Several minutes had already passed since my dust-up with Lexa began. And through each strike, I'm reminded of the similarities that made Lexa and me such good friends. Like how our shared stubbornness, love of fitness, and passion for both wrestling/boxing fueled our current deadlock. Dozens of powerful punches connected in perfect sync, quaking the entire cabin to its core.

Upon the umpteenth swing, I wondered why we remained in a stalemate Years of doing missions in that damn armor has kinda made me an expert on getting hit. Bullets and good ole fistcuffs were like harsh "love taps." Knives make me feel itchy if they don't go through, you get the idea. Explosions are the worst, though, not because of the flames, shrapnel, or wind-knocking force. Those are usually a piece of chocolate cake.

The aftermath is always the worst part, the time when all the chaos ends, and all you're left to do is pick up the pieces. Through a combination of shared instinct or maybe fortunate luck, Elise deadened the explosion's reach using her jacket while Joe tried his best to cover the rest of us with Sharmeen's broken shield. Their last words will forever haunt me. If only because Joe was watching too much anime.

"Assurez-vous d'avoir mon bon côté,"

"Kami wa kono orokamono o reisei ni sa sete kudasaimashita."

Two sacrifices that made the weight of our new weapons all the heavier as we trudged back into the shanty town. Lexa's fresh wounds and words on us taxed us so severely that we almost forgot we still had mis- I mean, game to do. Something Scribe forcefully reminded us about.

"We're now officially halfway through, and it seems the game has entered its final stage already! While we couldn't get all the footage it seems the big blowout in the armory has cut them down by half. And with their lone lookout taken out by the ever-petulant Paladin, it seems it's still very much anyone's game!"

Over the crackle of residual static, Sharmeen broke the ice.

"What are we going to do James?"

Trying to keep things as chipper as I could, I bluntly responded.

"I don't know, that question is usually in your neck of the woods."

"But, you work with the Paladin all the time."

"Yeah, shouldn't you know her like the back of your hand?," Zoey chimed

"True, but Sarah knows the back of my whole body. Any plan I come up with she'll either expect or come up with a counter. She's fiercely intelligent like you Sharmeen, I think you would like h-."

"JAMES! So not the point," Sharmeen said as she started moving in front of me, "Cause if you can't even beat her, then that means she's going to keep picking us off one by."

Her rant got interrupted by a fatal click, which petrified us all; Sharmeen froze like a statue as I kneeled to see her foot on a hidden landmine. The world's biggest "Duh" then rattled in my noggin as I realized the other Fatales would've provided a deep enough distraction for Sarah to procure the needed weapons. Still, I kept my voice about as measured as the flour I use for a souffle (damn it, now I'm hungry)

"Don't move Sharmeen. I think I can get you out of there."

"No, don't bother James."

Whatever composure our leader had instantly buckled down as she was still keeping pressure on the landmine. Fresh tears descended like dew through both her hijab and her next words.

"Just stop. Leave me alone here. All I'm going to do is drag you down. Lexa was right; this is your team, not mine. You've always been the better choice to lead, " she said, balling up even further.

Once again, I found leadership hanging over me like a noose, and under its weight, I couldn't help but get dragged back into the past, kicking and screaming. Because of Sharmeen and Lexa's accolades, I don't think my start was more different than anyone else's. It was Lexa's intense eye that set her sights on me. It was that damn arm wrestling match that somehow got the attention of "them."

The notice of my first "team" and my home away from home: The Artillery. To all of Titan, they were the best of the best, a squadron of soldiers clad in hardy armor and far stronger resolve. To me, though, they were a family, a set of rowdy goofballs who somehow always shouted louder than the bullets.

Yet no matter how impossible the mission seemed, victory always came to our lap with its celebration. Whether it be some backwater bar or even the comfort of our homes, we partied like we had no tomorrow—a lovely lifestyle leading to me meeting my lovely wife and greeting my lovelier daughter. Like my grandfather, I can confidently say that I owe everything I am to them. And it tears me apart, I'll never be able to pay them back.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Since, like any win streak, it had to end eventually, except this time, the loss was unimaginable. It was supposed to be a simple manhunt, a routine we've done dozens of times over when we entered that damn warzone expecting the usual gunman and merc. Only to end up in the middle of a massive, soul-shattering boom. When the medics and Pagers got me out of the rubble three days later, they said I was "lucky" one.

The feeling wasn't mutual. And as I stood aside the mountains worth of condolences, as I buried friends that might as well have been brothers, as I checked in on their families every step of the way, I just felt even more guilty. I didn't know I was playing because I cheated in a game.

So, I tried to split the "difference," I tried living more and fighting more to be the "soldier" everyone needed from me. To be the man I wasn't for them when they were alive. I would've been well on my way if I didn't fall into paintball. If I didn't see Sharmeen and the rest of the dogs, the same light the Artillery had.

Suppose I didn't see the chance to have all the fun of my job without getting shot at. Because despite all the pain Titan's given me, I'm still thankful I'm here. Still thankful I can keep reaching out. I got to. Because it through these chains of the past I can at least interwine with the people still here and now. In resolution, I decided to let my actions do the talking.

"Zoey, can you hand me your shield?"

"Sure thing," she said as she unstrapped herself.

"Thanks, Zoe; now you might want to step back."

Already realizing what crazy concoction I conjured, Zoey immediately fell back as I backed up and called out to my fearful leader.

"Brace yourself, Sharmeen, because I'm coming!"

I then launched myself at her, replaying every long jump I had in my mind as I charged straight into Sharmeen. Once we were airborne, I used whatever momentum I had to cover her with the riot shield. As reddened rain coated my back while Sharmeen sat in awe, I finally found my answer.

"What makes me the better choice?"

"What?"

"What makes me the better choice to lead?"

My follow-up question shook Sharmeen out of her funk long enough to answer.

"Because you have more experience."

"That's only because I've been here longer, time will make the difference."

"You're stronger than us."

"Yeah, because of lucky genetics and a not so special diet."

"You're braver tha-."

"Than you? Bullshit. I'm the one who managed to stare down the queen of the Femme Fatales by their lonesome. That was all you, my friend," I said with an exuberant nudge.

Sharmeen tried to hide her blushing.

"Look, Sharmeen, no matter what crazy Greek lady says, I'm not some monolith and this is not my team. Or even yours for that matter. We both only got this far through all the people that've pushed us forward. So whether we win or lose, we'll be in it together. I can at least promise you that."

Sharmeen tears of despair instantly bloomed to joy as she belted out a playful chuckle.

"Do you practice these speeches in a mirror, or are you just that good?"

A sense of pride bubbled within me as I smiled back.

"Benefits of having a big mouth I guess."

"Well, it's definitely working."

Zoey, from a distant tree, then chimed in."

"Are you two okay out there?"

"Better than okay; Zoey, James, and I were just discussing our next move."

"Oh, sick, I'm all ears."

I then held my teammate's hand and said

"So am I."

Half an hour zoomed by as a new stage was set during the final act, with the scribe providing the perfect narration.

"We've reached the home stretch सब लोग! The Dogs of War have been sitting pretty as cashmere, leaving the Paladin to take her steps and finish this game in a spectacular fashion. This could be one match for the archives folks so don't you dare touch that hidden frequency."

The same shanty town suddenly adopted a cinematic feel when we entered the main stage. Like we were in the middle of a climatic duel in the Old West. This was accurate, though I doubt Clint Eastwood or John Wayne ever had to deal with toys like ours. With my brand spanking new sniper rifle, I scoped down Zoey from another water tower during her massive entrance. It started with a bang and then got a new meaning as 4,000 rounds of hex code #000000 barreled through several buildings.

"COME OUT! PALADIN," Zoey said as she toted her minigun with the ease of the baseball, "THE OTHER'S MAY BE SCARED BUT I'M SURE AS SHIT NOT!!"

Her thunderous steps boomed across the paintball field as she kept her gun, both muzzles hot in more ways than one.

"WHAT'S WRONG PALADIN, TOO CHICKEN TO HANDLE SOME REAL POWER WHEN YOU SEE IT!"

All those months back, though, Joe paid off for Zoey as Sarah decided to make her presence known. Every hair on my back stood like a quill as I saw Sarah do what she did best in real-time: surpassing expectations.

"Zoey, look out!"

My plea was already in vain, though, as like a murder of crows, several grenades chocked full of pain descended from on high. Zoey valiantly tried shooting them out of the air, but that only made things worse as several bombs exploded in mid-air, covering her in a downpour of ruby red. Any chance of Zoey's making a last-minute play instantly went up in vapor as the remaining nodes fell to the ground.

Causing a violent reaction to the paint mines we couldn't quite catch, several geysers of paint rose like red wine. The blast was so powerful even my vantage point wasn't safe, as I immediately sacrificed my sniper rifle and dove for the ground. Unfortunately, I didn't quite have Sarah or Shameer's skill, forcing me to haphazardly flail towards the middle of the arena while collecting an array of scrapes for good measure. Between the paint and my now dusty, bloodshot eyes, I saw nothing but a crimson cloud that carried a far too familiar voice.

"Nice of you to drop in on James. Long time no see."

Against the searing pain, I couldn't help but spread the dopiest grin at my friend's comment as I somehow found a way to pick myself up again. Brushing the dust off my eyes made me see that Sarah had a brand new look even through the paint. Red splotches drenched Sarah's team uniform like bloodstains, a scene not too unfamiliar for Sarah.

There were some differences, though. Her beautiful curly hair was a little more cleaned up, her nails were painted red properly for the occasion, and the right side of her shirt was adorned with a small asexual flag pin despite mobbing through almost half of us without any effort. However, Sarah wasn't doing much better than us.

One of her fingers had a solid splint, and a brace was on her foot. Both injuries she got from her time in London, no doubt. Of course, I wasn't exactly a spring chicken either; Lexa did my freshly repaired ribs no favors. Still, it didn't stop me from greeting my friend.

"Right back at you Sarah, loving the look."

"Thanks, I thought I'd try a new look."

"And a new team I see."

"Yeah, frankly I wanted to stay out of this, but Alexandria can be very persuasive."

While Sarah kept talking, I started rearing myself up like an engine. After a quick crack of the back, I immediately headed towards the dark red cloud. Every step carried more purpose behind it as rays of afternoon sunlight started to peek through my back, lighting the way as Sarah and I got within our distance.

"Yeah, she really can be, I've been trying to get you into paintball for months now."

"Well, I'm here now."

"That you are."

An awkward silence consumed us as we measured each other up through glances. We then exchanged some glances.

"I'll stay away from your ribs and vitals. I'd hate to put you in the hospital again."

"Thanks, by proxy I'll stay away from leg and finger."

"Much appreciated."

Like it was any old sparring match, we then started to tense ourselves while giving one last pleasantry as the crowd of holograms reached its peak.

"You know, I really did miss you Sarah."

My partner replied without hesitation.

"Same here James."

We then started a fight that'll be in the history books.