On the streets, the haggard soldier sped through the streets, as much as his body could possibly allow, considering his long period of imprisonment. He couldnât afford to slow down, not in this mess, so he gritted his teeth, and let the muscle memory take root in his mind. It wasnât possible for him to handle this on his own though. If he was going to make it through this mess, he needed help, and there was only person he could call.
Slowing down among the devastation, there was no end of corpses in sight. It was the sad reality of war, something was constantly perpetuated by those who swore to defend the people. With a deep sigh, he began checking the pockets of the fallen citizens, until, finally, he acquired what he was searching for; a phone.
âSorry, pal. I need this more than you.â
It was a small condolence, but he was already at work dialing away to get in contact with the person he trusted most. Holding it up to his ear, he got the awaited dial tone, and the answer.
âJIll?â
jirubarens


















