TW for child death, gore, and general human violence.
You swept your gun across the small room, scanning quickly for anyone before barking a quick “Clear!”.
Behind you, your squad leader replied “Delvine, go left down the hall, Price follow behind him.”
The two of you nodded and made your way towards the dark hallway, Price turning into the first doorway as you carried on past him.
It wasn’t your first tour of duty, but it was the first you’d seen some actual action in. Your first tour was doing bitch work at an operating base at the border of the conflict, pushing pencils and hauling boxes. Boring stuff that made even you wish someone would try to blow your ass up.
You weren’t the type to enlist to go kill brown folk for fun, you had a sense of duty. You wanted to save people, keep the peace. At the time, you thought peace was something that could be found at the end of a gun.
You kicked in the door, and quickly swept your gun across the small family huddled in what seemed to be their kitchen. An older woman, a teenage boy, and three smaller children hiding behind him. Non-combatants, non-threats. You barked a quick order in their native language to keep them against the back wall with their hands up. You saw no reason to open fire, the teenager was half your size and clearly unarmed.
You called down the hallway to the rest of your unit. “Five down here, civil-” a sharp blow to the back of your head cut you off.
“Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, where have you been?”
You looked up from the floor, through bleary eyes, at the old woman holding some sort of pan over you. You should have kept your helmet on. Your buddies called you a boot over insisting on it, it was so sweaty and wouldn’t stop a bullet anyway.
“Around the world and back again.”
A sharp noise, the woman fell back. Bright red blossomed from under her jaw, her head flipping back in a way you didn’t think the human body could.
“Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, how did you go?”
The teenager spasmed, his shirt tearing open across his midsection.
“In a C-130 flying low.”
He fell to the floor, one of the children behind him collapsing atop him. The other two had their mouths open like they were screaming, but all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.
“Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, how’d you get down?”
Something grabbed your vest, pulling you back towards the door as the last children fell down onto their siblings, a spray of dark red painting the wall behind them.
“With a -10 Bwavo big and wound!”
You blinked, and before you were a pair of orange hooves, stomping in time to the cadence.
“Aiwbowne Wangew, Aiwbowne Wangew, wha’ did ya do?”
“…Ranger?” You sat up from your kitchen floor slowly, your head throbbing.
“Daddeh!” He stepped carefully over a shattered jar on the floor. “Meanie pickwes hit daddeh on head!”
You put your hand to the growing lump on your forehead. “Yeah, thanks buddy. I should have known that shelf couldn’t handle them.”
“Do daddeh nee’ huggies?”
“…Yeah. I do.”
Ranger lept into your arms, humming along to the rest of the cadence while you stroked his mane. You were at home. In your kitchen. Sitting on the floor with your service fluff. It had been a long, long time since that day. You ran your fingers through his thick fluff, trying to focus on the soft fibers. You had done so much since that day, therapy and schooling, hospital stays and mountain climbing. The innocent family meeting their end because of your actions had faded somewhat, the details more fuzzy but the horror always there. There was no way to lock them away altogether, but you had things you could do to bring yourself back to the moment when you were reminded of them. Make you no longer Specialist Delvine and help you go back to being just Cash.
You were safe. You were home. In your kitchen. Sitting on the floor with Ranger.