The wind stilled and the small suns drifted listlessly as we marched by; attempting to ignite; hoping for destruction; wishing to bring chaos wherever it landed. Distantly, we heard the screaming anguish of traitors and loyalists alike. The traitors shrieked futilely; no one would come for them. All sounds we created were synchronised and rhythmic, an ordered cacophony of crunching gravel under heavy boots and measured breathing that quelled the very air itself. We noticed all...

  And onward we marched.

  The surroundings were a ruin. A towering city had once stood here but the traitors and loyalists had razed it to the ground. I took a moment to look around, noticing many of those aforementioned, lying still and unmoving. The controlled air we gave off shattered as a cry pierced our ears. It was masculine in nature and I made the decision to approach it, making a twisting motion with my hand. He was crying out for help and so it was our duty to check if he was able to be saved... and whether he should be saved.

  Towards him, I marched.

  His voice grew hopeful at my audible approach. From just a quick glance, I could tell he was trapped by his legs and an arm under a large chunk of rubble. His skin was a smooth rich olive, marred only by the crimson streaks of ruby red that dripped down his face and congealed on the ground around him. I knelt and lifted the rubble without much effort, proceeding to check the seriousness of his injuries. I vaguely heard his mumbled thanks but I was too busy assessing the wounds. They were not treatable, not treatable before he'd die at least. He was armed at one point, if the crushed metal was anything to go by, and I could tell from the scrap it wasn't a sanctioned weapon. Unfortunately for him, our orders were clear when it came to unregistered arms users. I stood and sighed, clenching my fist twice and walking back to the road to continue my march.

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  Onward, I marched.

  Unprofessionally, my mind drifted. Drifted back to the speech I had given my squad not even 5 hours ago. "They are monsters. Monsters do not deserve our mercy. That is besides the point however as I'm here to brief everyone on our hand signals." The speech continued on for a while, mostly propaganda to make sure they didn't chicken out of their righteous duty, but my mind skipped to the important bits. "The clenched fist signifies ending. One clench is stop moving and two clenches is to end their treasonous life." My mind flickered back to the march, hearing the man's desperate pleas. As per protocol, we all activated our mufflers and ignored the traitor.

  Onward, I marched.

  Faintly, I heard a scream. Then I was back to hearing nothing. The wind was still and the city was still in ruin. Onward I marched: resolute in my duty; determined in my mission; faithful in the regime. No one would come for the man I had just left. My squad fell in behind me and we carried on marching. The city was vast but our synchronised steps on the gravel would eventually lead us to the end of our duty, in one way or another.