The Will To Live✔️

Chapter 28: Armitage Station

"Is it just me, or is this weird?" Ellis asked as they walked into the armory they had just been shown to by another nameless Private.

"Kind of," Greg said.

"I don't know, I think it makes sense," Izzy said as she walked straight over to an armor locker, pried it open, and started taking off her old armor. Greg joined her. He had to admit, he was eager for a brand new set of local armor.

"What about this makes sense? We get ordered to drive a hundred miles in the middle of an invasion by a zombie army and in the aftermath of an ongoing natural disaster, so that we four, who would have been three if Larsen hadn't randomly decided to come along, can form a task force to research said zombie army," Ellis replied as she began sorting through a case of weapons. Larsen did the same, silently and eagerly picking through the guns.

"I mean, it makes sense inasmuch as anything makes sense recently. He has a point: we have a crazy opportunity here," Izzy replied.

"She's right," Greg said. "Consider the Flood. Consider how dangerous they are based on just what we've seen. One of the most dangerous aspects of an enemy is a lack of knowledge about them. We don't know what they're fully capable of. We need to understand them, figure out more effective ways to kill them, or prevent this from happening. Gibson is right, we can't just react to everything that's happening, that's not what we do. We adapt, and overcome, and plan for tomorrow. And like he said, we're just the beginning of the task force. Plus, I imagine that we were probably all he could get. I guess it'd be hard to convince people to get that fatal illness they contracted taken care of while they're dealing with gunshot wounds."

Ellis grunted unhappily. "People do tend to focus on the most immediate threat. All right, fair enough. I just hope we get some more backup. He seems to have a lot of faith in you two."

"Yeah..." Greg murmured. He'd finished getting the armor on save for the helmet, and now he stared at his reflection in the darkened visor. "I'm not sure it's rational."

"I don't know, he might have a point," Larsen said. "You two have survived some improbable odds so far. Although I guess I'm not sure how much that reflects on me."

"Still want to find out?" Izzy asked.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he replied after a moment.

"Let's get on with it, then," Ellis said.

Greg nodded and pulled the helmet on. He ran a check of the suit's internal systems while he moved over to the weapon tables and started sorting. The armor felt good, at least. It all fit better and even had a kind of clean smell to it. As he sorted through the weapons, he marveled at the fact that he'd lost nearly everything he'd gathered on Polaris Island. He'd left his backpack behind at Adamant, given the notion that someone else could use it and the supplies he'd put into it. He'd left his shotgun in the Warthog, as it was seeing some serious wear and tear. And he was about to trade out his pistol. Honestly, all he had left was that black beanie, the uniform he'd found, and the combat knife. It made him think of how every seven years, every single cell in your body had been replaced with new cells, and so it begged the question, were you the same person?

It also made him consider the awesome power that a single human body could wield. The sheer amount of things that one person could get done, given time, determination, knowledge, skill, and some luck, was astounding.

He wondered if maybe Gibson had a point.

He wasn't so sure about himself and Izzy. Sure, they'd done a lot, and there was a lot more they could do, but were they indeed special?

Wasn't that the theory behind the Spartans? He'd never even really met a Spartan and he didn't know too much about them. He didn't even know where they had come from. But weren't they supposed to be special? Given the missions that no one else had a hope in hell of doing? Was he actually like that? Ultimately, Greg didn't want to linger on it too much. If he did believe in himself too much, he'd waltz into situations thinking he had protagonist armor, which wasn't even a real thing. Everyone was the protagonist of their own story, but everyone was subject to the whims and rules of the universe equally.