Screams and gunfire rushed through (Y/N)'s mind as he tossed and turned in his sleeping bag. He shook in terror as memories of his past resurfaced, much more vividly than the last few times.
"Sis..." (Y/N) called out still asleep, sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry..."
When the apocalypse had been set into full swing, the (L/N) siblings remained together, never leaving each other behind. (Y/N) with his military training, provided safety and safe positions to sleep for the night. (S/N), on the other hand was a doctor, though she was a nurse at first. She provided medical care to her brother and the many people the duo came across.
However, the two would eventually be ripped apart on a fateful day.
On April 11, 2023, (Y/N) and his sister had found themselves a truck full of gas, the word 'jackpot' rolling around in their heads. (Y/N) took shotgun to provide covering fire if needed, and (S/N) took to driving. They were currently on the Trans Canada Highway, on course for the capital, Ottawa, unfortunately for them, they'd made it as far as 24% of the distance.
Their obstacle; a massive horde of undead.
"What do you say, little bro?" (S/N) asked while smiling, "let's bash some faces in, eh?"
(Y/N) merely loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle and pulled the firing pin back in response. His sister chuckled, then applied pressure to the gas. The truck lurched forward as (Y/N) began firing away at the undead. Many fell to the hail of hot lead, though many more were eradicated thanks to a grenade tossed in for good measure.
Standing prone on the roof of the truck, (Y/N) had an excellent firing arc as well as a good field of vision. He continued firing his rifle in small bursts, ensuring that little of the bullets miss their mark. While he can regenerate his ammunition, it takes its toll on his energy. If his ability was used too many times, he'd eventually fall unconscious.
(Y/N) stopped firing in order to reload, however he noticed something that would affect their survival chances drastically. The truck's engine had smoke spewing out from the side vents and the vehicle was slowing down rapidly.
The truck eventually came to a stop, its engine smoking heavily due to the repeated impacts against the front end. The horde, by that point had practically surrounded the truck. (Y/N) clambered to the cab of the truck and tried to evacuate his sister, but an undead had managed to get in halfway through the now broken windshield.
Using the butt of his rifle, (Y/N) smacked the undead off of the vehicle and pulled his sister out. As he did so, more of the undead appeared and grabbed at (S/N)'s legs.
"(Y/N)!" She screamed, "Help me!"
"Don't worry sis, I got you," (Y/N) grunted as he pulled with one hand and aimed his pistol with the other.
(Y/N) fired until the P226 was empty, then continued pulling until (S/N) screamed in pain, with tears streaming down her face.
She was bitten, and the undead had finally gotten a good grip on her.
All the youngest sibling could do, was watch as his sister slipped out of his grasp and into that of the cannibalistic creatures below...
(Y/N) sat up in his tent quickly, breathing heavily. His eyes grew thin as tears started to form, his mouth began to quiver. Having failed to put it behind him, that memory would seemingly continue to haunt the soldier for the rest of his days. He brought his knees up to his face, and wept tears that no one could ever see.
The special forces operator exited the tent a few minutes later, needing to clear up his head. He shuffled over to the roof's edge and stared down at the deserted parking lot. He then turned his gaze upwards and began observing his surroundings, taking note of anything of importance along the way. Seeing nothing of note, (Y/N) sat along the edge, dangling his feet over a wilted flowerbed while watching the clouds go by.
He huffed, then got himself onto his feet. Looking over to the tent, (Y/N) decided that he was going to pack it up along with the sleeping bag.
Once done, he slung 'Hellfire' over his shoulder and made his way off the roof towards the ground floor.
Walking out of the abandoned, mildew-filled motel, (Y/N) went towards the abandoned grocery store further down the road, on the other side of the overpass. Seeing no life ahead of him, the spec-ops operator trekked along the ruined road.
Suddenly, (Y/N) spotted a flash of light in the distance. Battle instincts taking over, the soldier took cover behind a burnt-out car as a bullet whizzed over his head.
Meanwhile, the shooter was hiding behind cover of his own, along with two others. All three wearing well kept military uniforms.
"Did you get him?" One said.
"No, William, I did not," the sniper growled.
"C'mon Damian, I thought you were the best marksman the Special Forces had to offer," the soldier identified as William teased.
"Piss off you cunt!"
"The fuck you say to me you little shit?!"
"I said-"
"Alright, that's enough you fuckheads," a new voice cut in, "focus on the goddamn target before he reaches our camp!"
"Yes, Erika," Damian stated lazily, "and to answer your question, William; I was the second best marksman. The one I couldn't beat in anything was Lieutenant (Y/N) (L/N). I couldn't beat him even at my hardest, that guy was hardcore. Had his arm torn off by debris from a bomb blast, a few months later, he comes back with a 'Terminator'-like arm and continues to wreck things like he always had."
"You never told me any of that, so why now?" William asked.
"First: you asked," Damian began as he scanned the car behind which the target had taken cover, "and second: that guy seemed to notice us just in time, dodging at what essentially was the last second. Only (Y/N) successfully pulled off that move in training."
The trio fell silent, unaware that their target; (Y/N) had hung off of the side of the overpass and crawled his way to a better location.
With the heavy backpack and his weapons, (Y/N) seemed unfazed as he grunted and groaned quietly whilst shuffling across. Once safely on the other side, (Y/N) hid his bag inside a wrecked Supra and proceeded towards the position his assaulters were hiding at.
Unslinging his C8A3, (Y/N) checked the magazine, finding it to be full, continued ahead while in a crawl. His digital green camouflaged uniform helped him blend in slightly to conceal his movements.
Hearing voices further up, (Y/N) tensed up and moved his head up slowly to get a better view of those chatting. Grass obscuring his view, (Y/N) could only see the patchwork of clothing that resembled similarly to his. Moving closer, but considerably slower, (Y/N) spotted a faint maple leaf outline on his assaulter's sleeve.
They were army!... or at least they gave off the impression. They definitely possessed the knowledge on how to construct fortifications, and the sniper that nearly took (Y/N)'s head off had waited to the last possible second to fire a round. That was one possibility that worried him.
The attackers were highly experienced, he could tell that much.
Still hiding behind their pieces of cover, the three soldiers conversed cautiously.
"I think the guy thought twice and left," Damian stated while relaxing slightly.
"Hmm, well don't let your guard down," Erika advised, "those that let their guard down first, die first."
"Yes, ma'am," the sniper muttered as he took back to aiming, but then he stopped, "you hear that?"
"What?" William asked.
"Listen," Damian stated, "on the left."
"I'll check it out," Erika said, gripping her suppressed P226, "Will, watch 'Longshot' over here. I'll be back in a few."
"Copy," the rifleman affirmed.
Satisfied, Erika softly marched towards the source of the noise. She walked slowly, unaware of (Y/N)'s intentions. He stared at her, analyzing her movements, her clothing and her weapons. When he spotted an opening he lunged forwards, clamped a hand over her mouth and held 'Old Reliable' against her temple.
"Make so much as a squeak, you can say goodbye to your brains," (Y/N) growled hoarsely due to not having used his voice much over the past three years.
Erika nodded nervously, no longer having an advantage. Her only weapon had been dropped into the tall grass, and her knife was on the rear of her left thigh. She couldn't reach it without alerting her captor, so she decided to play along to ensure her safety.
"Good to see that you can listen," (Y/N) wheezed slightly, "alright, I'm going to walk you to your friends, then, we will all have a nice conversation. If not... well... none of us are getting out alive."
As he finished his sentence, the operator held a frag grenade into Erika's field of view. Her eyes widened as the realization that her captor was a potential psychopath sunk into her cranium.
Walking towards her friends, (Y/N) kept the pistol pressed against Erika's head, however with the safety on. He didn't want to kill unnecessarily, especially since he had a powerful bargaining chip within his grasp.
Eventually, the duo came into sight of the other two soldiers whom immediately leapt to their feet and aimed their weapons. William's being a C8A3 while Damian aimed a spare Sig.
"Let go of her!" Damian demanded, his breathing becoming heavy.
"You're in no fucking position to make demands," (Y/N) stared harshly, "I've got your friend, Erika, at gun point. I've also got a grenade in my other hand, ready to pull. So better think twice about what you're gonna do next!"
Damian looked conflicted. He glanced to his brother, William for help, though the ex-JTF2 recruit stared the aggressor down. Damian then looked back to Erika whom nodded subtly.
Steeling his nerves, Damian lowered his weapon. William glanced over in surprise, but followed his elder brother's actions. (Y/N) smiled under his mask.
"Glad to see that we could come to a peaceful conclusion," he said as he holstered his pistol, "now... I believe introductions are in order."
(Y/N) then removed his helmet, an action that surprised the trio. When done, (Y/N) was about to speak but Damian beat him to it.
"(Y/N)?"
Instantly narrowing his eyes, (Y/N) instantly put his guard up.
"How do you know my name?!" (Y/N) hissed.
"Woah, dude, chill," Damian said putting his hands up and backing away cautiously, "it's me, Damian Harris? You know, the Second Lieutenant in the 'Flaming Falcons'?"
(Y/N) thought back to his operations where he worked in a group.
"Damian... you the Lieutenant that accidentally snorted baking-soda thinking it was cocaine? Back in that hell hole in Africa?" (Y/N) asked sceptically.
"Yeah, that's me," Damian said, scratching his head sheepishly at the memory.
William looked at his brother wide-eyed.
"You snorted baking-soda?!"
Damian looked back at his brother, "Yeah, I was getting kinda desperate back then... it fucking hurt actually."
Erika, now free from her prison stared at Damian, then smacked him on the back of the head.
"Dumbass," she said, a look of disgust on her face.
"Your dumbass," Damian corrected with a wink.
"Don't flirt on the job," (Y/N) cut in, "after all, shouldn't you be guarding this pla-"
Suddenly falling silent, the original three then watched in helpless horror as blood shot out of the side of (Y/N)'s head.
"Shit! Bandits!" Erika shouted as she took cover. Damian and his brother quickly followed suit.
"Damn it!" Damian cursed, "we fucking jinxed ourselves!"
"Shut up and return fire!" William shouted as more bullets flew over their heads.
As the trio entered the engagement with the bandits, (Y/N)'s body, uniform and weapons all disappeared, leaving only ash and camping supplies after a bright light covered the area.
Taking it as a flashbang, the trio immediately shut their eyes in order to preserve their vision.
Meanwhile, in an unfamiliar forest, (Y/N) found himself lying down on some dead leaves, and with a massive migraine. Turning over onto his back, he was greeted by the feeling of his rifle and pistol sitting under him.
"Ah, fffuck," the soldier cursed, "what the hell happened...?"
Then, a thought occurred to him. He was parched. He needed water. Badly.
Picking up his weapons, and placing them in the correct spots, (Y/N) shuffled frantically in a random direction in search for water.
Coming by a lake a few minutes later, (Y/N) broke into a sprint and removed his helmet before pinging his face into the cool liquid, cleanliness be damned. Coming back up with a coughing fit, (Y/N) felt refreshed. Sighing, he went to put his helmet back onto his head, but noticed his reflection on the water's surface.
Upon closer investigation, (Y/N) identified the reflection as his, however at the prime of his relatively short life. He appeared to be 17 again. But it couldn't be! (Y/N) still possessed his prosthetic arm and his scars from the missions he undertook.
Stumbling back in shock, (Y/N) placed his hand on his face.
"This has got to be a hallucination," he muttered to himself.
Then with a chuckle, which eventually turned into raucous laughter, (Y/N) realized the situation he was in. He had been brought into a nearby forest by the other three soldiers, and left there when they thought he died. He was alone. In a forest. Far from civilization.
He couldn't be more wrong...