* Soldier 17 

Perspiration slid down the intruder’s neck as I observed him from my perch above. Several emotions transitioned across his face as I surveyed his poorly concealed attempt to break in: anxiousness, dread, frustration, confusion, and finally fear. Fear has the special quality of being simple and yet so complex. Such an extremely irrational reaction to the unknown and yet so personal to some. Out of all other emotions fear always stood out among the crowd, especially the smell. A sour and sharp scent like the very start of dairy products expiring with the taste of lemonade not quite sweet. I still needed further analysis to understand the many nuances of the emotion.  

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I inhaled deeply for a moment, waiting for when the scent was strongest, then made my descent. As he dropped the lock pick and I descended upon him, his face changed into absolute terror as my silhouette engulfed his vision. In one clean motion, I withdrew my blade and struck like a surgeon, precise and clinical. But it happened once again, my perspective abruptly changed, and I felt the blade slice through my own throat. Blood began rushing forward, like a waterfall, from the thin slit of white-hot pain at the front of my neck. The pain spreading from the wound numbed my other senses as I fell on my knees giving way to the poison laced along the unforgiving steel.