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((Here's a post to make up for my non-postyness the past week or so. 802 words))

Kyle stepped back when the officer started feeling ill and knew that the officer wouldn't have them stand there until he was well again. Standing around on a track wasn't the ideal situation for "training" especially if the Colonel was to keep it as vigorous as it had been so far.

Kyle went back and sat on the stump hearing the orders. He just looked around as he saw people immediately start heading to the barracks where their equipment was. He saw the sky still a tad bit cloudy however clearing up, but not the wind; blowing as fiercely as it was when they got there. Kyle’s long hair was blowing in his face as he stared forward. He took his right hand up to his forehead and pushed it back causing it to go back into place.

He looked over himself and laughed inside. He couldn’t remember getting this dirty since his original BCT. It rained almost every day so everything was mud. He slowly stood up and felt his rib. It seemed to be going away and then coming back. He figured that he would have it checked out at the end of the training day.

Kyle then thought about everything the Colonel said and sighed when he realized that he never said anything about when that would stop. Hell, if they would stop. He remembers hearing about he friends training for the SEAL’s going almost two and a half days without sleep. He went through something similar. He didn’t remember it at all however; most likely out of exhaustion and wariness. He just remembers waking up in the middle of a field, although it looked like a naturally formed pool at the time.

Figuring that the bulk of the initiates had gone he moved towards the barracks. He used to be the first to do everything however he didn’t have the eagerness he once had as a recruit. After as much experience as Kyle had, you have seen your fair share of battle and it was only a game when it was a challenge. Regardless, he had seen so much blood spilled by that natural eagerness that he turned away whatever he saw it.

He was about halfway to the barracks now and saw the bulk of the group leaving but it didn’t increase his pace. He rubbed his face ridding the sweat and whatever else had formed on his face off onto the dirt. He brought his hands down and saw red on his hands. He felt his head again and more redness was there. Some ran down his head and fell to the ground. He stopped and knelt down. He picked up the dirt on the spot and rubbed it in his fingers. He fell back and started crying. He buried his face in between his hands and only one thing appeared. The face of Staff Sergeant Adrian Williams, his predecessor, glared back at him. He was the reason Kyle was still walking on this earth. They were caught up in a firefight in the middle of a city and an enemy made it in through a back door. He aimed for Kyle and Williams saw him, “ANDERSON!” He ran up and spun around with Kyle and machine gun fire erupted going straight into Williams back. Finally, another Ranger killed him. However, as that was happening, Kyle was holding Adrian in his arms and Adrian said one last sentence, “You’re gonna become great one day, kid.” Kyle never even got a chance to say thanks. Kyle took his hands out from underneath and there was blood all over them.

Kyle started wondering why he came back; wondering why he would have to go through all the agony again but then remembered another thing Adrian said to him about leadership, “You don’t do it for your country; not for your family; not for your dignity. You do it for your comrades.” Kyle looked up and still saw the Colonel walking away as well as the initiates going to the firing range. He then knew that Xenos had brought him here for a reason, for a purpose. He brought Anderson, not some other guy. Just then all the reasons he stayed in the Army to begin with were renewed.

He stood up and composed himself and he jogged to the door. He swung it open and grabbed everything there and left closing the door behind him. He ran up to the firing range breathing a little heavy. He the put his stuff down at one of the middle booths and felt his head while no one was looking and felt nothing. He then smirked, looked up and muttered, “Thank you, sir. You always know how to make me listen.” He gave a salute to him and then started unpacking his stuff.

After unpacking his bags and assembling his firearm, Hayden stepped up to a vacated spot on the firing range and sighted in his MG-3, taking all the time he could get to prepare, so as get the best edge possible... That was, of course, always something he favored doing. As he finished getting a suitable threshold of of the range, surveying his upcoming challenge, he loosened the bungee cords maintaining his machine-gun's healthy magazine locks, and slid a new box magazine into place, pulling the chain of 7.62s into place and clamping the fore-most bullet down to fire. He constricted the bungee cords once more and pulled his gun close, aiming ahead from his waist, and as opposed to deploying a bipod, he simply held the front with a forward grip, and continued to survey the range, paying little mind to those around him and focusing his concentration almost entirely on a proficient firing technique, one which he'd just about mastered as well as created. This technique, strikingly good in close quarters, but poor for long range, involved firing a modified machine-gun from the waist, on the move or otherwise, while being able to maintain a reasonably steady source of fire. It wasn't always accurate, and it wasn't as simple as point-and-shoot, but it got the job done surprisingly well, and it resonated with Hayden's talent.

As he waited, Hayden's eyes wandered to his teammate's stations and he took a quick and meaningless note of a few interesting things. For an example, a man, presumably a sniper, had situated himself on the range and went forth with a rigorous cleaning procedure, at least five times, and what more, he was carrying a Stalin era Russian rifle, which, regardless of it's age, Hayden found it to be a nice choice. He also watched a second initiate unpack his things, bemused at a small wound on his head which was bleeding to only the degree a minor head wound can do. As Hayden pondered the origin of this wound, he waited for further instruction from the man he had deduced to be the commander... Xenos.

Seamus was getting edgy. It wasn't the waiting, or the people around him. It was the fact that he was surrounded by people he didn't know, who were most likely carrying weapons better suited to short range firefights, and he had no reason to trust anyone yet. He was always like this, even before the "incident". He just felt uneasy when he had to trust strangers. Like when he and his team had to help an SAS squad in Northern Ireland. He wouldn't stay within ten metres of the Englishmen. Luckily they didn't take offence.

Since they weren't being watched Seamus decided to take out his charms and start blessing himself and his equipment. As he did so, he pulled out the small picture of his family that he always carried with him. Looking at it reminded him why he'd entered the armed forces. Not that others needed to know the reason, he barely knew himself. For a moment he just sat there looking at the photo. His brothers, of whom only Jarygk survived. He had no idea what had happened to him after they got split up. His mother sitting there with his father, the son of a spavie. He remembered his summers in Scotland. He swore he could still smell the Heather of the mountains sometimes.

Anderson nodded and knew that this group was, in fact, the best of the best. He shook his hand, "Master Sergeant Kyle Anderson, 75th Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion, Company D, Chalk 4 Leader." He surprised himself in the quickness of the title. That was the first time he said at since he left the Armed Forces. He shrugged inside and knew that it was just something you couldn't forget.

He released his hand after shaking it and sighed, "So...it looks like we have the best of the best here. How much do you wanna bet all of us have so much damn pride that we can't get along...I've seen it before." He smiled. He hoped that Xenos was smart enough to make such picks to not cause tension within the ranks. Kyle hated those self rightous bastards.

The man had impecable timing. Kyle looked over to him and smiled, "Ah. SAS? I haven't seen or heard of anyone from the SAS for a long time." He shook his hand, "Nice to meet you, Hayden. I am Master Sergeant Kyle Anderson, 75th Ranger Regiment." He decided to leave otu the formalitys. He only told Landry because he himself wanted to see if he himself could remember his full title.

((Quote tower, lol.))

"Nice to meet you too" said Hayden, acknowledging both of the two men, looking them over approvingly, and keeping his mind away from judgments. He became more at ease with the situation at hand and relaxed his paranoid ways a little, pulling off his gas mask.
Looking back and around him to keep conscious of his surroundings he began speaking in a lower tone. "At least you two aren't out of your bloody minds... Some of the people here are just actin' a little AWOL if you know what I mean. The quiet imperious ones, like that nervous bloke over there." He motioned subtly to Seamus. "H'looks like he's blessing his gun for a training exercise, he's got Rosary beads or something... He just seems a little wacky, I mean, I wouldn't want to pass any judgment this early in the game, and I have to trust my teammates, but there's just something awkward with the way some of these people tick, y'know?" He paused "I actually don't know... Perhaps I'm being too nervous myself, what do you think?"