GRAVEDIGGER medic

In this war, no one played fair.

At any given moment, you could die in a thousand different ways, set aflame and left to burn, two well-placed volk shots before you can even realize which way they’re firing from, being a bit too sluggish on the realization that a jaeger had pranced around the land you were trekking through.

Endless, and the factions were only getting more ruthless by the day.

All of these things fall under the guise of self-improvement, and so the remedy comes in the form of well-meaning individuals.

Evelyn didn’t enjoy her job, so many lost patients, so much blood, a naturally timid person; it wasn’t up her lane, but what can one do? She knows she’s the only mortician in this battalion.

The night, the last skirmish had been several posts away from them, sleep offers itself with a falsely-secure promise, but weeks have passed since their last proper rest, and the enemy seems far enough.

Until they weren’t.

An ambush, backhanded and covert, the awake ones can barely scream before the gunfire—

Whoosh.

A bullet grazes her cheek, she rolls off the bunk with abandon, before beginning to search for a way out while stabilizing a soldat.

There.

In the chaos, among the already fleeing men, she hopes she can blend with the troop, escape the encroaching Nationers.

Until a powder-pushed projectile finds the lobe of the man next to her.

She doesn’t look, she doesn’t need to. The cessation of breath and the red liquid invading the corners of her vision tells her enough.

A still-warm barrel nudges her bangs, barks and orders pierce her ears.

It’s over.