All You Need Is Kill

Add Ferrell to the list of people I’d walked all over in the battle. Who knew what else I’d done. I couldn’t remember a damn thing, but it was clear I had been a homicidal maniac on the battlefield. Maybe I was the one who’d put Yonabaru’s girlfriend’s arm in that sling. No wonder he was so pissed. A kick from a Jacket would be more than enough to do that. Hell, you could liquefy internal organs with ease.

I hoped Yonabaru would remember that fear. It would help keep him alive in the next battle. He may not have thought of me as a friend anymore, but he was still a friend to me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.” Ferrell definitely wasn’t angry. If anything, he seemed grateful. “Who taught you to pilot a Jacket like that?”

“You did, Sergeant.”

“I’m serious, son. If we were talkin’ formation drills that would be one thing, but there’s not a soldier in the entire Japanese Corps who could teach you to fight like that.”

Sergeant Bartolome Ferrell had more battles under his belt than almost anyone in the UDF. He knew what a warrior was. He understood that if I hadn’t kicked him out of the way, he’d be dead. He knew that the green recruit standing in front of him was a better warrior than he could ever hope to become. And he knew that in battle, the only rank that mattered was how good you were.

Sergeant Ferrell was responsible for the foundation I’d built my skills on. But I couldn’t begin to explain it to him, so I didn’t try.

“Oh, almost forgot. Some mouse of a woman from the U.S. Corps been askin’ for you.”

Shasta Raylle. A Shasta Raylle I’d only met briefly in the Sky Lounge. We’d hardly spoken at all. The Shasta I’d borrowed a battle axe from was a figment of the loop now.

“Where are the 17th’s temp barracks? And what about the hangar? I’d like to check on my Jacket.”

“Just out of the brig and you want to check your Jacket? You’re the real deal.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“The U.S. squad took your Jacket. Come to think of it, that mouse was one of the ones who came to take it.”

“What do they want with my Jacket?”

“The brass has plans. Don’t be surprised if you wind up in U.S. Special Forces.”

“Seriously?”

“They need someone to take the Valkyrie’s place. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Ferrell clapped me on the shoulder and we parted ways.

I headed for the American side of the base to find Shasta and my Jacket. The barracks and roads were so badly burnt it was hard to tell where the Japanese side ended and the U.S. side began. Even the sentries and all their muscles were gone.

I found my Jacket in Shasta’s workshop. Shasta was there too. Someone had scratched the words “Killer Cage” into the breastplate. “Cage”-that was how the Americans pronounced my name. I guess I had a call sign of my own now. They didn’t waste much time. It was a good name for a pig’s ass who won medals by killing his friends. I’d have to thank whoever thought of it. What a fucked-up world.

Shasta saw me staring at the inscription. “I kept as close an eye on it as I could, but they got to it anyway. Sorry.” I had the feeling she’d said something similar to Rita in the past.

“Don’t worry about it. They told me you were looking for me?”

“I wanted to give you the key to the Sky Lounge.”

“Key?”

“Like Rita asked me to. No one’s been inside since you left. It wasn’t easy keeping people out for three whole days, but I can be very resourceful.” Shasta handed me a key card. “Just ignore the stuff by the entrance.”

“Thanks.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you-do you know why Rita painted her Jacket red? It was hardly her favorite color. I thought you might know.”

“She said she wanted to stand out. I’m not sure why anyone would want to stand out on a battlefield. Just makes for an easier target.”

“Thanks. That makes sense.”

“I suppose you’ll want horns on yours?” I must have frowned because she immediately added, “Sorry! I was only joking.”

“It’s fine. I need to learn to watch that scowl. Thanks again for the key. I’m gonna go check out that Sky Lounge.”

“Before you go-”

“Yeah?”

“It’s none of my business, but I was wondering…”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Were you an old friend of Rita’s?”

I pressed my lips together into a wry smile.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. Actually, we-”

“Yes?”

“We’d only just met.”

“Of course. We’d only just come to the base. It was a stupid thing to ask.”

I left Shasta and made my way to the Sky Lounge. I opened the door gently, even though I knew I wouldn’t be disturbing anyone.

Yellow tape with the word “BIOHAZARD” printed at regular intervals crisscrossed the entryway. There was a fire extinguisher near my feet, and a grainy residue covered the floor. I guessed this was Shasta being resourceful. The base was still covered in conductive sand from the Mimics, and decontaminating non-vital facilities like the Sky Lounge wouldn’t rate high on the priority list. Clever.