March on Soldier

Miles Kerberos was a soldier. He received vigorous training and strict regimens to build him into the ideal military machine. He was one of the top in his class, even outranking those with cybernetic enhancements. It's because of this he was given the most dangerous of missions, and he was more than willing to put his life on the line to serve.

 So when he heard about the arsonists in Glamour, he initially considered it to be just another mission to shoot down some terrorists. He didn't expect them to be both organized and chaotic in their methods. Without a name or symbol, pinning down who was part of them or merely another bandit was difficult. Thus, the government gave them the codename 'Nameless' for soldiers to use as a reference.

After months of tracking down the Nameless, they finally had a lead. All of the technology they stole had to go somewhere after all, so there had to be a base. Once they narrowed the location of one, they jumped into action, loading up everyone into their trucks to roll out. On this day, Miles sat across from his brother-in-arms, Lenny, in the back of the van. Lenny was shorter and rounder than Miles, but he tried his hardest to never fall behind. There were even a few times Lenny pulled him out of a tight situation, saving him from being left wide open or getting blown up.

As they were going over their equipment, Lenny clicked his teeth and mumbled, "Damn it. Don't tell me I forgot..."

"Oh boy. What did you forget this time?" Miles asked playfully.

Lenny pointed to his narrow, black-rimmed glasses. "My goggles! It's going to be way harder to aim if I'm not locked in."

Miles sighed and shook his head. Every piece of their equipment was optimized with AI technology to ensure they can fight as safely and efficiently as possible. It even accounted for physical flaws such as poor vision. Not having that when they were about to be thrust into danger was extremely reckless.

"Yeah, you fucked that one up." Miles took off his goggles and handed them to Lenny. "Here. Take mine. You need it more than me."

"You sure, buddy?"

"I'm sure, buddy."

"Thanks," Lenny said as he accepted the goggles and slipped them on, neon blue lights flickering through the lens as they were calibrated.

As soon as the truck came to a halt, the two leapt out of the truck and directly into the battlefield. Shouting and firing gave them a warm welcome, and they ducked under cover behind a concrete mass to dodge the stream of bullets. The location was one of the villages they had destroyed, most of its houses crumbled to ruin with only the farm fields still intact. Tents had been put up to compensate for the lack of shelter, where their targets were quick to pick up their weapons and shields. If they wanted to take them down, they had to be smart with their approach.

"I see explosives!" Lenny yelled as he pointed to one of the tents. "We can blow'em sky high if we trigger it!"

"That's if they don't use it on us first," Miles replied.

As if to support his claim, an explosion went off not long after some distance away. Miles used this distraction to continue moving forward, and Lenny followed right behind him. Miles shot down the three men approaching in front, while Lenny sniped the two men on top of the buildings. If one moved, the other reacted, trusting their partner to warn them of blind spots. Try as the enemy might, they couldn't beat their experience and resolve.

Their path was soon clear, and they were drawing close to the tent with the explosives. However, they were forced to come to a stop when someone emerged from the tent, and their hearts sank to their feet at the sight. It was a small child, a boy around six or seven, strapped with bombs connected to his heart. His dirt-covered face was bruised and streaked with tears as he dragged his little feet forward.

This was bad. Miles had seen this before. If that child got close and died, he would take everyone in range with him. The first solution was as simple as saving the boy and getting him to safety, but the enemy could take him out or trigger the bomb themselves if needed. The second solution was... less ethical.

"Let's back up," Miles said. "Then you snipe him."

Lenny's jaw dropped, baffled. "What the hell, man?!"

"He's a walking dead man. We can't save him. You know this."

"Still..."

Miles scowled and glared at Lenny. "You want him to kill our men out there?!"

"N-No! But..."

Miles groaned, then took a deep breath and contemplated the situation. "Fine. I'll do it then."

He separated from Lenny to get into an ideal position to fire, using the ruins to his advantage as both camouflage and a shield. This wasn't the first time he had to resort to something like this. It was part of the job. He had accepted this, even if some chose to hesitate. Yet when it was time to take aim and fire... his path was blocked. By Lenny.

Lenny slowly moved towards the boy, trying not to alarm him as he gently said, "Hey, buddy. You alright? We're here to help..."

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY, LENNY!" Miles shouted. "I'M GOING TO SHOOT!"

Lenny looked over towards the sound, though unable to see him due to him taking cover. "I'm sorry, Miles! I got a brother his age. I just... I just can't!"

The poor child quivered with fear, darting his head around in confusion. Miles couldn't get a good shot at him with how much he was moving. Lenny was in the worst possible spot to be in as well. What was he supposed to do?

He didn't have to answer that question. Someone else answered it for him. The boy's forehead was splattered red as a bullet passed clean through him, causing him to fall backwards. A loud beep echoed across the field, and everything went white. The intense heat dug into Miles's skin even from behind the rubble, and the debris flew straight into his unprotected eyes. His ears rang so loud in his head he didn't realize he was screaming in agonizing pain until reinforcements arrived.

Miles's eyes shot open as he woke from his nightmare, clutching his sheets while panting heavily. It wasn't the worst memory to dream about, but it was unpleasant nonetheless. It was because of that mission he had to be discharged due to his injuries. The mission was a success in the end, but the cost had been great. He had someone else sent to deliver the news to Lenny's family because he was too ashamed to do it himself. He never thought he could be such a coward.

He sat up from his bed and rubbed his eyes, cursing to himself as they stung. Enough reminiscing. He had to get to work. He needed to pick up Judas and bring him to Mr. Midas for their meeting. Though first, he should use some eyedrops...

---

Convincing Santo to let Judas leave Nevertown when he wanted to was as simple as crafting a lie. The key to creating the perfect lie was having some truth mixed into it. Yes, he was being picked up by an employee from Midas Trading Company who found him and brought him to Nevertown. Yes, there was a possibility he could be adopted, but someone's wife doesn't want any children right now. Santo knew that much. 

However, what he didn't know was that it wasn't the random employee Judas had posed with for a photo to show to Santo. The photo of him playing with said employee's children was also a facade. He broke their toys and made them cry five minutes later. Bob was happy to play along for that pay raise though, and that's all that mattered.

In order to prevent anyone from seeing him, Miles would park near the back of the cave Judas and Timmy would be in, then honk three times to signal his arrival. Judas would've normally emerged and gotten in shortly after, yet today there seemed to be a delay. Several minutes passed, but nothing. Confused, Miles stepped out of the car and walked around the stone structure to check the situation.

He quickly realized his mistake stepping in, as the two boys weren't alone. Talus, Santo's mechanic, was busy fiddling with a broken game console to get it to work again. The three turned their heads to the entrance, and Judas furrowed his brows in annoyance.

"Seriously?!" Judas spat. "I was gonna be there in a minute! Why'd you come in?!"

"I've been waiting for ten minutes with no response," Miles answered. "You should have informed me if you need more time."

Talus quirked a curious eyebrow. "Ah. You the guy taking Judas out today? Santo told me but I don't know the exact details. I'm Talus."

"Yes I know," Miles said while adjusting his sunglasses. "You've repaired some of our machines at Midas Trading Company. Your work is admirable."

Talus grinned and bashfully rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, someone's gotta do it. Well I won't keep ya waitin'. I'll have this fixed by the time you get back, Jude."

Judas rolled his eyes at the nickname, but got up and left without any further issues. Timmy meekly waved him off and nothing else. Miles and Judas entered the black car with an air of silence that could be cut with a knife.

As they started driving towards their destination, Miles asked, "Are you getting along with everyone there?"

Judas chuffed and crossed his arms. "Pft. Why do you care?"

"A spy needs to be able to blend in to avoid being discovered. Knowing you've earned their trust would be reassuring to Mr. Midas."

"Hmph. I guess. I got tired of getting in trouble, so I just keep my distance now."

"Fair enough."

Miles didn't like that he dreamed about that boy last night. He had most likely been a rat like Judas who was kidnapped by the arsonists to use as a disposable tool. He wondered if Mr. Midas was going to keep his end of the deal, or if he intended on being no different.

Not helping his case, it was Mrs. Midas who answered the door when they arrived at the mansion. She stared down at the boy with utter disgust, like he was rotting garbage left in a trash can. Judas returned the gesture with a confident smirk, knowing she couldn't toss him out. Eventually she broke eye contact with a disapproving huff, and led them to the living room where Mr. Midas was waiting. Judas happily made himself at home on one of the expensive, leather black couches, spreading himself out across the fine, brown fur pillows decorating it.

Mrs. Midas covered her mouth, her face turning pale as if she was about to vomit. "God... why do you let him act like this? How unruly..."

"It's fine, my little nugget!" Mr. Midas said while waving a dismissive hand. He was comfortably seated in his own golden throne adorned with beautiful, ruby fabrics. "We can have the maids clean up after him. Don't you worry."

Mrs. Midas moved to leave after that, but Miles was within hearing distance of her angrily mumbling to herself.

"There's no way he's taking in that little mutt. Not if I have anything to say about it..."

"I see why you like Freya more," Judas bluntly stated, not caring if she could still hear. "She'd be a way better mom than that pig."

Mr. Midas burst out laughing in response. "Judas, my boy! You're too honest for your own good! But you must understand. Adults have responsibilities and obligations. Even if you don't like her, she's still my wife and I love her ever so dearly."

Judas gave him a doubtful look. "Uh-huh. Sure..."

"Anyway, what do you have for me? Good news, I hope."

"I'm getting there. If I can get into his cabinet, I can nab the files. Problem is he keeps the key on him all the time." Judas sighed and put his hands behind his head. "I'm stumped. Maybe we can blow it up with explosives?"

Mr. Midas's eyes suddenly lit up at the suggestion. "Oh, yes! Explosives! A bright idea, boy. But maybe not for the cabinet. Might be dangerous if he has traps around it."

Judas tilted his head slightly, puzzled. "Then what?"

"Something else," Mr. Midas answered vaguely, his grin gleaming as the dark thoughts in his mind began to churn. "Either way, you'll have the perfect chance soon. The men overseas informed me we're going to have an air raid in the area to drown out the terrorists. You can simply break in during the commotion."

Judas sat up with excitement from hearing that and asked, "When's that happening?"

Mr. Midas giggled from seeing his reaction. "Soon, my boy! Very soon..."

Miles frowned. Something didn't feel right. An organized air raid wouldn't happen without proper reason for it. Blindly bombing populated areas would mean casualties of countless innocents.

"Excuse me, sir," Miles interjected. "May I ask what led them deciding to do an air raid?"

"Oh that?" Mr. Midas leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. "I may have given them some information about the terrorists that I had."

Miles's eyes grew wide, surprised. "How do you know about the arsonists?"

"My father, mostly. He had a bit of an... arrangement with them back in the day. That arrangement no longer exists, so the information may be a biiit outdated, yet that doesn't matter."

"If I may, sir... I feel this may be more than necessary. Why are you going through such lengths?"

Mr. Midas's expression shifted from childish glee to disturbingly stern. "I told you. I despise Santo. I want him to suffer."

Miles nearly reeled back, almost intimidated by the murderous aura emanating from his own boss. "This isn't about the bridge, isn't it?"

"Oh, it is, but it also goes much deeper than that." His hands gripped together tightly, veins popping out from the sides, yet his tone remained calm. "I didn't always agree with my father, but I loved him. I admired him. I wanted to be as successful as him, even if our methods were different. And yet..." He stopped himself and slowly shook his head. "No. You don't need to know. It's none of your business."

Miles glanced at Judas, who had tuned out the conversation at this point to kick around on the couch instead, then back at his boss. "Understood. My apologies."

He never understood why selfish men had to bring innocents into their squabbles. At the same time, he realized he was being disrespectful to the one man who helped him after he lost his position. Was he being ungrateful for the sake of self-righteousness? He didn't know.

Miles Kerberos was a solider. That didn't change even after losing his uniform. He was built from the ground up to follow orders. Yet when he dropped Judas off back at Nevertown, and saw Timmy happily run up to greet him, he thought about Lenny for the first time in years. He thought about the brother that would never greet him home. His heart stirred like the beef stew his mother used to make every winter as he drove back to his apartment.

He may have been a solider, but he wasn't a machine. He was, undoubtedly, a human.