Blood March, vol. 1

Day 2,476, 07:33 • Published in USA Serbia • by B0naparte

It was bullshit. Most missions were nowadays. If he tried hard he could remember back to a time when nation's alliances were solid, nearly unshifting. Now they seemed to blow with the breeze. If it wasn't for the politicians...With that he shrugged his shoulders and raised his gun, shaking himself from his thoughts. He was a soldier. At the end of the day, orders were orders, no matter who was giving them.

It meant he wouldn't question why he was fighting for someone who months before had been his enemy. It was just the way the New World worked. After the Final War, after the Breaking of Humanity, there wasn't much left. And what little there was left was worth fighting over. Which made people like him indispensable to those who had tried to hold Humanity together.

So he stood at a crossroads, literally, head checking down the three other paths. He knew the road behind him was secure; he had just come that way, and his small group of men were spreading out to secure it. He presumed the road to the west was secure. The only soldiers that would be encountered that way were "allied" to his nation. He stifled a snort, knowing that alliance could change at any moment. But until it did, he would trust their word.

The decision was to move right or forward. Scout reports had said that hostile elements had been seen to the east, but his directive lay to the north. Another of his nation's allies was currently being besieged, and they had been unable to free themselves. They had sent word asking for help, and two weeks had passed since its receipt. His nation had had to deal with its own worries (And lose a politician in the process). Now he and his men were on their way in a show of good faith. He couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.

As the leader of his platoon he had a decision to make. Deal with the threat to his flanks, and possibly his nation, or continue ahead as his mission directed. He was a soldier. Orders were his livelihood, but he was also proactive enough to know that he didn't want enemies shooting up his nation's infrastructure. He raised his hand as he heard his men approaching, clenching his fist in the "stop" position. The wind whipped around him, kicking up dust. He turned his head from side to side, weighing his options, knowing his men's lives depended on his leadership. So it was not an easy decision and he dropped his hand.

"First squad, take the right, Second to the left. Advance!

To be continued....