One-six cursed to himself. He did not know why he refused the order. He did not even decide to talk back, his mouth just did it by itself.

He looked at the small girl in front of him, then down at the bulky outline of his assault rifle. Slowly he raised it up, with the muzzle pointed straight at the helpless child in from of him.

One bullet would surely be enough for such a frail body. She would not feel a moment of pain. It would be all over in an instant if he aimed well enough.

But somehow his finger refused to pull the trigger. His hands were shaking so much he could not keep his gun pointed forwards properly. With all he could he closed his eyes, bit his lip and forced his fingers to contract.

A click. Then a deafening bang and a sharp kick from his rifle.

He opened his eyes again. And through the dusty air he saw the girl, still cowering there on the floor, unhurt. Light whiffs of smoke rose up from a hole on the floor, just a finger’s length above the child’s head.

He had missed.

In all his years of training he had never scored anything besides perfect marks for his marksmanship.

In any mission he had never need to use more than a single bullet on any enemy.

But this time he missed. He missed an unmoving target just a couple of meters in front of him.

He tried to raise his rifle again, but his arms did not permit him. It felt as if he was lifting a box of lead.

Something warm flowed down his cheeks. Blood, probably. But when he put his hand to it there was no red stain left on the fabric of his glove.

He knelt down and reached his hand forward to the girl. He did not know why he did it, he just felt that it was something he should do.

The girl opened her mouth, as if crying for help. But no sound came out. The smoke and fire had probably taken their toll on the child’s weak throat, making her mute temporarily, if not for life.

“Code one-six, status report. Over,” his radio crackled back to life.

He lifted his hand up to his earpiece instinctively, but decided not to depress the “transmit” button.

“Code one-six, terminate the subject and EXFIL the building. The fire is spreading and the structure’s stability could be compromised. Do you copy? Over,” His radio spoke again.

There was nothing he could do against the commands of his seniors. To do so would mean reprimands. A court martial, even.

And so he wiped his eyes dry, stood up slowly, and raised his rifle once more. He took aim again, and this time he made sure he did not miss.

There was a bang. But it did not come from his rifle.

The ground shook and splinters of food fell as a section of the building collapsed. Tendrils of fire burst through the hole created by the collapsed roof, igniting the weakened wall of the room which One-six stood in.

With another crunch more of the building collapsed, the intensity of which knocking One-six down to his knees once again. Black smoke began to fill the room, flowing into his headgear and causing him to choke.

The fire must have gotten a lot worse while he wasn’t paying attention. And as he turned to look, the path out of the building now looked like a sea of fire. He tried to push himself back up, but his arms gave out. There wasn’t enough oxygen left, and he was going to die there in that room.

Then through the sea of flames a person charged towards him. Their rifle held by the hand guard in one hand, and their mouth and nose covered by the other.

“One-six!” That person shouted. “Get out!”

The person grabbed him by his scruff and began dragging him to his feet. One-six didn’t try to resist.

“Are you crazy?” The person shouted, their voice muffled by the crackling of the inferno.

Then they started to pull him out of the room. One-six turned to look back at the girl. But she had already collapsed from shock and smoke inhalation. He knew that if he went back and grabbed the girl, he would still be able to save her.

“What are you doing?” The person shouted. “We have to go!”

Another crunch sounded, and the rest of the walls caved in. Suddenly the girl was gone, replaced by charred wood and twisted metal.

“Come on!” The person shouted once more.

One-six forced himself to turn away, and forced his legs to begin moving. They charged head first into the wall of flames, the heat burning his exposed skin. Just as they emerged out of the front door the house collapsed fully.

The person tore off their helmet, and Two-six’s dark amber hair, messy from the rescue, flowed down to her shoulders.

“What were you thinking?” She asked.

“I… I don’t know…”

He looked Two-six in the eyes, and suddenly he felt he understood what she meant when they talked last night.

“Put some medicine on your burns,” One-five said as he walked over. “The burns don’t look too bad, they should be healed within a dew days. Collect your wits, we have to continue.”

Two-six took out her first-aid kit and began to apply bandages onto the burns on One-six’s neck and arms. Her hands were shaking a little, which One-six figured was from the adrenaline. He noticed she had burns on her skin too, his inside twisting a little as he realized it was a result of his actions.

“You owe me big time,” Two-six whispered.