The War's Remnants
#1 of Others
Through the open window of the Greyhound bar, a beam of light escaped and helped to brighten up the silent street. The bar was the place to be but, unusually, it was rather quiet for the time of night. However, it was still more welcoming than the dark, cold, miserable streets.
The wine and beer glasses were shining like diamonds on the shelf. The modern interior design was dominated by the colour gold which gave the place a certain level of class. There was a classic radio that played jazz music by the far side of the bar. This touch of Jazz set the classy tone even further. This was the place to be if you wanted to feel classy for barely any money.
A man sat on a stool at the main bar area. He was a tall, broad, tough looking man with medium-long, striking flame orange hair coming out the sides of the hood that concealed his face. His left hand glistened in the light of polished metalwork, which was holding a glass of gin and tonic. This man's name was Mylo Johnson. And, he was a man of war.
Mylo looked toward at the wine glasses. His eyes almost glowing in the darkness under his hood, his vision going a little blurry from the gin and tonic. He was in thought of the war, thinking of how things would have gone if something had changed. Even under the hood, he could hear someone walk to the side door.
A woman came into the bar via the side door from the dark, snowy alley way. The snow outside flying into the bar like the white wisps of the soulless bar patrons returning to their bodies. Raven black robes hung from the woman's body, with armor like clothing covering most of her body - she must be a soldier from the Main Army, only a soldier would wear that amount of armor. She walked along the bar counter and placed herself rather comfortable next to the hooded man. She showed no reservations towards this stranger. In fact her infectious smile was rather welcoming.
"So, what's a man like you doing in a pub like this?" Her voice was slightly familiar. Mylo turn his head under his hood to look at her, even with the slight blurriness. Mylo could see she was a picture of beauty, and she had sea blue eyes and long blonde hair covering the back of her head until in front of her ear, with just a hint of make-up.
"I could ask you the same thing about such a beauty like you." Mylo said, removing his dark hood, revealing the rough, orange-furred head of a fox with a scar across his bad eye.
"A charmer fox, never saw that one coming," she said statistically.
"Hasn't it always been so? Anyway, does this piece of perfection go by another name?" Mylo asked.
"You're pushing your luck too much," the soldier said.
"No fox can ever push their luck too much."
"Well, for being so bold, I'm going to do you a favor."
"If I knew I would get something out of it, I would have been much bolder." Mylo said cheekily.
"You shouldn't be too bold at times, boulders killed the bold you know."
"Yeah, I know. So, what is this favor?" He asked
"To try to find out what the hell is wrong with you."
"What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious?
"Thanks, but no thanks. I've had enough with people trying to 'find out' what's wrong with me." Mylo said, drinking the last of his drink. "I once had five people trying to do the same in one week, it turned out they wanted to get me back into the war, that's what happens when you're a Spartan."
"You're a Spartan?"
"Yes."
"Well I'm sure you can trust me."
"OK, fine. Let's hear it then."
"How about we go back to the war? I see that you have two bad war wounds." She said gesturing the bionic hand and the eye.
"These?" he asked. "Believe it or not I'm the lucky one."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Mylo sighed as he lighted a cigarettes and put it in his mouth "I was in the wrecked city of Flain, But at that time parts of it looked more like a field than part of a city. My squad was then ambushed by species 273."
"The Foloh?"
"Yes, bloody brutes. We had to retreat, running through ash shells of humans. Almost as if they were trapped within in a lava eruption. We started to hold ground against them, killing as many as we could. I then decided to get as many of them as I could; I ran out from my defense and try to shoot any, if I was lucky
"They had set up a plasma gun on the corner of a building in the direction I was going. I didn't know at that time, I heard a shout and plasma fire. Next there was a body in front of me. I guess I knew who it was before I sew who it was, I could always tell. You see, all the soldiers in my squad had identity marks on the chin bone in front of the ear. I shot the gunner with a bullet to the head and ran to the body."
Mylo stopped, took a deep breath and then continued. "I moved the hair counseling the mark, it was... Kat's mark. We only got married a week before the god damned war started."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Thanks."
"Can I ask you something?" she asked after a little pause.
"Sure"
"Do you feel guilty for her death?" She asked.
Mylo hesitated for a moment and shivered. "I do," he said after the pause. "You know what the last thing she said to me?" He asked. The soldier shook her head.
"She told me that she would wait for me."
She put her hand on Mylo's shoulder. "Maybe you shouldn't feel guilty because she obviously wanted to give her life for you."
"Really?"
"Yes," she reassured him.
"Perhaps we're blind to the things most clear sometimes."
"I know the feeling. You will be okay, won't you?"
"Yes." Mylo said. The soldier then got up from the chair,
Mylo noticed the mark on the cheek bone as she started walking to the front door.
"You never did tell me your name." Mylo said, turning round.
The woman stopped just before the door. "I think you already know who I am, if you're anything like I remember you." She then put her hand on the door handle, twisted it and the door slowly creaked open as she vanished, becoming a whisper in the wintery wind.
Mylo showed no sign of surprise by this. "I thought you said you would wait." He chuckled softly to himself. He turned back to the bar, looked at the empty glass and hummed to the new song on the radio. Wondering whether he himself was one of the war's true renmant...