LUCAS the BETRAYED [[The Red Queen Fan Fiction]]

That which don't kill me will try again

For three months my body was hammered in combat training. Even though I was just as beat, bruised, and dirty as them, the Red soldiers ignored me. Some out of fear, but most out of anger. They only smiled at me when we sparred, a grotesque fighting match, one-on-one. My fists splattered Red blood on floor of the arena, but they drew an equal amount of my Silver blood as well. Mostly because I let them.

Every night in the chow-hall the Captain would bark a new list of names of the recently "honorably deceased." And every night someone was in tears for their brother, sister, father, or friend. When they fought me in the ring, they didn't see just me. They saw the man who killed their beloved. They healed when I bled.

But it wasn't all self-sacrifice. My dreams became a barrage of nightmares, mostly of losing Charlotte. I could only watch Charlotte in the house I built—the forest burning around her. My uncles eyes smile through the flames as they engulf our safe place, but when a Red knocks me out, I sleep like a rock. At least until morning, when the splitting headache wakes me before the sounding alarm.

They were happy to punch me. And I was glad to be knocked out. But when they realized I needed it as badly as they did, they stopped. So I stopped taking the hits. After three months, we graduated from training as hardened men and women. We were approved to join the soldiers in the combat zone.

My squadron was positioned on the south tip of the war zone. Although the fighting was constant I knew it was nothing like the horrors up north. When my boots finally crunched the soil of the front lines, I realized how much the media hides. I thought there would be some progress, but after hundreds of years we fight to hold the same lines as our great-grandfathers.

For days we would fire our guns, throw some bombs, then wait as the enemy fired their guns and threw some bombs back. We began the morning as usual—randomly firing into fog so thick I could barely see the soldiers by my side. Just when I started to understand the dance, they changed record.

First we heard a shriek, like the terrible sound of a woman dying. Then I felt it. A surge of metal on the edge of the atmosphere, diving towards us. 

"Get down!" I screamed, and raised my hands. It was coming too fast, too hard. Whenever I thought I had it in my grasp it pulled away again.  I held my breath and begged it to speak with me, but it refused.

I may die. But you will listen.

I felt it drop another 300 feet, but it was slowing. My knuckles turned white and Silver blood flood my face. It was working. It burst through the fog above us like a small, black tear. It would hit the center of the clearing—the center—where the captain stood.

"Move!" Someone shouted.

"Get out of the way!" Like it would help.

The captain dove and crawled on his back, helpless to watch as the bomb descended towards him like a steady train. He screamed and crunched his eyes as the missile kissed his forehead.

I have you.

My neck sprained as I froze 1600 kg in the air. Silence fell over us as Red soldiers realized they were still alive.

"Where..should I...put this?" I grunted. Cheers erupted but no one answered. I had an idea. A crazy idea.

With what was left of my strength, I pushed the missile back into the sky. I pushed it until I felt it teeter on the edge of my control. Confident we were safe, I clapped my hands together. On cue the sky erupted in a beautiful burst of yellow, blue, and purple spirals. The cheers paused to watch for a moment, then our soldiers shouted even louder. I marveled at the colors.