I looked around me at the field of blood. It was morning now. The battle had lasted all night by the looks of it. The way it had started and ended couldn't have been any more different. 6 hours ago, at midnight, I was on the turret of my tank. We waited, waited for the signal, and finally, saw it. Danev's flare. It came right out of the center of their camp, followed by an explosion in the rear. And by the time the camp was awake, our tanks were already over them, storming over their trenches, burning those still inside like termites in a log.
I myself had contributed to that slaughter. And I didn't blink. I could still see them writhing in the fire, screaming, more for a quick death than for help, but we passed over them, and then the battle began. It had been an hour of slaughter. An hour before they managed to recover. And when they did, it hit hard. My tank was hit, rolled over, and split in two.
My driver was dead, the copilot writhing in pain. I ignored them. I left the tank, pushing the fire aside before meeting the belligerent head on. The one who had toppled my tank and killed my crew. Though I won't lie and say I did it for them. I had no sympathy for the men in my new squad. I finally succeeded where I had failed only too many times in the past. They weren't my friends. They were just other pawns. Like me.
So I killed the bender. I dodged his first attack, fired a bolt at his legs, sending him to the ground, and burned him alive with a constant stream of fire as I walked past him, looking for the next fight. And eventually, I found it. And the next. And the next.
And when the trance of the battle was over, I was covered in blood, I was for some reason carrying an Earth Kingdom sword in my hand and covered in enough blood to make a water bender look like a Fire Nation soldier, the sun was out, and the battle was over. And of course, we had won.
I had two arrows stuck in me. I had had a spear thrust into my thigh not enough to cripple me, but enough to hurt like hell once the adrenaline had worn off, and a sword cut to the chest that would leave a gnarly scar. But it was over. We had won. And I had killed 47 men.
I had found my squad soon after. There were only 7 of them left. They didn't care I was alive, and I didn't care they were. My care ended at the fact I wouldn't have to go through the annoyance of being reassigned again to a squad that would try to coddle me like Boss had. I was done with that.
So now, I was in a medical tent for what felt like the hundredth time in the last year. I couldn't help but smile as I felt the tip of the knife run down my right arm as he Killstreak cut off my cast. I had my arms again. And as he administered to his documents, ensuring there was nothing else he needed to check from me, I found my joy get the better of me as I decided to make conversation, asking "So. Killstreak, huh?"
"Don't start."
"Impressive name. Unfortunate though it's our own guys."
"What's unfortunate is that the reason the number's so high is because I 'accidentally' give the wrong medicine to the assholes that try to be funny about my name."
"Fine fine. I get your point."
I had taken the threat as legitimate at first, thinking I had actually hit a nerve not to my knowledge. And apparently, I had as he soon started on a rant, saying "They come in here with a fucking arrowhead in their chest, inches from their hearts. I remove them and when I go to get disinfectants, they're gone. Then those same assholes come in a week later saying they don't feel so good. Then they die and blame it on me."
"So. It's not your fault."
"Fuck no, it's not my fault! Tell me, you still have any dry socks with you?"
"I. No?"
"Oh for fuck's sake. He left into another wing of the tent and I considered leaving just to piss him off but was nowhere near stupid enough to turn down dry socks. He came back a few seconds later with a pair in each hand, tossing them to my lap where they softly landed, dry and, holy shit, actually warm. He continued, saying "How often you change socks?"
"I don't know. Every half week?"
"What the-? It's a fuckin' miracle you don't have trench-foot. Just yesterday I had 3 people come in here with it. Well. 'here' as in same tent, different camp. I keep on telling them, come in when your feet's still pink, but no, by the time they come in, their toes are gone, their feet are black, and sound like hollow bamboo straws when you hit them with a stick. Idiots. Change your socks every day. Okay? Every day? And keep moving. Don't idle in the mud. Let your socks soak in the rain overnight. We're getting a lot of it now."
"Yeah. Hell, I hate the rain."
"You and me both, but it's good for your clothes and for water supplies. Another word of advice, drink none of the water in no man's land."
"Okay, yeah. That's a given."
"Is it? Private Zuno came in 3 days ago, saying he didn't feel so good. Guess where he drank from?"
"You're kidding me. The pit?"
"The pit."
"The one we found the dead ostrich-horse head in?"
"That very one."
"Idiot!"
"You're telling me. He said he knew, but it looked clear enough and safe to drink."
I gagged at the thought of it and Killstreak looked at me, smiled, and said "Sorry."
"Yeah. I've had enough stories for now."
"I can tell."
"So how do I look? I should get back out there. I have a new arm to use."
"That's disgusting."
"Not what I meant."
"Sure. You looked fine. Your arm should be good to go. Be safe though. Take it easy with the bending. See how much energy flow it can take. It'll take time to get readjusted, but you're way better off now than before. Capable fighter with both hands, more than an adept bender, and shit, I saw your signature when you came in. More than fine penmanship in both hands."
"Hell. I think I actually write better with my left after all this. And my wounds?"
"Well. You won't get any infections since you were smart enough to stick around, but you'll still feel some discomfort in your leg. Take the opioids I gave you daily at night before going to bed for the pain. It's when you're idle that you'll feel the most discomfort so it's only natural you should do something for the pain before going to sleep."
"Makes sense enough, I guess. Anything else?"
"Not. That should be all."
I got up, ready to shake his hand, saying "Hey. Thanks. Oh wait. Before I go, while I was out, hear anything about the aftermath of the battle?"
"Oh. Yeah. Well. We clearly won. General Sodhru was KIA and Sung is MIA. One armored squad was sent searching for him."
"Any word on what's to come?"
"So far, no. All I know is that Iroh's going to be keeping up his hearts and minds campaign for the near future, but we're in the endgame now. One camp is all that's left between us and the inner wall. We're almost there. Pretty cool."
"Yeah. It's crazy alright. Still have no idea what I'm going to do once this is over."
"I don't know? Go to school."
I laughed. Like that was ever going to happen. No. That life was long past. "Thanks for the help, Killstreak. Sorry if I make fun of your name."
"Yeah. You'll be sorry when you realize what those meds, I gave you really are." I was intimidated at first until he smiled, and I shook his hand with him shaking back. And with that, I left.
I had two arms again. It was time to see what firebending was like now with two hands again. And for once, I was actually excited about something. Not just my arms, but the war. I had no idea what I'd do afterwards. I had been fighting for too long now to just throw it all away. But wherever I ended up, I'd be ready. I produced a flame in my right hand and when I saw the size I could bring it to with minimal effort, I smiled, and threw it up at the sky, lighting the camp for a brief second before it dissipated into the mid-morning sky still engulfed in smog and smoke. I smiled. Yeah. I'm ready.