to match his pounding heart. A fire had overthrown the last seconds of his dream, leaving him begging to know more. Who had shouted? Had it been him? His mother, his family, had they died in the chaos of bullets and fire? Was that what had made him a soldier? An orphan with nowhere to go? A child whom nobody would even spare the minimal amount of sympathy for?

"Hey, hey, calm." George rubbed his back with calm motions, slowly driving William's attention back to reality. "Nasty nightmares, eh? We get those every now and then. Better not to give in to them. They love playing games with your brain."

A bitter taste infiltrated the back of his mouth at the thought of it. The storm, the song, and the cries, all a nightmare. He couldn't accept it. It had to be real. Otherwise, he would have to accept he still knew nothing about himself. That, out of desperation, his mind had given him the scraps of a foreign concept to every soldier—family.

"Had a good nap, sunshine?" asked Rowan, a wide grin playing across her face. "You were out like a light after eating. So sad, you're so cute when you're sleeping. And George was just whining about his shoulder going numb, too. What a pity."

Not knowing what to say, William glanced over at George. "Sorry about that."

George smiled at him, but wasn't given the time to say a thing. Mae claimed everyone's attention before he could. She dug into her pocket and took out a plain white envelope. Judging by everyone's reactions, it likely contained the orders. There was no other reason for most, even Henry, to straighten up and neutralise their faces.

Mae caught him staring and showed him a flickering smile. "Got here when you were asleep. Don't worry, nobody read them. We still have a few hours left, so we voted to let you rest a bit more." Somehow, even that little amount of consideration amazed William, though he couldn't meddle in such thoughts for long since his new leader carried on. "Anyhow, since we've got a birdie, I'll repeat how this goes. I read it, you listen. No comments, no jokes, no nothing until it's over. That attitude must be kept at all times during the mission. No bickering will be permitted and anyone who goes against the Sanctuary's or my own orders will be severely punished. A single mistake can kill any of us, and it will if we're not careful. Got it?" All soldiers nodded. "Birdie?"