Nathan Hale shuffled slowly through the snow, knowing that any sign that he had once walked the ground here would be erased by morning. The green coat he had on hung loosely, but any thought of tightening it and perhaps staying warm. Truthfully, the only thing he had on mind was that question, repeating over and over like it was a broken record. Perhaps it truly was the soundtrack to his life - how many times had he finished shooting down enemies from a completely different world, hoping that there would be no more before pushing away the thought as he walked down another corridor. There was no time for that question then, but it felt as if he were walking for hours without a single Chimera in sight. He had tons of time for that question, and it was reasonable to ask now, as the thought couldn't leave his head.
Is it over?
He hadn't heard a gun shot in a while, in fact, he couldn't hear anything out of his left ear and the right ear had a consistent ringing from the explosion he was certain he would die from. But as Nathan Hale kept walking through the snow, he realized that he avoided so much death. He always knew he would be good at something, it was just surpising to know that killing ailens and protecting the human race would be that. But was his job finished? He clutched the grenade in his hand, prepared to throw it at the first sign of a enemy. Ailen or Human.
He wasn't entirely sure where his sudden ability to kill humans came from as the idea was horrifying to him shortly ago. Years ago? It felt as if it had been years since his enemy was a human. The days when humans were the one he went to war with. He remembered faintly, as he tried to stay on his feet instead of dropping down onto the ground and taking a small nap, that he had killed humans before. Man power wasted. Not that it would of mattered, so many lives were lost in the ailen rage that they would of died anyway. Would more people die after this, from the creatures that didn't even belong to this earth?
Is it over?
Perhaps it was. Perhaps, as the snow covered evidence that Nathan Hale ever existed, people would forget about him. He didn't want the recongition, he didn't want anything. He wanted to go home, wherever he would call home, and hopefully sleep for a long time. But the idea of sleep caused shudders to run through his body. He could never sleep again, not without a gun in his hand. They could come back - there were more out there, and he knew it. But would they come back? Would more come or would they decide to retreat from attacking and stay home - wherever they would call home?
Is it over?
He could faintly hear past the ringing in his head and he glanced up towards the empty skies, the one that used to be filled with mysterious flying ships. UFO's. Were they coming back down to wreak more havoc on the entire human race?
Is it over?
The sound now came into view with the cause, and he stared up at the ship that he recongized. It was a human ship, but he did not see relief as it flew down onto the snow. If they were here, if they were circling onto the ground after an ailen base was completely destroyed and perhaps that it truly was over, meant that it wasn't over.
It landed, and he gripped onto the grenade as men in uniform ran out of the ship, forming a circle around him and training the classic carbine gun to his head. He momentairily wondered why in the world those bumbling bafoon's couldn't realize that he was the reason they could be going home tonight when he remembered the grenade. His eye's flickered down onto them and he realized he was holding it as if he was planning on pulling the pin and killing them all.
He glanced back up toward's them and he saw the look in his eyes. They thought he was mad. A killer. But why? The grenade surely couldn't be the reason, now could it? He dropped it however, letting it role soundlessly into the snow before walking forward with the other soldiers, walking onto the plane. He sat down silently, ignoring the questions they were already starting to quiz him with. He glanced into the window and faintly saw his reflection in it.
Is it over?
He saw his eye colour, a bright gold staring back at him blankly, as if they had no emotion to them. As if, he wasn't human and didn't posess anything.
Is it over?
The eye's told him, and as he looked away and straightened his shoulders from the slouch he had them in, pulling the coat tightly around him, he gave the soldier talking to him a slight raise of his brow.
"What's you're name and rank, mate?" The male's british accent had a peck of annoyance to it as it was the fourth time he was asking this question - he was not in the mood for games, no soldier that had the unpleasurable experince of being alive during this war did not.
"Sergeant Nathan Hale." Nathan muttered, before zoning back into his own little world as they headed towards the unknown destination.
Is it over?
The answer was clear.
No.