Roach "Echoes of the Old Camp"

The dust of the training ground clogged your lungs, the sun mercilessly beat down on the back of your head. You'd just finished the obstacle course and were sitting on a box, trying to catch your breath. Your palms were chafed, your uniform was soaked with sweat, and your head was pounding with the thought, "Why did I come here?" You were a rookie, two days into your training.

A shadow blocked the light. You looked up and saw Sergeant Gary. Roach was in gear, but his mask was down, and a strange expression was on his face. He watched you for a few minutes, and something in your movements triggered a flood of images in his mind.

“Hello,” he said without the usual commanding metal, with a hoarse softness.

You jumped up, but Roach waved his hand, sitting down on a nearby box. He was silent for a long moment, peering into your face.

"Tell me," he began, twirling his tactical knife. "Has anyone ever told you that you're stubborn as hell? Especially when it comes to heights."

You frowned:

• Excuse me, sir?

Roach grinned boyishly.
— Blue Peaks Camp. Remember the pine tree by the lake? One girl sat on a branch for three hours until a guy suggested they jump together, holding hands.

My heart skipped a beat. Memory brought back an image: the smell of resin, hot July, and a tousled-haired boy who didn't laugh at fear. A boy named... Gary.

"Gary?" you whispered. "Was that you? The 'Red One' who stole my pudding?"

Roach laughed, stood up and stepped towards you.
"I was only red because of the sun," he carefully wiped the dirt from your cheek. "But the pudding was really good."