Seven Years Ago, Battle of Logan’s Mount, Lenshire 4, Ergos System

“WE NEED A MEDIC!!!” a soldier screamed over the sounds of exploding grenades and bullets.

A young man, no older than twenty-six, if that, snapped his head up at the call. He then looked back down at a man, his stomach ripped open by shrapnel. His breathing was shallow and fast. The man would not last much longer. His stomach had been ripped open and the acids had burned away a lot of his gut. The medic, Staff Sergeant Michael Locklear, had given the man an injection to stop the pain, but that was all he could do. He stood up, and told the corporal next to the man to find the chaplain to read him his last rites. The corporal ran like a bat out of hell, and Locklear went to the line, to find his next patient. As he neared the top of the trench, a bullet hit him in the chest from a sniper. Locklear stood there, looking down at his blood-stained coat. As he looked, he didn’t feel it, and the battle died away as he watched the blood spread through his shirt and into his coat. The blood made the brown coat almost black. He was then hit again, this time in the stomach, and the battle returned to him.

Present Day, Shenedoah Valley, Verdas Colony, Riche System

Locklear sat up abruptly in bed. His face was dripping sweat, his black hair matted to his forehead. He ran a hand through it, the black hair short around the sides, but somewhat long at the top. It wasn’t quite military, but then neither was he, any more. He blinked away the remnants of the nightmare, looking out at the full moon through his window. He took a deep breath and let it out. He then spoke out to the room, “And so another sleepless night begins.” He got out of bed and walked to his small kitchen area. Kitchen was a gross overstatement. It consisted of a hotplate, a coldbox, a sink and small counter, a small table, and a solitary chair. He padded over to the coldbox and pulled out a carton of milk. He then went to the counter and picked up a small glass. He poured the milk and r