IRFxNightFire

“F-Florian?” The name escaped before I could do anything about it but I still hesitated on saying it. It wasn’t natural, but I embraced it. When it clicked that the bed was unoccupied, I used the chance to lay in it, in his fading warmth. I pulled my jacket over my head and worked my pants far down enough to kick them off, making sure my tank top and panties didn’t show too much skin. He’d come back at some point, and I didn’t want him to see anywhere as much as Akira had. I considered the outcomes of lying there, half-naked with the sheets only coming up to my midriffs. If I was spilling out of the tank to

Part 5.1: Estrus My grit-stained spatula flattened down on what felt like the thousandth deer-sausage patty of the day. Hernando, the chef, made it look easy. I had made plans with myself to meet Florian when I was done, and just as I turned to serve seemingly the millionth hot, homemade meal, he was there. Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear, my mother always quoted. I had no idea where it was from, but it seemed to be true. Trying to be friendly, suggestive, or whatever it could’ve been considered at the time, I gave him an extra sausage piece, a curt wave and a note I’d scribbled earlier. Meet me at lunch, it read, I&rsq

Part 4.1: Righteous Regret “Luz...it- uhm...it’s okay. You were in danger..” the same foreign girl tried to console me later that night. I’d been congratulated by Colonel Benal, allowed to keep his pistol. In fact, when he was congratulating me publicly, he carried another model just like it. I would now be issued ammunition for it, put on the fast track to leading a ten-person squad like everyone dreamed of doing. Being a sergeant. But I was still, for now, a corporal. I returned every hug she gave, but resisted a little when she tried to do anything else. I made her turn around when I undressed to my panties and

Part 3.1: Diplomacy Mandatory “We found them all, sir. Well...except...for two.” The sound of Lucas’ radio, although turned nearly all the way down, woke me up. Shit, shit, that’s us, right? I looked around, wondering how long I had been asleep. It was dark, a little bit wet, and because we were so close to a city, there was no stars to be seen and barely any moon. I could almost see the smog draped over the dim light. I woke him, lifting my head from his chest and shaking him lightly. We basically slept side by side in a ditch, me sort of on top of him but mostly to the side. Despite it being only the beginning of

2.1: Retaliation “That little sneak,” I muttered, as I kneeled in front of the television. He was so smug, arrogant. Kurt was supposed to be my friend- but when I was fifteen, he was eighteen already. Working in construction, he didn’t go to school at all. And he was in the worker’s union behind this all. “That traitor fuck,” I said in the same fashion. I’d have shot out the TV if we weren’t in the middle of a rebel camp. “Guys, should we really be staying here?” One of the boys asked. “The rebel pickaxe symbol’s everywhere, even if this place does look deserted.&rdqu

“Welcome to Camp Tre, shitheads!” I wouldn’t have to wait very long for deployment. In short order, I was packed up and sent on my way to Camp Tre, inventors of the coveted Tre Flip, which combined the already difficult maneuvers of the Pop-Shove-It and the Kickflip. With the instructor’s ‘nice’ greeting to the latest batch of recruits, it was clear we’d have to show our skill before we were dumped into the general base camp. Shouldn’t be too difficult, and as long as nobody did anything stupid it should be easy. So, the course outline was this: 1. Push correctly in either Goofy or Regular stanc

For those fallen in the battles that man’s waged on himself, both against his fellow man, and internally. AUTUMN Prologue: Fall “Luz... are you awake now?” The voice penetrated my consciousness and, once again brought me to the world of the living. In the white hospital room where I lay, there sat a Priestess on the side of my bed. She was partly clad in dress uniform, black and white suns hanging from her elbows, forearms and wrists by small metal chains. Tattooed on each hand was a black-outlined cross with a red fill-in, not anything required, but something she must have added herself. Her saying my first name made me