I look in the scratched mirror and as always, seeing the small circular scar under my right eye. I didn’t hate that scar it was a reminder to not make stupid decisions. My long brown hair was a big mess like always, but there was only so much I could do to it with an old battered brush whose bristles don’t even stand up anymore. My bright blue eyes also look dead to the world. After many years in the army, I still haven’t gotten used to waking up before the sun is up.

I tuck my shirt into my pants and give myself my daily mental reminder not to piss off my Sargent today, because hours running extra drills was something I didn’t want to do it today.

Today was maintenance day and we had to clean all our gear. It took so many hours and we got checked afterwards to see if we did it right. God help you if you didn’t clean your kit right. I hate this part of being a soldier.

Cleaning my long-range riffle has become second nature to me. That was the easy part. I once blind folded myself and took it apart and reassembled it in 10 seconds. I have no idea if that is impressive, but it got me a victory pint for doing it.

“Come on Ainsley, can the little girl not do it?” Those were fighting words from a fellow soldier. Safe to say that I made him regret those words.

One thing that I had to get use to years ago when I joined the academy was women were viewed as frail little creatures than were afraid of breaking a nail. And second, if you couldn’t preform as well as the men it meant packing up and leaving.

I proved them all that I was more than able to keep up with the men and do more than what was expected of me. Any time I heard the women say “That’s right you show them that women are better than men” I wanted to smack them. I didn’t do this so I could prove anything to anyone. I did this for me, for Queen and for country.

I was two hours into cleaning my gear and I left my riffle, Jolene for last. I blew through the barrel to get rid of any residual dust. While I was doing that some of my fellow soldier walked in and saw me with the barrel still close to my lips. “You don’t need to do that to your gun Ainz, I got a pipe that always ready for you.”

“Fuck you.” I say with a smile to my friend, Corporal Richard Pots.

“Anytime Love.”

He walks to my table and takes a seat opposite me. “You just get back? That was quick.” I freeze at his statement.

Yes, this mission had been fast and easy. My finger had barely touched the trigger and my target had been killed in a split second. I loved serving my country, but the fact that my kill count keeps increasing doesn’t sit well with me. I kill for my country, it doesn’t mean I like doing it. Anyone who does should not be here. We don’t take lives out of some sick enjoyment, we do it because we have no other choice. As a sniper, I know that more than most.

“Yeah, that’s why I get all off your missions too.” I quip and Richard kicks me under the table.

“Don’t be a bitch, Ainz. How long do you have until you’re finished? I’ll buy you a shot of something strong.” He offers and I smile gratefully.

“Oh Richie, talk dirt to me like that and I just might blow your pipe.” He snorts and punches me in the shoulder. “Another ten minutes and I will put my gun away and come join you guys.”

“Don’t keep us waiting Ainz. I still need to kick your ass in pool.” Another soldier, Foley says from next to Richie. He slings his arm over Richie’s shoulder and gives me an arrogant smile.

“I will gladly shoot myself in the foot if you ever beat me in pool.”

“Well, then better bring your gun with you tonight.” I flip them both the bird and they walk away after telling me to hurry up.

I rub my eyes and stare at the table for a few seconds.

“Beta to Alpha. I have a clear shot.”

“You have permission to shoot, Beta.”

“Understood Alpha. Taking the shot.”

I shiver when I remember how the body of my target hit the floor. I hate this feeling and I hope I never come to a point in my life where I get used to pulling the trigger. I shudder to think what kind of person that would make me. I can only feel this after the mission is over. Allowing myself to hesitate when I fire is a death sentence. I dig deep for that part of my mind that blocks out any and all emotions I don’t need in that moment. When I take the shot I always feel numb and it doesn’t go away until my feet touch the safety of the soil from this camp and Winch my Sargent welcomes me home.

Whether who I kill needs to be killed I still think about them as a human being, as someone who had a family. This time my target could have been someone’s Father, brother, son or best friend. It was a life that doesn’t exist anymore.

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“I need beer.” I mumble and quickly put Jolene back together. I put her back in the case and I carry it back to my room. The faster I finish here the faster I can get sozzled and have my head in the toilet by the end of the night. This guilt can join tomorrows for now. I can’t deal with this reality right now.

However, no matter how drunk I get I still don’t forget that one day I might be on someone’s kill list as well. It’s a fact you always remember when you join the army and its one I carry with me every damn day. It doesn’t scare me one bit, in fact that thought brings me some comfort.

In the ground silence and peace will ensue.

“Sargent Ainsley, how would a promotion sound to you?” My Sargent Derek Winchester asks me

suddenly.

I stand to attention in front of his desk concealing my confusion and very...very bad hang over. “A promotion to what, sir?” I ask gulping the sick back down.

“For fucks sake. How much did you drink last night, Ainsley?”

“Couldn’t tell you, sir. Some of it was yellow though.” I say trying to remember what Richie and Foley kept pouring in my glass. “Dear Lord, I hope it wasn’t piss.” I shiver thinking about that possibility, Richie was a dick for pulling shit like that.

“If it was you deserve it.” He says shaking his head in disproval, but with a hint of a smirk on the corner of his lip. I guess he wasn’t talking to me as my Sargent right now. Winch was an old family friend who despite his urges for me to pick another career, couldn’t persuade me to pick something other than the army. He was like a second father to me unlike my own father who disowned me when I turned up at our house with a uniform on.

I sit down in the chair Winch gestured at and I take a deep breath trying to collect myself. “I bet even you couldn’t shoot a wall if I lined you in front of it.”

I laughed at that statement because he was right. “You’re right, but if you want to test that out, line Derek and Foley against that wall and see how good my aim is.”

“Don’t blame those pissers for this. You’re lucky I don’t make you sweat this hang over out.” I straighten up feeling my stomach doing cart wheels.

“Yeah, yeah.” I say dismissively. “What’s this about a promotion?” I ask.

Winch takes off his hat and throws it on his desk. Well, shit this must be serious. Winch never takes off any part of his uniform. For one reason, his uniform is his pride and second as soldiers it doesn’t matter where we are stationed or what the weather is like we aren’t allowed not to wear our uniform.

“I got an email from some private sector in the US.”

“Fuck that, Winch. I don’t do private work.”

“Trust me when I say that your skills would be well wasted there.” I bite my lip at that statement. “But the man I spoke to, Colonel Gerald Shithead, asked to speak to you personally. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s coming here tomorrow to speak to you.”

“Winch, no!” I moan and the sudden movement of me standing up sent my head spinning so violently I tripped and fell straight back into the chair.

“Look at me Ainz.” I rub my eyes and look at Winch. “I accepted because I think you need this.”

“I don’t need to work for the US military.”

“It’s an opportunity you don’t get every day. Who knows what perks this job will come with? They sought you out, they know how good you are.”

“Offer them Richard. He is as good of a shot as I am. We may joke about how I steal his work, but we know he is a damn good.”

“You don’t think I did that already. Not just him I offered him every other sniper we had, but they wanted you.” Winch says exasperated.

“Why?” I ask feeling the dread overtake me. This conversation was only heading one way. I was definitely attending this interview. It was a done deal by the sounds of it. Winch had pretty much accepted this job on my behalf.

“They knew about you. They asked me questions about your survival training and asked how you feel about working with a partner.” That caught my attention.

“Partner, as in singular?”

“I don’t know any of the specific details yet. The man was brief and wouldn’t let me in on any information about what position they even wanted you for.”

“Sounds more like a classified unit than the private sector.” I think out loud. “Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want to talk to them.”

“Ainz, they didn’t give either of us much of a choice. The order came from high up. We have no right to refuse.”

“Bullocks!” I exclaim jumping out of my seat. Not in anger, but in amazement. “This might be an order from the President?” I ask and Winch supresses a laugh.

“Can’t exactly rule that possibility out. I called around and asked some old contacts about this guy and almost all of them said not to fight him on this. It also didn’t help that the phone call I had with Colonel Gerald wasn’t an open conversation. It was more of a “these are the facts and you will listen” kind of conversation.” I purse my lips realizing that was why Winch had referred to him as “Colonel Gerald Shithead”. Winch wasn’t a fan of being told what to do.

“Any idea of what I have to expect from this interview?” Winch shook his head.

“Probably a few questions, nothing unusual.” I fold my arms and start to process this. “Ainsley, I think you’re a terrific soldier and I would hate to lose you. But if this leads you higher up the ladder where you can do the most good then don’t waste it.” He pleads.

“I do what I do for my own country, not theirs.”

“You pull that trigger because it saves lives and that won’t change no matter where you do it.”

I take a deep breath accepting this. It’s not like I wasn’t curious about what this interview could offer me, I just hated the idea of leaving home Mum and Dad where still here. Although, being deployed took me too many different countries I always knew I was coming home after it was over. The way Winch had described this job it sounded permanent.

“What time do I have to be ready tomorrow?” Winch smiles and gets up walking around his desk towards me.

“Be ready at 0800.” He smiles and gives me a big hug which I return by burying my face in his soft chest. “You know your Dad hated me for telling you our war stories when you were a bairn, so did your Mum. Sometimes that woman was scarier than any revolver that was pointed at my head.” I snorted and looked up at him.

“No matter how hard it was to both of them I wanted to be a hero like you and Dad.”

“You are one.” Winch and my own eyes mist and I give him another long hug. “You better make sure you live long enough to tell your brats your war stories too.”

I detach from him and I salute my Sargent one last time. Because somehow, I knew that after tomorrow. I wasn’t coming back.

“YES SIR!”