The Mist was thick that day. Unnaturally thick, but he didn't notice. It was always foggy that time of year, and he was waiting for her to arrive. He promised a dance before they went to dinner. It was an odd request, but he'd never been able to resist the girls requests, so he agreed and they made plans to meet in the middle of the field at Centennial park.

'This isn't right,' he thought, 'Centennial park doesn't exist anymore.' He ignored his own thoughts though, and moments later she appeared, gliding through the fog like a sprite, a shadow against the yellow of the streetlights in the distance. He smiled despite himself. There was just something about her that made him smile, and he blew into his hands to warm them before she arrived.

She smiled up at him, a light pink on her cheeks from the cold, and he pressed something inside his coat. Music drifted softly from his collar, and she took his hand and pressed her body against his. 'IMPOSSIBLE!' he told himself, the warmth of her body against his chest telling him that this was real.

The song was muffled, the words inaudible against the soft shuffle of their feet in the wet grass. She looked up at him, the cool blue eyes searching his for a moment, trying to find something. He wondered briefly what she was looking for, but was cut short. She opened her mouth.

It was quiet at first, as she pulled away from him, her lips making a soft "O" shape and then he heard it, a piecing, slowly growing, impossibly inhuman scream. He tried to reach her, but she was melting into the mist, and his hands passed helplessly through her. That damned Scream. That horribly painful scream just kept becoming louder and louder. He felt himself stumble and fall, her face disappearing.

It ended suddenly, a dull KERTHUD sending a shudder through the building and rousing him. "How long have I been out?" he croaked, an armored glove grabbing a passing man in armor by the sleeve. It was obvious he had startled the young man, his gear clean and a fresh set of privates bars sewn onto his shoulder.

"Sir?" The man asked nervously, looking around franticly for his gunny's help.

He simply shook his head and shoved the young man. 'No,' he corrected himself, 'he's just a boy.'

It took another moment to shake the sleep from his eyes. He traced the girls face in his mind while he ran his hands over the plated Graviton armor, and checked the built in systems. He knew her once, loved her even. Diagnostics reading a stress fracture along the right thigh. He traced his fingers over the plate, his eyes not watching the world, but rather his memory, searching for a name to the half lost woman.

Bullet graze, Danger of compromise.... minimal. He entered it as a note into the system and slowly unsealed his helmet. The men around him paused for a moment. Most of the troopers in Fox Trot outpost knew him, but no one really knew his face. He wandered through a list of names in his mind, but none seemed quite right.

"Sir?" someone said, shaking him from his revelry and bringing him back to the world. It was that young man he had stopped earlier. He watched the boy for a moment, and noticed that he lacked the hardness most survivors from earth held. Corman volunteer then.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it out of his face, and rubbed the thick stubble. It had been days since he could shave, and weeks since he got to take the armor off. "What kid?" he asked, tucking the glorified bucket under one arm. He realized that he didn't recognize his own voice. It was different from the one in his dreams. Deeper, thicker, angrier. He'd been in the field too long.

"Nothing sir, you just looked lost." He responded, backing away slowly and turning away, bolting into a light trot to rejoin his unit. He didn't blame the boy. How many times had he died? Dozens of times probably. The docs always managed to patch him up and get him back on his feat. What was that announcement over the PA system at Forean Base? he wondered for a moment, scratching his scalp with the heavy kevlar gloves, then shook his head. Something about dying never getting easier. There was something in that statement that was a lie.

He stopped at the Gate, and looked up, the shimmering blue shield that had replaced conventional gates. These were too pretty for his liking. Pulling his helmet back on, he sighed and hit a button just bellow where his right ear would be. "Missions." he said crisply. he reached over his shoulder searching for something. His hand found the grip, and he unhooked the big chaingun from its resting place, and settled on a mission. An easy one. Take out three Predators and drop a homing beacon for drop-ships. Easy was really subjective in such a moment.

He hit something on the side of the weapon and it buzzed to life, the ammunition feed poised to belch hot metals. There was a healthy jog between him and the Purgas Station, and a bit more still till he reached the insertion point. And then there was the predators. Large bio-mechanical devices. He wasn't sure if they were really as stupid as they acted, but he did know they were ridiculously fast. They were wickedly sleek, and strangely reminiscent of old earth insects, a reversed hornet perhaps.

As he stepped through the humming blue gate, he felt his boots sink into the grayish-red mud. He couldn't help thinking back one last time to the girl. That girl. He still wondered who she was, then turned his mind off, and looked to the south west.

"Join the AFS they said," He huffed quietly, "Visit exciting new planets, and meet exotic aliens." he bucked his pace suddenly into a quick trot.

"And kill them."