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Another.
And by now, he'd had enough.
His mind briefly flitted back to another place... another time.
He scowled as his thoughts attempted to flee... The warm heat of a desert sun. The sound of bullets whizzing around. His commanding officer dragging him away from the wall... What had he done?
To that village woman?
"What did you do?" the officer's voice had screamed in rage.
He was transported in mind and senses.
The first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, a stark contrast to the blood-stained earth below. The woman's body lay crumpled in the dirt, her life snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
The man, standing tall against the water tower, let out a long, mournful sigh. The satisfaction he felt moments before had dissipated like fog in the sunlight. He had seen too many battles, survived too many close calls, and here he was, faced with a haunting memory that would not let go.
An image of the village woman flashed before his eyes. Her eyes pleading for mercy, her voice lost in a desperate scream as she tried to shield herself from the destruction around her. The acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh still lingered in his nostrils. He remembered the gunfire, the deafening sound that echoed through the village, shattering the silence.
His mind reeled as he tried to piece together the events of that fateful day. He had been younger, more reckless, driven by the heat of battle. In his heart, there was a lingering regret for the lives he had inadvertently taken, as well as a profound guilt for the actions he had taken part in that day.
As he stood there, staring at the battle-worn man in the mirror of a memory, he realized that the scars on his face were a constant reminder of his past, etched deeply into his skin like grooves.
He cursed, shaking his head, and growling.
Dishonorably discharged.
For a single mistake.
Just one...
They'd taken everything from him.
A decade of service. A decade of killing everyone they asked him to kill. A decade of playing the role.
And then a single error, and he'd been discarded like a broken puppet.
He'd even spent some time in the brig.
Why?
He scowled now. Because he'd had some fun?
No... no, they deserved what came to them.
His attention snapped back to the present.
On instinct alone, his rifle whipped up.
Two more shots.
He caught the struggling woman in the chest and then in the skull.
And then it was all over.
He watched as she hit the dusty ground in front of the wreckage of her truck.
The driver's body lay still in the dirt, her lifeless eyes staring up at the indifferent sky. The man slowly descended from the water tower, tinging against the metal ladder. He dropped to the ground, and his footsteps crunched on the gravel. He walked over to her, his heart pounding in his chest. He kneeled beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch her cold, lifeless face.
