.040 Sight
[.040 Sight]
Sydney Alexis
Summary: After a stint in the Marines, Gus will never be the same again.
Pale, shaking hands reached out towards the seemingly innocent looking rope. His fingers wrapped around the cord, and, with new found determination, he pulled five times -- one for each year lost of his life.
Gus remembers the first time he killed a man with perfect clarity.
He was 18 then. Fresh out of high school and signed up to join the Marines rather than waiting to be plucked off by the draft.
He and his platoon were investigating a satellite anomaly when an enemy patrol picked them up. Gus, sent to scout out ahead, heard the shots ringing across the desert. His walkie-talkie blared to life.
His team was pinned in a foxhole.
Without a second thought, Gus scoped across the valley and caught sight of the shooter. A man -- no, a child not more than twelve -- wielding an automatic weapon and nearing his platoon.
Taking a deep breath, Gus lined up the cross-hairs and squeezed the trigger.
By the time the shot echoed through the valley, the bullet had already ploughed through the boy's skull.
At boot camp, they used clean labels like hostiles and targets, but it was a wholly different thing to aim a weapon and fire at another living being.
It was a lesson learned only after experience.
One he didn't understand until that day. Until then, it had been running and drills and hours in a firing range.
Until that day, he'd been an innocent.
The boy crumbled to the ground never to move on his own again.
The absolute silence that filled that valley was scarier than the bullets that had been ricocheting off of rocks not but a moment before.
His CO didn't say a word when Gus sicked up beside the boulder he'd taken cover by.
He never found out the boy's name. Never knew if he'd willingly entered into this war or was forced by circumstance like Gus himself had. In fact, he never learned that about any of those he killed, but, as the war dragged on, so too did his body count. And, while he could remember that first time, after awhile, they all began to blur together.
The years passed in a mish-mash of both incredibly slow, horrible months of deployment and all-too-brief respites at home.
But even the comforts of home were difficult. He found himself resenting the people there and how they complained about stupid things like running out of cereal or not putting the toilet seat down. He couldn't relate to them any more because he knew what it was to not have food for days when supply lines were cut or to piss in the middle of the desert, terrified he'd be plucked off while his hands were busy.
He also didn't remember what it was like to not watch every shadow for enemies nor jump at every little sound.
When finally finally the prerequisite number of years were complete, Gus found himself on-base for the last time. After ringing the bell signaling the end of his tenure in the Marines, he saluted his CO, turned on his heel, and left his service career behind.
But his life wound never be the same.
fanfic100: 56/100
Sydney Alexis
Summary: After a stint in the Marines, Gus will never be the same again.
Pale, shaking hands reached out towards the seemingly innocent looking rope. His fingers wrapped around the cord, and, with new found determination, he pulled five times -- one for each year lost of his life.
Gus remembers the first time he killed a man with perfect clarity.
He was 18 then. Fresh out of high school and signed up to join the Marines rather than waiting to be plucked off by the draft.
He and his platoon were investigating a satellite anomaly when an enemy patrol picked them up. Gus, sent to scout out ahead, heard the shots ringing across the desert. His walkie-talkie blared to life.
His team was pinned in a foxhole.
Without a second thought, Gus scoped across the valley and caught sight of the shooter. A man -- no, a child not more than twelve -- wielding an automatic weapon and nearing his platoon.
Taking a deep breath, Gus lined up the cross-hairs and squeezed the trigger.
By the time the shot echoed through the valley, the bullet had already ploughed through the boy's skull.
At boot camp, they used clean labels like hostiles and targets, but it was a wholly different thing to aim a weapon and fire at another living being.
It was a lesson learned only after experience.
One he didn't understand until that day. Until then, it had been running and drills and hours in a firing range.
Until that day, he'd been an innocent.
The boy crumbled to the ground never to move on his own again.
The absolute silence that filled that valley was scarier than the bullets that had been ricocheting off of rocks not but a moment before.
His CO didn't say a word when Gus sicked up beside the boulder he'd taken cover by.
He never found out the boy's name. Never knew if he'd willingly entered into this war or was forced by circumstance like Gus himself had. In fact, he never learned that about any of those he killed, but, as the war dragged on, so too did his body count. And, while he could remember that first time, after awhile, they all began to blur together.
The years passed in a mish-mash of both incredibly slow, horrible months of deployment and all-too-brief respites at home.
But even the comforts of home were difficult. He found himself resenting the people there and how they complained about stupid things like running out of cereal or not putting the toilet seat down. He couldn't relate to them any more because he knew what it was to not have food for days when supply lines were cut or to piss in the middle of the desert, terrified he'd be plucked off while his hands were busy.
He also didn't remember what it was like to not watch every shadow for enemies nor jump at every little sound.
When finally finally the prerequisite number of years were complete, Gus found himself on-base for the last time. After ringing the bell signaling the end of his tenure in the Marines, he saluted his CO, turned on his heel, and left his service career behind.
But his life wound never be the same.
fanfic100: 56/100