The grounds of the base were a hive of activity. Men and women were running around, shouting orders. Masses of armoured vehicles were loaded with heavy crates that made the axles groan. It smelled of iron and gunpowder.

With your hands on your hips, you stood in front of the entrance to Camp D and watched the ants keep the colony running.

And the queen?

Nobody had seen her for months. Not even you. Even though Myers had always made a point of keeping an eye on you. It seemed she feared someone might hire you for the same purpose she did: the removal of a president.

Of course, it was all top secret, but rumours persisted. And you didn't make a big secret of it, because apart from the presidents of the United States of America, no one could charge you with treason anyway.

So your skin was saved. At least until Myers had another one of her moods.

Next to you, in the cold shadows, stood Kurt Hansen, his arms folded across his broad chest and the usual cool expression of a soldier on his face.

It flattered you how versatile the man was. In the camp he had spoken like a rebel who would set the whole country on fire just to feel satisfaction. Now he was back to being the colonel his soldiers followed like chicks to a mother duck.

You watched him closer from the corner of your eye.

He was quite handsome, with a square face and a broad chin on which small, dark brown stubble was already showing. The perfectly coiffed hair on his head was the same colour.

He was tall, so tall that your head reached about his shoulder. With his height and stature, he was intimidating enough if he didn't stand as straight as if he had a bullet lodged in every joint of his spine.

Straighter than a bar of steel, you thought to yourself and smiled at the sight.

He noticed it, his eyes blinked and quickly jumped to you before he looked straight ahead again.

Preparing for the next gorge, he remarked.

Your eyes followed the direction he was facing.

Standing high atop a structure of steel, General Roberts looked down on the goings-on below. He was staring directly at you and Hansen.

A grin spread across your lips. Playfully exaggerated, you threw your arm to the side and bowed so low that the leather straps of your equipment danced in the dust. Then you looked straight up at him, body still bent and teeth bared.

Roberts flinched and quickly turned away again.

He's a shit general, but not stupid, you thought aloud.

Kurt growled.

He'll send us across the main road, he said, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Discontent sparkled in the white of his eyes. It was always surprising how realistically Kroshi tech could depict emotions.

You had once known a man who had also had eye implants, a cheap brand that could be found on any black market. You had never managed to read what he was thinking in his eyes.

Not even when he had blown himself up.

Your fingers twitched, the tinkling of metal on metal sounded. Lost in thought, you raised a hand and ran your fingers over the left side of your face. Nobody had ever noticed, but the skin was synthetic. Just like the replacement for the bone and teeth that the explosion had blown out of you.

Not to mention the burns and damage to your internal organs. The former president had spared no expense or effort to steal his favourite toy from death.

And what had it done to him?

A knife in his throat and a stolen office. Nothing more and nothing less.

With your eyes closed, you shrugged your shoulders.

"Don't fucking care.", you reply and turn away to go back to your dogs.

It's going to be a massacre, Kurt insisted.

Pawns can be replaced, there are enough of them who volunteer to enrol. And when they run out, they'll draft all those fit for defence, you idly glanced over your shoulder at him, one hand on the cold metal of the door. They'll find a replacement for us one day too.

His face twitched. He wrinkled his nose and raised his chin. Confidence shone in his eyes.

I'm not one easy to replace, he said, no doubt in his voice, no hesitation.

Your eyes briefly travelled over his body. Then you snorted softly. Smirking, you lowered your head to hide the amused smile on your lips.

You weren't mocking him, but it was rather naive to think he was like no other. Because that simply wasn't true.

There are substitutes for everything, soldiers, children, pets, your eyes darkened. Presidents. Even for me.

And with those words, you disappeared into the shadows. Kurt stood outside, arms folded across his chest, and just watched you go. Thoughts flitted through his eyes, disappeared again and were replaced by new ones.

A growl quivered in his throat. In the end, he couldn't help but smirk thinly.

There were rumours and tales about the devil of war called Whistler and he had rarely believed that there was any truth in them. Now he had to realise that the truth was a lot darker.

And he liked it.

It was like the breath of a beast crawling down the back of his neck and making all his hairs quiver. Maybe Myers wasn't as good a president as he had thought, because she was trying to tame this beast, to put it in chains and make it her own.

Kurt, on the other hand, had understood that you would tear apart any throat that dared to whisper orders. You did things because they amused you, you had a reason of your own, even if it was just to satisfy the cruelty that nestled in your flesh.

One didn't tame a monster like that. One lowered their eyes and hoped it liked the new arrival enough to let it eat the leftovers.