Inferno

1 - Battlescars

Slowly, he trudged through the snow to the only glimmer of hope he had. No longer did he have the energy to jump around and run; temperatures were dropping, and the deaths of his teammates were weighing just a bit heavily on his heart. He felt numb inside, and it wasn't from the snow.

One foot after the other. One foot after the other. That was all he had to focus on right now- was all he could focus on right now.

Suddenly, he heard the whir of machinery nearby. He stopped moving, hoping his whitish armor would help him camouflage against the snow.

Nothing happened.

Very slowly, he swiveled his head to the right towards the noise he'd heard. He spotted nothing for a moment; then he spied a very small bit of movement beyond the trees in front of him; large and grey. A Titan? It didn't seem to be going anywhere.

He analyzed his options. He could continue to trek ahead, and have a very small chance of finding the outpost; or he could announce himself to the Titan, and assuming it was IMC, it could help him and give him potentially a guarantee of survival. That is, if he beat the 50/50 odds first of it being Militia.

Screw it. 50/50 was still better than the ten percent chance he had of making it on his own.

He changed direction, and began to move towards the trees. Upon reaching them, he pushed past them until he stood in a snowy clearing. A Titan of dark blue-gray color was kneeling in the snow, its back turned to him. He couldn't see what class it was, but it seemed to be one of the more average sized varieties.

His boot suddenly made a crunching noise against the snow. He froze, preparing for the Titan to whip around and attack him. But if it took notice of him, it did not show it.

Curious, he began to make his way around the side of it, so that he could see the front. It was revealed to be an Ion class, and he soon saw why it was kneeling.

A single pilot was laid out on the ground in front of it. Garbed in Militia colors, he couldn't help but feel a bit of unease as he came to a stop. His white armor was easily visible; but the Titan seemed completely engrossed with the pilot on the ground, watching over him in a protective position.

Tobias couldn't say what compelled him to inch forward; but he did. Soon, he was standing over the fallen pilot, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to breathe. Blood stained the snow around him, casting one spot of imperfection among the pure white that was undisturbed everywhere else.

The pilot turned towards him, and seemed to stiffen slightly upon seeing the IMC armor he was wearing. Then, he slightly relaxed when he recognized that Tobias wasn't the officer that had shot him. He went back to his labored breathing, and beckoned to Tobias with one hand.

He was still less than comfortable with his current position, but something drove him to obey. Kneeling down, he gave the pilot one of his hands. Shakily, the pilot pulled Tobias' arm towards his chest where he was wounded. In an instant, the palm of his glove was slick with blood.

Tobias understood what the pilot was saying; you may not have dealt the killing blow, but you still fought with the ones who did.

Then the pilot did something unexpected; he grabbed Tobias' hand again, and this time gripped it with his remaining strength like one would a friend; he held Tobias as an ally for a moment.

This time, Tobias was shocked at what he understood. Still, we are both human; and if we can act as friends rather than foes, perhaps there is still a chance for peace.

Tobias nodded his understanding. Both of them had lost friends in this battle, but the pilot was willing to put that aside, despite being the only one of the two actually dying. He continued to hold the hand of the pilot as his grip slowly became weaker... and weaker...