It's Always So

8

EX-587 was the official name of whatever this disease was. Lance didn't know what it meant—Aslan didn't either, and the only ones who'd know would be the people part of the Research Group, who named it themselves.

The government decided that it would be better for the Annihilation Squad to kill all the people infected with EX-587, than to let them live through the torture that always happened after the disease was first detected.

Lance didn't know how it was determined that someone was sick or immune. He had to take general health checkups, give samples of his bodily fluids, before they determined that he was immune and sent him off. It wasn't surprising that he didn't know. After all, he had apparently bombed the intelligence test, so much so that he was forced to join the lowest squad.

Apparently though, even if immune, the soldiers always wore masks on their missions just in case—and, as he'd heard from one of Aslan's long-term soldiers, some people suddenly stopped being immune and they randomly caught the disease the next day.

That was why the squad was never the same set of soldiers—random people died off, and only those who were immune for life stayed alive.

"You and I, along with the veterans," Aslan began, "We might be immune for life. I'm surprised that we haven't started going crazy and dropping dead. Considering its already been half a year since you've started here. They either die in the first half of the year, or they're immune for life."

"How long have you been here?" Lance asked, and Aslan paused, as if he himself didn't know how long he had been fighting.

"Five years."

It was an insane thought, the fact that Aslan had been doing this for four more years than Lance. He didn't want to think about it—didn't want to let Aslan think about how long he had been killing people, so he changed the subject entirely.

"That's half of our age gap."

Aslan's eyebrows raised. He didn't seem to mind the topic change. "You're only 20?"

"What," Lance laughed, "Do I look 40 or something?"

"No—well, I don't really judge people's ages by their appearance. But, thinking back to how you first acted when you got here, it makes sense."

"How did I act?"

"Like a fucking idiot."

Lance, strangely enough, couldn't stop smiling.

It was just as strange that this was the most normal conversation he'd had with Aslan so far. They were just discussing ages, like normal people. It was usually just Aslan informing him of more stuff, Lance asking questions, them talking about how terrible and how unlucky and lucky they both were.

But Lance was a little glad. He didn't want his memories of Aslan to compose only of war stories. "How am I now?"

Surprisingly, Aslan gave him his own, miniature smile. "You've matured a lot."

"Why thank you, captain."

Aslan rolled his eyes.

-

idk. hopefully ur enjoying it?