When service on the warfront finished, the victors headed home.

What a long service it was.

Walter Thurman, a US Army Veteran, enrolled once more in fighting for his country. The usual pack of soldiers banded together in the midst of the parking lot of one of the nearest military bases, restaurants and a variation of stores in view nearby.

Cloudy skies set in, a thunderstorm on its way during the late winter season. One rookie punched the arm of a Veteran with false effort, newly accepted into their awful 'inner circle'. A bunch of meatheads. Poor guy, Walter thought. Although I can state with honesty that I envy their youth, and their time to goof off. I guess I should give 'em that.

When it comes to inner circles, Walter was the unsung king. The fifty-year old white American was what the Colonel would call a 'cool, calm and collected multi-tasker'. Walter attracted unwanted attention for doing the job that needed to be completed, assumedly due to his 'no-nonsense sense of air', as they called it.

"Walter, did your wife track you down yet?" A familiar voice...the soldier himself approaching.

"Gotta love how you put it, Chuck," Walter chuckled. "Mariah's not a bloodhound."

"Well she certainly doesn't look like one. You're pretty blessed, Walter." Chuck walked underneath the roof of a restaurant. He sat down, contacting his own wife. His phone read 12/15/11, battery a third full. After no answer, he set the phone down, looking ahead to see how the weather fared.

"Nah, she found me," Walter corrected, lazily pulling out his own smart phone.

Chuck looked over at Walter. "I meant what with the friends you've got here."

"Friends?"

"Admirers, if you will," Chuck rephrased. "You've got many youngins' who look up to you."

"I honestly can't put my finger on why."

"That's exactly it," Chuck responded.

"What's it?"

"Never mind," Chuck sighed. He stared up at the sky. "Can you believe it? Three years..."

"It felt like thirty on the battlefield," Walter said.

Chuck smirked, a loud vrrrr-ing shaking the bench as he picked up the white smart phone.

"Ah, that's gotta be Daria. Seeya Walt," Chuck stated before giving a wave, walking off. Walter smiled and waved back to the only guy that didn't exactly irk him. Chuck rose the phone to his ear. "Daria? Hey honey! I just got off. Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to see what you were up to. I'm getting ready to go get the car started now." He went further into the parking lot.

Walking over to a trashcan in front of a slim alleyway, Walter reached deep into his pockets, fingers lacing around something wrinkled. He threw out some crumpled paper in his pocket that covered a straw from some months ago. He missed his own family as well, a family of four. His eldest, Julia, who was turning twenty still sobbed like a child when he had to leave those three years ago. He felt it was time to finally contact his wife.

One hand was on the smartphone beginning the text, eyes fatigued but focused. His free hand that dumped the wrapper was met with a stranger's hand from the dark alleyway. It held a folded note. Walter stared silently for moments. He reached in and took the note, confused and not so focused. Walter leaned in to see the figure of whose hand the note belonged to. It was too late. The figure faded in, becoming part of the darkness.

It read, "( This Mission is Optional )

Would you like to aid in a little pest control? The Ehirit Village is in mayhem during the nights, and you'll be doing them a favor.

We reward handsomely."

No name. Wait, Ehirit? That name rung a strange bell. A tribe resembling the Inuit that camped in warm temperatures. Technology was scarce, and huntings amongst other things kept the village alive and well. Lively game, recreation and activity for archers, enthusiasts and soldiers. Along the way, the Ehirits helped rehabilitate and provide tonics for the base when there was a dent in their forces. They got the army on their feet from a point of no return, giving them the recovery to deplete the number of enemy forces they never dreamed of reducing to a such an extent. It was because of them that twenty-seven soldiers, --Walter included-- were eligible to see their families once more. Walter wasn't one for mercenary work, so this was more of returning the Ehirits the favor.

He owed them his life.

Walter headed towards the same bench Chuck waited on, sitting down and tapping away on his smartphone. He rose the phone to his ear. "Mariah? Hey baby, I miss you and the kids so much. We just got back, and we're finished here. But listen..."

An hour went by, a loud honk breaking Walter out of his trance, his smartphone resting between his hands. He turned to see Chuck in his van. Chuck honked twice more. "You coming? I know I already said seeya, but I can give you a lift if you want."

"Ah, about that," Walter began.

Chuck laughed. "I know that look in your eyes. Even your tone of voice says it more than your face, and that's saying something."

"Hmm?"

"Don't play dumb, Walt. I'll bet you found a job."

"I have to take this," Walter sighed.

"Those Mercenary services are most likely optional, y'know. Everyone's dismissed, don't keep your wife waiting. Your three kids oughta miss you too," Chuck persisted.

"I know they do, it's just-"

"Your duty's to the people. I know that since that's the first thing you blurted out at the Drill Sergeant," Chuck laughed.

"Without the Ehirits' help, I wouldn't have a family to go home to. Those people need the same protection we get here. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing if Mariah and the kids had danger knocking on their door every night," Walter's unintentional lecturing tone came out.

A long pause.

Chuck closed his eyes and sighed. Groaning while two fingers pinched above the bridge of his nose, Chuck withdrew from the comfort of his van to the new pelting raindrops, slamming the car door.

"What am I going to do with you. You know how to rile up an ol' soldier's motive. I'll join you for the thrill of good things to happen."

"Good things to happen?"

"A slew of miracles always occur when a soldier sticks with you. I'm sure Daria will understand. She's heard many a miracle of yours from my big mouth," Chuck laughed.

The bus for the optional mission sat there for almost the whole day, soldiers boarding with good intentions.

Chuck lifted his foot on the bus, heading to the back. Walter actually favored the middle row. He sat near a window on the army shuttle bus, staring outside in deep thought.

Don't worry, Mariah, I'll be home soon.

Two footsteps. A pair of boots settled down beside his. Wallace. A man who found Walter enviable, but would never admit to it. Unless paid handsomely.

"Ah, so did you also accept this menial labor task for the high pay too?" Wallace snickered.

"High pay?" Walter responded, turning his head.

"Okay, enough is enough. That innocent act of yours may have worked wonders for you back at the camp, but it's played out now. So knock it off," Wallace scoffed.

"I honestly have no idea what you're speaking of, or why you're even here, but a job is a job."

"You do know that this job is optional, right?" Wallace started in on him. "Your family's not feeling rejected?" He smirked at Walter. The latter grimaced.

"Mariah can handle the kids herself for the time being."

"I'll take that as a yes?"

Walter flashed a quick glare at him.

A success, the rigid man backing off for now. A bit intimidated at first, Wallace laughed it off with another scoff. He recollected himself and retreating to the front of the shuttle bus. Before Walter about-faced, he heard a light tap against the window. Right when it seemed like the rain was letting up. A raindrop fell outside of Walter's window, a downpour beginning as the sun shone brightly. A sunshower.

Walter's new mission awaited.