Blood On Our Hands (Red vs Blue)

No Just No

Nevada looked down at her hands. Red covered them, soaked them. Blood. Blood was everywhere. Bodies littered the floor like fallen leaves. The plain in front of her was woodland, all trees were either dead or dying, and blood ran like rivers. As she looked up, the feet of a man came into view, then is torso. Then finally his face.

She jolted awake, a cold sweat going down her back. She looked down at her hands, half expecting them to be exactly like they were in the nightmare. But, thank goodness, they weren't. Just her normal, scarred hands. The nightmare felt... so real. Like it actually happened. But she knew it didn't. It just came in her imagination, a figment of the reality they all faced. Yet, she knew the reason behind it. Behind the nightmare.

It was her own fault that she let her mind wander without putting up any barricades. Her own fault that she went to a topic that she probably shouldn't have. She began to think of all the lives she's stolen away, the countless families that she has ripped apart. The friendships and bonds that were lost. The grief the loved onesmust have went through. And for what? Why did all this happen? Was it truly worth it to take all those lives?

She couldn't help the families of those taken from them. Couldn't bring them back. Couldn't get their blood off her hands. It would stay with her until she hit the grave. Do Freelancers even get graves? She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. If she didn't, they'd comsume her, swallow her whole. It was better to forget, than to remember and freeze about it. She had to move on, keep trudging forward until she was entirely forced to stop. And her stop would be her death.

"Dammit, Nevada, stop going that direction," She chastised herself. Those thoughts would get her no where quickly. She sat up, her back popping with every movement. She guessed she needed that after six and a half years of sleeping. She turned her head to look at the small alarm clock. It read 2:01 a.m. She sighed and yawned soon after. Zeta materialized in front of her. He emitted a light that illumminated Nevada, and a bit of the surrounding area. "You okay? You seem... troubled," Zeta said. Nevada nodded. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream," She responded. Zeta nodded. "I know... I saw it," He said.

Nevada looked at him curiously before rememering that he had access to all her thoughts, all her dreams. They were connected, anyways. Nevada sighed as she and Zeta stred at each other. "Get some sleep," Zeta ordered before he vanished. She smiled, and laid back down. Maybe she could avoid any dreams this time around.

It was not peaceful in the slightest.

This time the dream consisted of a environment, life surrounding her. Nevada stood beside a tree, the emerald leaves drifting around her, whishing in the breeze. She was watching something on the horizon. Then, suddenly, it was like a virus hit, killing everything around her.

She looked down at her hands. It looked like they were composed of corrupted data. Then she fell apart, and disappeared from the face of the plain.

She jumped awake, not knowing what the dream meant, or why these dreams were haunting her. Both of the dreams felt so... Real. Like all of it happened. She couldn't shake the feeling that settled in the pit of her gut, couldn't forget any moment in both dreams. What do they mean? Why are they happening?

The alarm clock sounded, signaling that it was seven thirty now. Iowa stirred across the room, and clearly said "Coffee..." Nevada smiled, trying to push the dreams out of her mind, out of her memory. "You okay over there?" Nevada said, standing from her bed, knees popping from the effort. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just want coffee," Iowa responded lazily, slowly sitting up. Nevada smiled and stretched. After their fight with the other Freelancers and got out of their armor, they came back to find all their possessions stacked beside the door, waiting for them to put them back in their original places.