Tanks rolled in the camp. The scene was so surreal that I can’t even process it. Soldiers walked behind them. They were our allies, our fellow countrymen. Seeing them, however, did not make us jump for glee. In fact, quite the opposite, our hackles were raised like dogs. The inhumanity we faced, the indignities inflicted on us, and they were the ones who did not face punishment.

We had already learned that we were punished for being members of “revolutionary parties”.

But we served the country with our heads held up high! How could we be betrayed like this? Rather than to die honorably in the front, we were ignominiously stabbed in the back by our brethren, by our homeland.

The ones who survived were those who accepted the new reign. They lied and cheated to get their way. Pretending to be guiltless, they acted as though justice belonged to them. Not only that, but the whole population renounced us. We had learned this as newcomers came by. They conveyed to us the information that everyone saw us as outsiders.

And so, the ones left standing were the yes-men.

Sometimes, even they were indiscriminately targeted, but we despised them all the same. Even so, I’m sure this hate is irrational. If I were to have their unlimited power, I’d abuse it, indulging in my powers, but I hate them still. It is hypocrisy. I know I’d become like them if I were them and I know it’s irrational to despise them for it. But to let this atrocity slide just because of that is unforgivable!

I wanted to shoot them even though I could not blame them. In fact, I had the chance to do so. As we left the camp, I found an abandoned gun on the road. There were still bullets left in it. A guard must have dropped it while he was fleeing the camp. Those bastards, we all knew they were going to run for the hills, having heard of the rumors of the war ending, but we did not get the chance for our retribution.

However.

This gun on the road was still loaded. Bullets were in the chamber. I could shoot them yet what good would come of that? I’d jeopardize everyone else just because of my contempt? That’s disgustingly selfish.

Even so, I didn’t.

And even now, I am unsure if I regret it or not.

But that’s a lie. Having time to reflect, it was not contempt but fear that kept me alive.

I let the memory disappear. Thinking too much about and I’d end up even worse off. Even so, the phantom of the past haunts me. I stare at the wall. I don’t want to remember any of it but I could be worse off.

There are worse memories to recall.

The sludge of the unconscious is a very hideous thing. Nightmares destroy me. Everytime I have them, and that’s nearly everyday, I poison myself. The things I saw, the things I wept over, the things I felt, all of them are weights I must bear because of my cowardice.

“Why hello there, new leader.” A new voice calls to me and the shadows of the past draw away.

I turn to a handsome face. His smile is quite dazzling and his feature well-set. He, too, is quite young. College-age, I’d guess. However, he probably went through the same procedure as I did and as Nikolai did. He is probably quite old.

“Hello?” he repeats himself, noticing my apparent silence.

“Order 227,” I say to confirm my suspicions.

He flinches and that is all I need from him.

“So you too were a soldier from that era.”

“Indeed. Do you wish to speak of it?”

“No.” Without hesitation, I immediately answer. Talking of the past only agitates the specter of regret.

“Do you really think so? In our day and age, the past is becoming so totally irrelevant that we are forgetting it. If we do not talk about it, how can we ever say, ‘Never again’? How could we ever forget all that died in those dreadful camps? That is a dishonor to all who died. To forget is to kill them and cast them aside.”

“I’ve been cast aside my whole life. It matters not if we forget the rest. They are gone. We are not. Rather than the past, should we not talk about the present? For instance, that I am arrested and you are not.”

“You’re just as our sources said,” he laughs. He extends his hand through the bars. “The name is Chekyll.”

I slap it away. “Quit with the pretenses! If you want me to think we’re equals with just a single handshake, you’re sorely mistaken. I hate bastards who pretend to be kind the most.”

He turns aside, pulling his arm from the bars. Heh, of course, he would. That’s to hide the disgusted expression he has. I watch his back move to a locker. He opens it up and on the hook are a set of something. I can’t tell with his back obscuring it but then I hear a jangle. Hah, so he’s going to wave freedom in front of my face. It was a disgusting tactic but an effective one. Interrogators showed that symbol of hope. They told you that confessing your sins would be the correct decision, that the state would free you if you accepted their admonishment.

Just like that, I was played for a fool.

Not again.

Even if he holds the key to my freedom, I will not give in.

When he turns around, I expect a sadistic expression but instead he gives a bright smile. I hear the door unlock.

“What are you trying to do?” My eyes sharpen. I search for ill intent but see none. Either, he is the world’s most excellent actor or he’s unconditionally freeing me.

“Freeing you?” He makes an amused face. “It’s hard to have a conversation with you in the cell.”

“You are either a saint or swine.”

“Casting pearls to swine?” he laughs at his own joke. “No, I don’t believe that you are a pig. I do think that somewhere within you is the hope that life is not all gloom and betrayal. And so, I will cast my lot on that bet.”

“You’re trying to save me?!” I shout. “I don’t need any damn saving. I’m fine on my own. I can rot on my own perfectly fine. I’ve done it for years. I don’t need any faith or hope. It’s already been drained, and to wish for more is impossible. Not to mention, I’ve given up on hope. That ephemeral wish always betrays you at the last second.”

“I’ll agree with you there, except for one point. To hope without action is to despair, but to act without hope is also to despair.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for these last few years?!” I’m tempted to strangle him but that would be brash. I don’t know if he has that torturous gun that girl used.

“I see that you’re quite energetic. Why don’t we go for a walk? I can show you the complex so that you can make yourself quite at home here.”

“Home at a terrorist’s base?” I retort. “Even I have my pride as a soldier. I will not abet the enemy, especially when you bastards have blown up buildings and harmed countless civilian lives.”

“I am a soldier as well.” He makes a mocking smile. “But I’m certain you wouldn’t understand my code of honor. But how can you speak of honor when you abandoned yours? Your dignity has all been lost. You have nothing to strive for nor hope for. Why cling onto honor? It’s quite ridiculous to hope for that when you yourself have abandoned hope.”

“Hope is different from honor. Honor is found in the actions of what I do and say--”

“And what honor do you have.” Chekyll cuts me off short. His sincere smile has disappeared. “You have done nothing once you got home but wallow in your own filth. Do not speak of honor lightly.”

“The cat’s finally outta the bag!” I declare. “This is your true nature.”

“No. It is just that I cannot stand hypocrisy.”

“What greater hypocrisy is there than to proclaim lofty goals as though they are just? It’s nothing more than self-righteousness.”

“And without any sense of justice, people cannot act!” His voice becomes louder and stronger, as though he is entering a strange fervor. “We have seen what the government has done. The people tolerate it but not us old dogs. We remember the diservice they have done to us. Treat us like shit and then wipe us under the rug. And now, with a new, fresh generation, they hope to forget the old. Everyone has moved on, except for those who remember. The news blares its new problems but we cannot forget our own history. That would be a disservice to all who died in the war.”

“This is why I cannot take you damn bastards seriously. Indeed, we are forgotten. I’ll admit that. In fact, it is why I despise our government. But the fact remains that if we were to recall our dreadful past, the state would be ruined. Nobody wants to remember the crimes committed. People want a fresh start. That is why I had decided to give up on everything and to die just like that.”

“No, it’s you I cannot understand. You have no honor to speak of! Rather than fighting the fate you were given, you simply accept it. They have torn your dignity to shreds.”

“My honor is mine and mine alone. It was my choice. I let the youngest generation decide their fates. I cannot dictate it for them.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

We both clashed but remained in our positions. This is politics. Rather than to push the issue, I decide to cast it aside. “Indeed.”

“And now you’re just avoiding the topic.”

“Indeed,” I say without any hint of irony. “I have always been a coward. Running away from problems is what kept me alive. There is no point in denying that. That is why I fantasize about crushing everything. I revel in destruction.” Here, I make a sardonic grin. “But, funnily enough, I destroy only myself and no one else.”

“Destruction?! To destroy everything just to lay dust to it is as pointless as not resisting it. We need to establish a new order.”

“You and I are both fools for hoping for anything to come of it, of either establishing a new government or of destroying the old one.”

“Once again, this is where I beg to differ. Accepting my fate is the greatest insult I could ever inflict on myself. I refuse to accept it. I will change myself and doggedly fight it to the bitter end. That way, I can die a man.”

“Or die embittered.”

“If I am to die embittered, let it be at the very end and not the very beginning, as you have.”

“You’re not wrong,” I laugh, “but bitterness at the end is far worse than bitterness at the beginning. All that work and toil disappears. It’s nothing. All your life has led up to a smokescreen. Not even being betrayed by Nikolai could compare to the feeling of utter hopelessness in that moment when everything breaks apart.”

“Not everything breaks apart. You have your legacy that people will speak of and it will be remembered.”

“Oh really? It only took fifty years for this war to be wiped from the public’s eyes. There is no reason to believe in something so foolish!”

“That is because we let ourselves forget. We could not bear to remember the scars that our own country inflicted on its people. It was so disgraceful it could not help but be forgotten. That is why we must remember. We’ll make them remember.”

“How?” I laugh. “How can you do something like that when you yourself have seen just how quickly people forget.”

“The government is the ripe for the taking. The people have a long list of grievances but there is no redress. In this instability, we shall be the heroes that storm the capital.”

“Heroes? More like villains. The people utterly despise you. You claim to fight for them but you end up taking civilian lives in the process. That sort of blind justice is what I despise the most. Even hypocrisy is better because it’s acknowledge, but to pretend as though it’s fair and right is just too pathetic.” I make a mocking grin. “It is just like our current generation but I am too old to reproach them.”

“You were too old. You are young now. Why don’t you join me?”

“This is going nowhere,” I sigh. “However, your second-in-command does support me. Won’t you step down for her?”

“If he does do something as pathetic as that, then even I would use the Punisher on him,” a female voice speaks out.

“Ah speak of the devil, you’re here,” I say.

She glares at me. “You weren’t hoping to take the easy way out, now were you. Hoping that my beauty might seduce him, hmmm?”

“Who do you take me for?” I feign indignation before trashing it. “Of course, I was!”

“See, Mia, this is why I will never surrender my position to this bastard.”

“That may be so but I picked him.” Her eyes go frigid. “And he won’t go down without a fight.”

Chekyll crosses his arm. “Challenge accepted.”

“Wait a minute, that’s under the assumption that I want his position.”

“You don’t?” Mia asks with suspicion. “But just the other day, you said yes. Perhaps, you wanted to play me for a fool?” Anger hot as coals flares in her eyes.

I scoff. “Of course not, it’s just that I should be the one saying that. Your words were that you would persuade him. Clearly, he is not persuaded.”

Suddenly, her anger snaps and explodes like an inferno. She swiftly approaches Chekyll and chokes him by the collar. “Did I not tell you to pick fights with our new leader? Or are you stupid?! We might lose a diamond in the rough because of you. I gave you all the reasons and you accepted them, but still you back out now. Goddamn, I should just shoot you myself.”

Something soft shatters in Chekyll’s eyes. Even when he was arguing with me, there was still something gentle and sincere about the man. Now, it breaks. There is only hardness. His words are lacking warmth, something so uncharacteristic of the man. “Stop choking me.”

Faced with his 180 turn in personality, she obeys. The fury in her eyes dissipates in the stale winter of his eyes.

He pushes his advance. “Now, you told me he would serve our causes and that he was a zealot, but I see nothing of the sort in him, wouldn’t you agree? The reports you sent me were embellished or downright lies. There is nothing but a pitiless emptiness in him.” Suddenly, he pauses and his face flashes with realization. “Ah, that is the reason you want him. You feel a kinship with him. After all, in a sense, you are just as empty as he is.”

Mia recoils. His words are a slap in the face. She stands there shocked but her reaction does not deter Chekyll. As though enumerating her list of crimes, he spelled out every reason for her:

“Now, as for the reason why I reject him. Here they are. A) He is broken and believes nothing can change. B) His honor is dead. C) I can only see the path of self-destruction if he becomes our leader. For these reasons, I will veto your support.”

There is no response from Mia. Her shoulders go slack, her face goes to the floor, and though I can’t see, I’m sure her eyes go blank. Her passion is snuffed out. Chekyll destroys her with his words alone and I can see why he is the leader. He is the perfect orator, charismatic but authoritative. When he wants to crush someone, he will show no mercy. This would be the perfect chance to flee. They don’t want me; I don’t want them. End of deal.

Yet when a man sees a lady cry, he feels a sense of grief. Even my ears couldn’t bear watching a youngster’s dreams being cut down by an old cynic.

“You’re going too far,” I speak out. “Even if she makes a mistake, it is best to let her down gently lest you crush them. Flowers bloom under sunshine, not storms.”

“But without rain, a flower cannot live,” he snaps back. “And this has zero relevance to you. Why bother to interfere?”

“Because I personally hate you?” I say nonchalantly. “And also because it’s disgusting to see someone with a higher position of authority abuse their powers on their subordinates. Didn’t you have enough of that as a soldier?”

“This isn’t abuse. I’m simply telling her the facts. We don’t need fools in this damn business.” He turns to Mia. “Now, use the Punisher on him. I’ll personally shoot him so as to spare you any additional suffering, Mia.”

But Mia doesn’t respond. “Mia?”

“Don’t you think she’s had enough of you?” I tell him.

“This is an order. Obey.” In that instant, his eyes turn gelid and I realize something. He is drunk on power. As a soldier, the high command always gave us unreasonable demands yet he’s doing the same. It’s probably his way to taking it out on people.

“You disgust me,” I snarl. “You were once a soldier so you know how unreasonable our superiors could be. But despite that, what are you doing now asking a young girl to let a murder happen?!”

“Can it!” he barks at me. “I’m sure you’ve already realized this but she has killed before. It’s part of her job. Something as small as you makes no difference on her conscience. We fight for justice, isn’t that right.” It’s a fact, not a question. He turns to her to see her response but her eyes are still to the floor.

In that moment, my vexation explodes. I don’t care about the consequences; I sprint to tackle him.

But he abruptly drops to the floor convulsing.

I turn to Mia. Her head is up and I can see her eyes. They’re a bright-red scarlet swirling with rage. In that moment, I freeze. She looks like a beast. Her face is all scrunched up with malice. With violent steps, her feet thud against the floor and like a titan, she stands over Chekyll. She grabs him but he continues to spasm. The man is screaming and spitting in her face but she is undeterred. She grabs at the gun hanging from his holster and then drops him. When he falls, she kicks him. Even my body could feel that one. She aims directly for his groin.

He shrieks louder.

As though to end his misery, she aims her gun at his forehead and finally I unfreeze. Her black rage had paralyzed me until that moment.

My legs sprint towards her but I don’t make it in time.

The bullet fires.

The poor bastard dies.

Once again, too late, too sorry. She turns to me with the gun in hand. It’s pointed downward but given her emotional state right now, I couldn’t be certain if I would be shot next.

And as though emptiness is filled, her once vacant stare becomes vibrant. She bows to me. “Welcome, master.”

Silence fills the room.

“Glad to be here, my dear servant,” I finally say, deciding to play along. “But did I ever give you the order to kill?” I glare at her.

“You weren’t the master then. He was but now he’s dead.” The smile she makes is so jarring. It’s bright with blood. “Your orders, sir? Want me to dispose of him? Feed him to the dogs?”

“You’re sick in the head.”

“Am I?” she feigns ignorance, bashing her eyelashes like a coquettish maiden.

I sigh. “Tell me this, Mia. If I told you to shoot yourself, would you do it?”

“Of course. Not.” She laughs heartily. “It’s quite amusing that you’re going along with this absurd play. Aren’t you quite surprised that I could be capable of something like murder? With the sort of eyes I had, it was more likely that I had witnessed it rather than committed it, yes?”

“Certainly, but a child who sees death is infected by it.”

“So why didn’t you prevent it?” she says with a smile.

“I didn’t expect this level of insanity from you. I thought you were considering it but not doing it. Not yet. Either way, you killed Chekyll, but I could ask you, ‘Would you do the same to me?’ You are fucked in the head. Please explain to me why I should permit you to stay here.”

“No shit!” she mocks. “I’ve seen some shit. Childhood screwed me up, jumbled right and wrong, left and right. I don’t expect you to trust me, but surely even you know just how bad this situation looks, right? In a second, all the Flowers will gather here. They can only assume you’re the one who shot him. Of course, if you keep me, I can vouch for you. And there are added benefits as well.” She winks with a sly grin.

“Like what?”

“I’m quite pretty,” she jokes.

“And not my type,” I quip back.

“Oh! How cruel.” She recoils with one hand over face as though in anguish but quickly ends her affectation. “With an outsider, you need at least one backer. Without me, you won’t last long here. And even if you wished to never have associated with us, you’ll be killed if you leave us Flowers. We can’t have stray dogs wandering, after all.”

“Fine,” I reply, “but under one condition.”

“And what is that?” she raises her eyebrows. “You do know I’m in the superior negotiating position.”

“You won’t kill unless I tell you to, please,” I say with sincerity. The usual sarcasm and mockery in my voice isn’t present.

The sudden honest request throws her off guard, “Dahell.” But she quickly recovers. “Ahem, I suppose we can talk about it later.”

At that very moment, two men enter the room with guns on hand. One of them is the mercenary, the other Nikolai. I despise both, though I have to say that I hate Nikolai more. Even so, to preserve my life, I’ll have to play along with Mia.

Both aim their guns at me but Mia quickly interferes, “Wait. I killed him.”

Nikolai aims his gun at Mia. The mercenary’s doesn’t move. Well, of course, it wouldn’t. In any hostage situation, one must always keep an eye on the target. Both of them are killers. I can’t bank on the hope that they’ll hesitate.

As I try to find my own way out, Mia continues, “I’m sure you’re asking why. I’ll give you an answer. He was straying too far from our path. The vision he had was a bit too far-fetched.”

“Oh really~,” Nikolai mocks. “Our leader whom we have dedicated our lives to, the person who persuaded us to come here, has strayed? His vision disappeared? Just the other day, he was fine. Not a single bit of his ideology was wrong. We have to take back this wretched government; we have to avenge the fallen. You’re saying he changed his mind?”

Without batting an eye, she answers, “Of course and that is why I personally killed him.”

“He trusted you,” the mercenary suddenly comments. “He trusted you the most. How could you betray him?”

“Betrayal? I must ask that you refrain from exaggeration. I have proof of it. I will even go so far to claim that he was actively lying to the both of you.”

She makes a sudden accusation.

The two are unsurprised.

“What a load of bullshit.”

“Stop fucking around.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she grins. “May I go over to his body to demonstrate?”

“Fine,” the mercenary says but his gun is still locked and loaded.

She moves to the body and grabs his hair. Without any respect for the dead, she rips it apart until she finds a tiny metal dot. “A bug. With this, you two can listen to all his conversations and quickly realize. It was the reason why I was searching for a new leader instead of planning for the next attack.”

“Alright, we’ll check it, but our new recruit stays here,” Nikolai says. “Stand in front of my gun and move slowly. Anything suspicious and I’ll shoot.”

“Okay~,” she says with a singsong voice, completely indifferent to the gun aimed at her head.

I watch them leave while keeping one eye on the mercenary. I was hoping he was an amateur but he keeps his eyes wholly on me. I doubt distracting him won’t work. Since it’s pointless to run, I decide to start a conversation.

However-- “Why don’t we take a seat at the table?” -- he starts its first.

“Oh wow, talking with your captive is such an amateur move,” I mock.

“Do you want me to get the Punisher out?” he snarls. “Sit down.”

Like a domestic dog, I sit by the table in front of the cell.

“Good.” He moves to it slowly with his gun constantly aimed at me. He sits on a chair opposite me, always keeping the gun aimed at me. “So now that we’re all comfortable, how about a life story or two?”

“You should already know if you read my report.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s all fine and dandy, but you really can’t know a person unless you hear from them yourself. How was that war?”

“It’s such a mercenary thing to ask that first.”

“Indeed, it is, but you keep dodging the question,” he sighs. “Fine, I’ll tell my own story then. Perhaps then, you’ll be willing to tell yours.”

“You could shoot me instead,” I reply. The gun never wavers. We’re only an arms-length apart. Just a single aggression and I could finally die in the span of an arms-length. Still,

“You don’t want to die truly, now do you,” he makes the obvious observation.

“Indeed.” I already know that I want to keep living.

“So how are you still alive?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “When you’re my age, time begins to become so interminable that it doesn’t matter if it moves forwards or backwards. Give me a few years, and I’ll be a child once more. What does it matter? I lived for so long; might as well do it to the end.” I shrug.

“What about right after the war? How did you live through that?”

“It would be all so tragic if youth died right then and there.” I nonchalantly say, as though I didn’t just survived a death camp. “I was only about twenty-three or twenty-four at the time. If I killed myself, all the rest of my years would be taken. Life should be cherished.” At this, I make a self-mocking grin. For the soldier and mercenary, life is nothing. It can be reduced to a single bullet and nothing more.

“Do I have to threaten to shoot you to keep you from lying?”

“In that case, yes, please do. I may not wish to die but I don’t care to live much either. It’d be nice if I could just go and leave this earth.”

“I’m sorry,” he retorts. “That was a mistake. I’ll use the Punisher instead.”

“I apologize for lying,” I meekly answer, casting all pride away.

“You really have no spine, now do you.”

“When you’re beaten and starved to death every day, you quickly see just how cheap courage is.”

“There we go, why don’t you talk about it?”

“How was your first kill?” I suddenly ask.

“Horrifying,” he plainly replies.

I examine his expression. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying, but I already know just how dangerou that belief is. It seems as though that man had good intentions in mind. It seems like he’s kind and trustworthy. But then you realize the truth--

He had just sent me to die in the battlefield.

“Explain in detail.” To drive away the memory, I focus on the conversation.

“Oh, we were hiding in a tank on a desert wasteland. Gunpowder and sulfur lingered in the air. The air held poison. We hid in the tank to escape the poison. Nobody was expecting chemical warfare. A comrade suddenly opened the hatch. His skin was boiling but we had no more room. We shot him to end his suffering but not before some of the gas landed in the tank.”

“So that’s why your skin was pockmarked.”

“Now, I gave you one payment. It’s time for you to return the favor. That’s all a mercenary cares for. Obligations. We worked for you so pay us. The only question is--

“Are you the bastard who doesn’t uphold his end of the bargain?”

“Of course not,” I mock. “How the hell else could I have survived the camp if I wasn’t a betrayer. If a guard asked me who was the most dangerous, I wouldn’t have hesitated to choose the man who wronged me. I was a dog. However,” and this is where I make another self-deprecating joke, “I can’t refuse my torturer, now can I.”

“It’s always the same with you bastards,” he sighs and shakes his head. “You won’t cash out unless we force you.”

“It was the day I was recruited. A man I highly respected had told me to fight for the country and I believed him. Our generation trusted the elders. A very clear mistake.” I laugh. “Now, it’s the opposite. Today’s generation doesn’t trust the elders and think they have all the answers. Funny, isn’t it.”

The mercenary, of course, doesn’t respond.

“But enough of an old man’s talking. I very clearly remembered boot camp. We were all so excited and then they ground us to the ground and built us back again. By the end of it, our naivete disappeared. The instructors were returnees. None of held a single word back about the condition of the war. The soldiers were starving, the cities were in ruins, and desolation was everywhere. We were caught off guard and no we were scrambling for a desperate defense. And yet, what most amazed me were his eyes. As he spoke of the whole ordeal, they were smiling, as though he was speaking of an amusing joke. When he talked about the men dying of disease, and disturbing it was, their wounds festered because we had little supply left and their groans echoed through the corridors-- When he talked about the experience, he actually made a smile. In his words, he had said, ‘It’s almost comical. We were supposed to free our country but most of us died in hospitals than on battlefields, on beds than on dirt. Just like you cadets, we weren’t told it was that bad. But eventually, you’ll just live with it. And at that point, you can’t help but laugh.’”

There is silence but I continue. “When we weren’t sent to the battlefield, we already knew most of us would die. The fighting was fierce. Gunfire crackled at every hour, day or night. It seemed as though the enemy wouldn’t stop, and indeed they couldn’t stop. If they did, they would run out of supplies before they could win the war. That is why they were so relentless. In some respects, I would have loved to become one of them. A man who sincerely believed he was fighting for the good of the nation. For us, we were just sacks of meat meant to soak in the blows.

“Our first day, I was hiding inside a building with the rest of my squad. Someone threw a grenade and us newbies had no idea what it was. And then someone yelled ‘Get out!’ at the top of their lungs and I obeyed. Just as I left the building I encountered a soldier. Without hesitation, I shot him. It wasn’t even a lethal blow, just one to his leg. He dropped the gun and yelled in pain, giving off my position, but I ran like hell and leaped into a doorway. A fellow comrade nearly shot me.”

“…Is that really your first kill?” the mercenary says after a long while.

“Yes, I’d say so.”

“I wouldn’t think so. That wasn’t your first kill. That was just trapped prey clawing its way out. There is no honor to that.”

“Honor?” I snort. “Since when has murder been honorable.”

“A soldier wouldn’t understand. The only honor a soldier has is to obey orders, but that is no honor. That is a lack of responsibility. Surrendering your whole life just to a high commander far from the battlefield is just sad. Us mercenaries have a different code. We give our lives to one man we fight with. And when we kill, we make sure to do it properly. We look them in the eye and try to remember their name or at least their face.”

“You couldn’t possibly do that in every situation!” I retort.

“Of course not, but those killings weren’t honorable. That was just for the sake of survival. We treated them like an obstacle, but in any time where death is not at our doorstep, we treat our opponent as a man, not death. We do not reduce him to the person we must kill. All of us already understand. A man on the battlefield is fighting for something. Even for a soldier, they too kill for a reason.”

“Too bad mine was found on a lie. It’s all fine and dandy to have honor, to believe in something to fight for, whether it be for money or success, the Maker and his kingdom, or country and home, but our fight was nothing more than an untruth. The war was terrible and it ruined us from the very start. Right at the beginning, we lost our cause and it was nothing but troubles from there. At the end, battle-scarred and weary, yet another trial faced our path. And before that, we had just survived imprisonment.”

“But surely, even in that moment, you had your cause, right?”

I laugh. “Oh yes, that noble cause that allows a man to suffer hell itself. I lived for my fiance and newly born daughter.” Longing fills my eyes. “It was so lovely that night I left. And a year in, as though it was the Maker’s miracle, I saw a picture of my baby girl.” It isn’t long before a boundless emptiness replaces nostalgia. “Too bad my daughter starved and my wife disappeared. The state apparatus obliterated her. Not a single record was spared but does anyone remember? Of course not! Where there is no history, we cannot remember.”

“Your cause was stolen but now we can give you a new one. ‘We are the ones who remember.’ That is our purpose. Why don’t you trust us for a bit and we can fashion you a new reason to live.”

“How old are you,” I suddenly ask.

“Seventy-five.”

“Huh, doesn’t look like it,” I joke, but of course he must have surely gone through the same treatment I did. “But either way, you have not lived through the war.”

“I was its aftermath.”

“No. We were the aftermath; you were the byproducts. The generation that lived the war, that breathed it, snuffed itself out. Our country betrayed us. You were the lucky ones. You knew nothing of betrayal, nothing of hopelessness, nothing of rejection. Your generation had a thousand times the capabilities of us crippled war vets and abandoned widows. You were the generation of revolution. We were the generation of destruction. All of you have not a single damn clue what you wish to unveil to our country. I despise the government from the bottom of my heart but it’s time to let old bones rest. Leave the skeletons in the closet. We were destined to die alone anyways, bitter and unhappy. Do you know what you wish for?”

“I’ve heard the stories. My own father had experienced it. He had killed himself because it was too much. The note he left behind, the account he held inside, surely, it ate at him until it was too much. He was left behind. We can’t leave behind you!”

“Funny that you say that when most of us aren’t even alive,” I reply. “Just another ideologue. Your belief is surely wrong. Your father may have killed himself because he was forgotten. Maybe. But the more certain reason was that his own country had become foreign to him. Times changed quickly. Already, he was an outsider starting from the war itself. When the old order was destroyed, he was still enmeshed in the past. No amount of sympathy could have saved him. The past swallows us whole. That is why we are the Vanished Ones.”

It is at this moment that Nikolai and Mia enter the room.