Captain Shay straightened his helmet as he pushed the door open, heaving a deep sigh. He hated interviews. He walked up to the silver figure waiting for him at the end of the room. Feeling slightly stupid, he cleared his throat loudly, sure that his loud footsteps should have announced his arrival, already.
The interviewer was tiny, her back turned to him, her mane of silver hair reflecting the halogens off in all directions. She turned around, and for the first time in his short life of twenty-eight years, Captain Shay felt his knees buckle. A rush of air escaped his mouth, behind his helmet as he struggled to regain his control.
"Consalat, Captain!"
Shay flinched. It was her! There was no doubt about it! He could recognize that voice anywhere, even after... how many years had it been since he had joined the Agmen? Twelve!
"I'm Reporter Renaa from the Patibil."
He flinched again. Get a grip on yourself, he growled to himself.
"Would you like to begin the interview?" she asked, smiling. Shay's heart faltered, as he nodded, stiffly.
"Please have a seat," he said, his voice gruff, gesturing to the metal chairs in the corner. As they walked over and took his seat, Shay marvelled at how she made everything feel cold and hard and dull, now that she was here. He had sat in this room, in this chair for years now - and they had felt comfortable enough. But everything about her was so warm, and soft and bright, everything else paled.
"First of all, what would you like to say about the Four Hours of Armistice?"
Captain Shay made a derisive sound. "It's inconvenient, to say the least. My soldiers are getting impatient - nobody wants impatient soldiers."
He watched the disapproval on her face settle into disgust, as she clicked her recording device on and off. It made his chest pang in weird ways.
"You do not agree?" he asked.
"I'm sure many do not agree."
"I'm sure all my fellow Captains could not agree more."
"Our viewers would like to know more about the people who lead them. What made you want to join the Tumult?"
A bark of laughter left him. "We've all been part of the Tumult since the day of Occupation, Madam Rena... But, I decided to be a part of the Agmen when I was sixteen. My town was eradicated."
Her eyes widened, but she remained quiet.
"We witnessed horrors... and there had to be something done, to stop them."
"Is that why you decided to commit horrors yourself?" she burst out, her cheeks flushing. It made strange parts of him ache, the color in her cheeks.
His eyebrows rose. She had the decency to look embarrassed.
"We were just wondering... what kind of people do you have to be to - to - "
"I'm as human as you are, Madam Rena!" he interrupted. "I have two eyes that see, two ears that hear... and a heart that beats -"
He removed his helmet, and the strangest sound wrenched itself from her chest. "Shanzian!"
She lurched towards him, and pulled away at the same time, her body conflicted in the strangest way possible. Her face was wet. He reached forward and grabbed her recording device, as she let out another convulsing sob. He flicked it away, and the room was more silent than it had been in years, without its constant beeping.
"How have you been?" he asked her, his voice gruffer than he had thought possible.
In moments, she had launched herself at him. She clung to him, close enough to be a part of him. Sensations that he had not felt in years came back to him, everywhere she touched him. Everywhere she touched him, there were flames, there was a fire raging in that room - and no one noticed it. He breathed in her scent, his hands felt the sides of her body, revelling in their softness.
Then, suddenly, she pushed away, revulsion etched on her face.
"You? You are a part of this killing army?" she asked, incredulous, tears streaming down her face, unstoppable.
His face grew hard. "Renny," he stared. Another sob rolled off her chest, at the sound of that nickname. "I am part of our defence force -"