21st day of summer, 9132 the Unic Reckoning. Near Masuay, Flalea

  Wet had had enough of his own life. He was tired, sore, and slowly starting to believe that things couldn’t get any worse.

  “Why the fuck are you so down?” asked Right Hand as he passed by.

  “I'm fed up with my life” Wet replied reluctantly.

  “Then sit on your ass in the tent and don’t fed up others with it” the other man growled, walking away.

  The squad was like one big, wonderful, understanding family. If Wet had known this earlier, he would never have run away from home to join the Company. His real family had at least only been eight bags full of shit, but here he had thirty-six, and he was responsible for all of them.

  “Wet, Right Hand is picking on the newbies again” said Talk Back, sitting down next to Wet.“Why should I care?” Wet asked indifferently.

  “Because you’re in charge?”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Why are you so out of it?”

  Wet looked at his comrade sitting beside him, then answered with complete sincerity:“I’m thinking that when the Commander assigned me to lead you all, I should’ve ended my life right then and there instead of agreeing.”

  “I’m starting to think you tripped this morning, sat on your knife sheath, and liked it, so now you’re having some kind of internal crisis.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with shoving everything up everyone’s ass. Next time, I’ll tell the Commander to assign you to Lukewarm. He’ll help you with that once and for all.”

  Talk Back smirked nastily and shook his head.

  “I’m not his type, but thanks for the concern.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about any of you.”

  “Sure, sure. What about the new guy, then?”

  “Tell Right Hand to fuck off.”

  The soldier nodded, stood up, and walked off to deliver the message. Wet sighed heavily. This day really couldn’t get any worse…

  “Bird!” he suddenly heard Echo’s roar.

  “Well, fuck” Wet hissed to himself. “It can always get worse.”

  He stood up from the piece of wood he’d been sitting on, brushed off his pants, and headed toward his tent, where a small bird with a tiny backpack strapped to its back was already waiting. Wet didn’t know how much truth there was to the rumors about the animal, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He bowed politely, then courteously lifted the tent flap, letting the messenger enter first. There was something humiliating about it – in his opinion – but he didn’t plan to dwell on it. He had more important things on his mind than constantly reminding himself how little he mattered in this big world and that he ranked lower than some damn winged bastard

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Blind One adjusted the bandage covering his empty eye socket, then looked at Trace with amusement.“You might as well tell Echo to handle it and hope he actually does it.

  – Your contribution to this matter is invaluable. Fuck you.”

  “Echo!” Blind One shouted.

  “What?!”

  “Trace wants you to bring Abacus to us.”

  “Abacus!” Echo repeated, then wandered off somewhere.

  “Did a horse kick him in the head or something?” Trace asked irritably. “All he does is repeat things and nothing else. I’m starting to wonder why we even tolerate him here.”

  “He fights well” Blind One replied after a moment’s thought.

  “Like all of us.”

  “Better than most of us.”

  “Details.” Trace was annoyed. “Why else?”

  “Because when something happens, he doesn’t lose his head and does what needs to be done.”

  “Like all of us.”

  “Like only some of us.” Blind One corrected again.

  “Go on. Anything else?”

  “He’s a decent cook.”

  “Anyone can throw food into a pot.”

  “Not you.”

  Trace shot Blind One a murderous look, then asked with clear threat in his voice:

  “Anything else?”

  “Anything else I have to say about you? Or are we still talking about Echo?”

  “We’re talking about Echo.”

  “Well, he’s good at patching people up.”

  Blind One was pretty sure he’d hear that everyone in the squad was practically a medic, but Trace surprised him this time by saying:

  “I need to learn how to do that, and then I’ll be able to slit his throat with a clear conscience.”

  Blind One didn’t have anything smart to say to that. He nodded with feigned understanding, then went back to peeling vegetables when he heard:

  “Who do you want to kill?”

  He looked up and stared in surprise at Abacus.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Echo said you wanted to see me.

  “Echo?” Trace asked just to confirm he heard correctly.

  “Yeah.”

  “That Echo?” Trace wanted to make sure.

  “Yeah, I don’t know any other Echo. Why?”

  Blind One chuckled under his breath but didn’t respond. Trace cursed vehemently, then added:“So he’s not completely stupid and can actually follow orders, not just repeat them! That’s even more reason to slit his throat.”

  “But he’s the only one who can…”

  “Don’t finish that. Or I’ll add you to my blacklist too.”

  Abacus shrugged. Some things just weren’t worth the effort, and this was one of them.

  “So what did you want from me?”

  “Well, you see, it’s about the new tent…”

  “No. Patch up what you can or buy it yourselves. You know how things are, so I don’t know why you’re even asking.”

  “We thought today might be a day of miracles and it was worth a try. If even Echo turned out to be somewhat useful…”

  “Sure” Abacus replied automatically. “Honestly, I don’t care, so you don’t need to bother with the rest of your explanation.”

  With that, the soldier turned on his heel and walked away. Blind One whistled quietly, then said only:“Not that I didn’t tell you, but…”

  “Shut up” Trace replied wearily.

  He really needed a new tent.