tremble.
November, 2013.
You win some, you lose some.
In Umbrella, a complete victory was difficult to achieve. Today, however, Mark thought they were able to get pretty dang close.
First of all, there were no civilian casualties. When they shouted out instructions to the initially panicking crowd, the people actually piped down and did as they were told without any questions. One of the guys in a nice suit even said thank you on his way out, which was a pleasant surprise.
As for soldiers, no one died. Everyone was exhausted and injured, but after the medics team arrive, they should be patched up in the matter of minutes. If anything, the one suffering from the most injuries would be his buddy Minjun over there on the ground. The monster nicked him in the eye with a sharp claw on its way down and while the wound was fixable, it undoubtedly hurt.
“Our medic will be here any moment now,” he reassured, petting Minjun on the shoulder. “Here, have some of this tea.” Mark took off his thermo bottle and passed it over. It was peppermint tea, something he had to trade for with another fellow cadet using his last peanut butter granola bar.
"Also, good job Siwoo (@siwooumb).” He turned his eyes towards the one standing about two meters in front of them. When the monster collapsed and cut Minjun’s eye, this one was quick in putting himself in between his squad buddy and the source of danger. Very courageous - a trait that Mark admired and found valuable in a teammate, especially since Siwoo was brand new to Umbrella with only a few weeks of actual battlefield experience.
The monster was pretty much dead, but he had asked Siwoo to set it on fire a few more times, just to make sure. Afterwards, they only needed to cut the core out before calling it a day.
His hand was getting tired - Minjun had still not taken the tea.
...
Mark moved at the same time Minjun did and locked an arm around his squad mate’s neck. “Everything is okay, just kill the monster first!” These words were for the pyro boy.
How unfortunate, guess they couldn’t have a nice straight forward mission after all. The hint of gladness he felt earlier, all gone, replaced by frustration, concern and fear. “Minjun, it’s okay,” he said, pulling his straining squad mate closer, Minjun’s back against his chest. The other was struggling against him, quite violently too. “It’s Mark,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his usual calm voice. The thrashing, unfortunately, did not reduce in intensity.
The other soldiers, noticing the commotion, moved closer. Oh my god, someone whispered. Is this a turning? An actual turning?
As cadets, most of them had not witnessed turning. Mark himself had only learned it on paper as well, which was why he felt hesitation, even as he felt warm liquid running down his Minjun restraining arm. It could be from his eye wound, the gentler side of him insisted. But this much blood? Last time I checked, a cut like that wouldn’t make blood flow down like two rivers. The logical side followed, urging him to move.
Mark felt for his dagger with his free hand, fingers trembling.
“Has...has his blood turned black?” He asked the crowd. “Someone answer me.” They hesitated, and he waited. Someone has to be willing to speak...someone must share the burden of this murder with him.
