"A man’s tears are different than a child’s. A child cries to be heard. A man cries when no one is left to hear him. Those tears carry entire histories—wars fought, loves lost. When tears of men fall, even stones crack under their weight." -Heracles

"Anya, have you seen Sir John around?" Isabel asked a passing maid, who shook her head, bowed, and kept on moving.

—Where in the hells is the bastard? He better not have gotten drunk and lost track of time again!

Isabel once more stormed through the corridors of the castle, eventually approaching her office door, laying a hand on it before pausing. The door was slightly ajar, a slim crack of light escaping from within.

—Someone's here.

Isabel looked to her left, then right, carefully pushing the door open.

Creee

          aaaa

                    kkkkk

The screams were deafening. Gunfire surrounded them, mortar shells and RPGs flying all around, blowing up and scattering. Ethan's ears rang as he looked around, his men scrambling to their feet, attempting to return fire but clearly outgunned and outnumbered. Some of them ran out of ammo and had to switch to their sidearms, others were down to their last grenade-- and those were the fortunate ones, the ones who weren’t left to die, holding onto their sides, bleeding all over the now sticky sand, possibly breathing their last breaths.

Ethan looked to his second in command, Johnny. He sat against a few paces away behind makeshift pile of sandbags, holding a paper tightly in his hand.

Ethan rushed over, bullets narrowly missing him as he threw himself beside Johnny.

"JOHNNY!" He had to raise his voice to a shout. "JOHNNY, ARE YOU HURT?!"

A bullet wheezed past causing Ethan to shrink, another one was stopped by one of the bags, causing it to leak.

"That's the thing about being black ops, huh..." Johnny spoke weakly.

"WHAT?!"

"We don't get air support..."

Ethan could see the man's dull eyes. He wasn’t wounded-- worse, he gave up. Gave up on making it out alive.

"This was supposed to be my last mission too... and now..."

Ethan looked closer at the paper Johnny held onto. It was a photo of Johnny, his wife, and two daughters.

Ethan grabbed Johnny’s vest, giving him a strong shake. 

"Don't give up, man! You'll see them, I promise!!"

Johnny didn’t reply, simply staring at the picture as a tear slid down his face.

Ethan calmly got up, moving back to the front of the line and grabbing a heavy black duffel bag, hurling it over his back.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, COMMANDER?!" a soldier shouted, looking scared and confused as another bullet wheezed over Ethan's shoulder.

"I'm making sure some of us make it out alive of this hellhole."

Without another word, Ethan left the soldier shocked as he ran towards the hail of bullets, jumping from mound to mound, grunting as a bullet pierced his shoulder, flying out of his back.

"COVER FIRE!!" Ethan commanded loudly, his bleeding back against a small hill.

"COVER FIRE!!!!!" His soldiers echoed, emptying the remainder of their ammo at the building where the shots were coming from.

Ethan bobbed and weaved, narrowly missed by a mortar that landed behind him, launching him toward the building. He hit his head on the ground, his body riddled with shrapnel.

His head rang loudly, but he felt no pain. The adrenaline took care of that.

—You're going home...

He assured himself weakly, struggling to his feet and shooting two men at the doorway. He pushed inside, shooting another in the chest.

—I'm getting you home...

A shot hit his thigh. Ethan screamed, aiming his gun with one hand and riddling the man on the stairs with bullets.

—I'm getting all of you home...

He knelt, breathing heavily as he set the duffel bag down, sliding the zipper open to reveal a cache of timed explosives. Ethan began activating them one by one, sticking them to the pillars on his way to the back of the building. By the time he reached the stairs and shot another man, the bag was empty. He hurled it away.

A few stairs later, another enemy charged at him. Ethan’s weapon jammed, and the man managed to stab him in the gut.

"Kucgh!" Ethan gasped, beating the man with the butt of his weapon.

He made it to the second level, hiding behind a pillar just in time for a slew of bullets to whistle past.

A shadow flickered to his left.

Ethan acted quickly, grabbing the man and smashing his head against the wall. Again, and again, and again, he furiously cracked the man's skull without remorse.

The man slumped down just as a number of bullets pierced Ethan’s back. He fell onto his front, letting out a choked grunt.

"I'm . . ." He paused for a sharp breath. "Getting you . . ."

The man who shot him approached, swinging his weapon in the air.

"Home."

BANG!!

The soldiers looked up from their mounds of sand, their mouths agape at the sight of the building collapsing on itself, enormous explosions sending pieces of concrete everywhere. Then, the shockwave hit, sending a few of them reeling back. But that didn’t stop the cheering, the cries of relief, the high fives.

Johnny kissed the picture, slipping it into his pocket as he stepped closer to the frontline.

"But who...?" One of the soldiers asked, as they all gathered around to watch the fireworks.

"The Commander." replied the one Ethan had passed by before. 

The soldiers snapped into a salute, their pace and form exact, their timing immaculate. Tears streaked their faces, but none dared break the salute. They just stood there, silently.

A helicopter landed behind the team. Out stepped a man in a suit, followed by a team of medics and reinforcements, extracting the injured and checking the perimeter.

"Thank you, my friend. I pray you find peace in the afterlife," Johnny mumbled to himself, holding back a whimper, saluting once more with a stern nod.