The Cold War 2: by Nick Venom (book club reads txt) 📕

“We have no choice. My spies have informed me about a massive Delta army heading on its way here. Sooner or later this fort will face the entire brunt of the damage. We don’t have enough soldiers to defend this fort and all of its civilians. We received a lot of refugees that are relying on us for protection.”

“So we protect them by sacrificing their young?” He exclaimed, irritated by the order. “I understand our need for more soldiers but speeding up the training process will only lead to the creation of foolish ones. I need more time.”

Berets slammed his fist on the table. “We have no more time! I’ve given you as much as we can afford. I need them by the deadline or else!” He declared. “I don’t care for your excuses or your morals. Get it done.”

Wix bit his lip, silencing himself. He raised his hand into a salute, addressing Berets. “I understand, sir. Permission to be dismissed?”

“Granted.” Berets responded, watching as Wix nodded his head before turning around and leaving the room in a foul mood. His eyes lingered on the door, waiting for some kind of response before shifting his gaze onto Wix’s comrades. “I apologize for holding onto you both for longer than necessary. There have been people claiming to know the “true” you. Go to the second floor, Ash, and there’ll be a female waiting for you in the first room to the right. As for you, Gunner, the man claims that he wants an interview with you and that you know each other. He’s waiting on the first floor, in the third room to your immediate right.” He informed both soldiers who nodded before rising to their feet. 

“Oh, and check up on Wix later if you can. I can understand his irritation at this unfair situation but, believe me, I wouldn’t allow this to happen if it wasn’t for a good reason.”

Ash and Gunner glanced at each other before nodding. 

“Don’t worry, sir, we understand that sacrifice is needed,” Ash said, speaking for both of them. “We’ve seen it plenty of times.”

“Unfortunately, so have I.” Berets added. “Now go. Meet with these people. You do have the rest of the day off, anyway.” Both soldiers nodded, saluting him, before exiting the room. They entered the hallway, walking through a series of connecting hallways before they found the stairs. They headed down it, passing by a redheaded woman who paid them no mind, and split off at the second floor. Ash stayed on the second floor while Gunner descended to the first floor. 

Now split apart, Ash headed to the first room on his right. He entered the room, which was a large classroom-looking room where a woman waited for him. The woman stared at him, her hand over her gaped mouth. 

“It’s really you.” She whispered. “You’re really alive.”

Ash furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, who are you?” He asked the woman, who had a strange resemblance to him. She had the same reddish-brown hair and black skin that he had, but she was considerably dirtier and wore tattered clothing. Ash, on the other hand, wore his clean uniform and had access to a shower once every few days, which was more than any refugee or citizen could have. 

“Me?” The woman questioned. “You’re Sammy Wickens right?” She asked him, on the verge of tears. “I’m your sister, Nyla Wickens. I saw you when y-you landed.”

Ash stared dumbfoundedly at her. “... N-Nyla?” He stammered. “I-I-It’s you? Where’s everyone else?”

Nyla bit her lip, creating a tense atmosphere as she thought about what she was going to say. After a few moments, she decided on what to say. “... I’m the only one left.” Her words shot through Ash, devastating him.

“They’re dead?”

Nyla nodded. “Two years ago. We w-were being chased by Delta factioners. T-T-They… They caught up to us and…” Her voice trailed off as a tear streamed down her cheek. Ash noticed the tear instantly, acting implausibly. He charged towards her, embracing her with a bear hug. He hugged her tightly as she returned the favor, both siblings engaging in a competition between who could squeeze who the hardest. For Ash, however, he squeezed her tightly as if he were to release her, she would disappear. As if she were to leave him. He didn’t want her to leave.

“Nyla… Nyla… Nyla.” He repeated as tears began to stream down his cheeks. “Y-You’re alive! I’m sorry for a-abandoning you!” He roared before falling into a sobbing fit. Nyla didn’t help as she went into the same fit. They were a teary mess. A happy teary mess. 

***

Gunner headed to the first floor, splitting ways with Ash, and went to the third room on his right. He entered the room, which resembled a company’s meeting room with a collection of tables in the middle and chairs surrounding it. A man sat in one of the chairs, a bulky man with a clean-shaven face and eyes the color of emeralds. Gunner was instantly entranced with the man’s eyes until they looked in his direction. Then they appeared a dirty shade of green - the shade of green that even people whose favorite color is green don’t like. 

The man stood up from the chair, leaving a writing pad and pencil on the table. He approached Gunner, sticking out his hand. “Hello, my name is Jeff White. I wanted to interview you about the Battle of Lost City Base if you’re available.”

“Uh…” Gunner stammered. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m fit for an interview. I can ask someone else to-”

“No, I prefer to do it with you. Nobody else.” Jeff quickly responded. “The interview won’t work otherwise. So just sit down and we’ll start. Before things get messy.” His words stemmed far from being friendly. Gunner recognized the blatant threat but couldn’t gauge the weight of it. 

He didn’t come in without a way to back up his threat right? Or is he bluffing in hopes to secure the interview? No right? Unless… he has that.

Gunner complied with Jeff, sitting down at the chair across from him. He rested his hands on his lap, under the table, to avoid having Jeff notice the slight tremble. He wasn’t sure why they were trembling, but he could feel them. An earthquake was occurring in his hands, disrupting the natural peace. As if it was ever peaceful.

“Firstly, let’s get to business. My first question is about how many Delta units were present. In the tens? Hundreds? And how many Aztec units are there.”

Gunner bit his lip, refusing to speak. However, a single glare from Jeff forced him to comply. “I’m not sure how many Delta units there were, but there were five Aztec units in total. Alpha, Echo, Hammer, Blackhawk, and Riot.” 

“Interesting, how many are still there. Seeing that your squad, Alpha Squad I presume, is currently here.”

“Maybe…” He started before his voice trailed off. Jeff glared at him again, but Gunner kept his mouth shut. He nearly revealed to a complete stranger how many units were protecting an important Aztec piece, one of few that the faction still held. 

“Fine,” Jeff remarked, irritated. “Then we’ll do it the hard way. Tell me how many units were there or else I leak your true identity.”

Gunner appeared puzzled. True identity? He doesn’t know about… the old me, right?

Jeff dug into his pocket and took out an old picture. He plopped it on the table before sliding it over to Gunner for him to get a view of it. The picture displayed a younger Gunner and several men around him. 

“You know what this photo is, right?”

Gunner nodded. “Why are you showing this to me? Blackmail?”

“You could say that.”

Gunner shook his head, crushing the photo in his palms. “Hell no!”

Jeff smirked. “I have copies ready. I can easily slide it under Berets’s door and your entire future will be over. Isn’t that right, gangster?”

Gunner glared at him. “You want to ruin my reputation? My image? Then go ahead. As long as I can press a trigger, I’m needed.” He told Jeff as he rose from his chair.

Jeff shook his hair. “Not if they know that you were connected to the Red Killers. Nowadays, nobody really remembers them, but they used to be the most feared organization. Apparently, everyone who was connected to them was executed. I wonder if you’ll face the same fate as them.”

Gunner felt sweat forming on his forehead, doing his best to discreetly wipe it off. However, Jeff noticed it. He expected it. 

“You see, however, I have no use for you if you’re dead. So here are your options. Either I can share this image with your boss, Berets, and watch as you die, or… you work with me and get some information I need and we’ll be on our ways.”

Gunner gnashed his teeth. He wanted to jump over the table and beat him to death, but he couldn’t. Even if it’s deserved, Berets and the others would find the image and Gunner would join Jeff in the afterlife. This was the worst pathway and the one he didn’t intend to follow.

“Fine… I’ll give you what you want.”

Jeff nodded, still smirking. “Then how many units are still protecting the base?”

“... four. Every squad except Alpha… but two are seriously wounded.”

Jeff nodded. “Good… I can see that we’ll have a favorable relationship. It’s sure as day.”

***

“Are you sure, Captain?” Levi, a tanned-skin man, asked a pale woman in front of him. 

“It’s too risky!”

The woman shook her head. “Get the trump card set up. We’re moving instantly.” She remarked. “Get the platoon ready. I want the Death Knights at Ironclad by the tenth.” She informed Levi. “Not a day later.”

“Yes, Captain,” Levi said before turning around and disappearing to inform Captain Vivian Walls’s platoon of heavily geared Delta factioners about the use of the trump card. It would rely on their support. And with Vivian leading them, she had all of their support.

“We’ll reach the fortress soon… then that’s one less Aztec fort to worry about. After that, they’ll be all gone. Only the Deltas will rule this world. The war will end. I’m sure of it.”

TBC…

“Raise the pistol to eye level then steady your aim using both hands. Once you have the target in your iron sights, press the trigger.” Wix ordered Black Spirits, glancing around for an absent Maci. It was the next day, being June 4th, 3022. Ash and Gunner were present, assisting the recruits that needed help figuring out how to handle their “dummy pistols” - an antique pistol from long ago that didn’t have it in them to fire off a bullet. The dummy pistols were worthless pieces from an age long gone but served their purpose by adjusting rookies to the weight and feel of guns.

“Do not press the trigger until you have the target in your sights,” Wix repeated himself, staring at Raiz who spammed the trigger button as if it was a toy. “Every round is necessary. You should never waste a round by firing them all at once unless you’re sure it’ll hit.” 

Raiz looked at him,