[The Soldier notices movement out of the corner of his eye as one of the collapsed bodies on the floor sits up. Not dead. One survived. The relief isn't nearly strong enough to wipe away the mounting terror filling up the empty space in his head. Each layer piles on heavier, increasing the bleeding of the raw wound in his mind. He tries to scrabble for the pieces, but they're so burnt to ash that when he tries to scoop up one, the others slip through his fingers.
All the while, the survivor busily checks on the others, busily buzzing about them as The Soldier tries to scoop up his brains. He tunes out the movement, panic washing the pieces of himself farther and farther away. When the survivor speaks, the Soldier doesn't register the sound as a person talking to him, doesn't recognize his proximity as anything directed at him.
Until a hand touches his shoulder. His body--- the programming--- reacts and his right fist surges out, fingers outstretched as they attempt to curl about the survivor's throat.]
no subject
All the while, the survivor busily checks on the others, busily buzzing about them as The Soldier tries to scoop up his brains. He tunes out the movement, panic washing the pieces of himself farther and farther away. When the survivor speaks, the Soldier doesn't register the sound as a person talking to him, doesn't recognize his proximity as anything directed at him.
Until a hand touches his shoulder. His body--- the programming--- reacts and his right fist surges out, fingers outstretched as they attempt to curl about the survivor's throat.]