The Lieutenant

001

//SCARLETT'S POV\\ (she is 12 at this moment)

"You pathetic excuse of a soldier! I said 500 press ups not 5!" McGull screeched into my ear as he observed my press ups.

"Yes sir." I replied, keeping my face blank. 456.

"Stand up girl." He spat, keeping his shoes planted into the loose dirt. I smoothly jumped up from my press-up position, with my hands behind my back, I stood as straight as I could go.

"What was that? Did I just see emotion?!" He accused, circling my short 5,6" figure.

"No sir!" I replied, my face untouched by emotion. This resulted me getting a punch to the face. I merely just turned my head and spat blood onto the floor.

"Do not lie to me!" He shrieks, connecting his knuckles with my face again. Not a flinch was given to this. Which enraged him even more.

Right hook to the gut. Yet not a thin changed in my stony expression.

"Good soldier." He muttered before stalking off back into his tent. I watched him go before dropping down and restarting my 500 press ups.

A few wolf whistles pierced the air as I turned my head towards the sound, despite my hair falling over my face. Let me guess, it's that sexist pig known as Luke Jackson.

"Hey Scar, you ready to go cook us some lunch yet? The kitchens just over there." His Royal smirkiness said as he waltzed right up next to my sweating figure.

Luke HAPPENS to be McGull's favourite. What a coincident right?

I ignored him as I continued concentrating on finishing my 500 press ups, sweat beading in the morning sun.

From my flower heigh position I examined the large open field we had pitched on, it was a bold patch in miles of forest, a favourite spot for the military.

Remote and desolate.

The field was littered with green tents, only just head height for an average man. One poking out from behind all the dull twin tents was a bright Crimson one.... The commander's tent.

Where there was once bright colourful flowers,there was only mud trodden pathways where countless regiments of men had marched over.

Bringing my concentration back to Luke, I expected him to hound me further, but, instead, he did something that really surprised me, and walked away.

WHOA WHOA WHOA! He just walked away! Without an battle! Who the hell is this imposter wearing Luke's skin?!

I asked mentally, as I watched him walk away in the corner of my eye with a grim frown.

*2 years later*

"Anderson, you are requested in the Sergeant's tent." Private Zachary Tuner briefed me before hurrying back to the Colonel's tent with an scowl perched on his broad ugly features.

What the hell does he want now?!

I inwardly moaned as I masked my emotions and set off towards McGull's tent. His tent, unlike all the others, was as large as a circus tent, rimmed with Crimson lining.

Always for the theatrics is my commander.

I tossed the Crimson curtain aside, with little effort.

Heavier than it looks!

Before I could even get a word into the burly black haired man perched on his chair with a look of pure disgust etched over his expression as he regarded my sweaty figure.