Aslan was ten years older than Lance, which was something he really did not expect. He only learned of his age after asking people that had been there for as long as he could remember, and they told him Aslan was 30. It was crazy, how he was 30 and the general of such a group.

Lance wanted to figure out more about Aslan, but he decided that he'd need to know more about the situation at hand first. He was not yet considered even one of the veterans, so he had to figure things out himself.

That's when he started asking around.

Lance already knew that they were killing people because they were sick. Aslan had said that they were infected, many times before their missions. But Lance never knew with what. Was it some mental kind of sick? Or was this a disease in need of control?

He knew that he and all the soldiers here were immune; had to be, or else they couldn't work here, and yet they wore masks during their missions either way. Definitely some physical kind of sickness.

Aslan called them lucky, because of this fact.

Yet, Lance was still confused. Most of the people in the towns seemed like normal, living and breathing humans. It made no sense to kill so many because of an unnoticeable sickness.

He never knew it was just because they were always on time to kill them.

Aslan slammed the rolled up map down on the table, opening it in haste. "We forgot a town," he had spoken urgently. "Milones, right here. The Detection Group didn't notify us of anything, until now. It's been at least a week since that area was filled with people, there's no doubt that we have to go there, today."

So they went on their way to Milones, and most of them didn't know what to expect, except for the veterans there.

The moment Lance stepped out of their broken down jeep, the grip on his gun tightened subconsciously. The entire town was in chaos, and he had never seen something quite as unhinged.

The people—how many, Lance did not know—were hysteric. They seemed to have lost their minds, as others merely lay motionless on the ground. If this had been another situation, Lance would have found it a little funny that people were laying straight, face down on the ground. But, in this situation, it was unsettling. If anyone asked, he'd admit that he was afraid.

"Why are they like this?" Lance asked, his voice nearly inaudible over the screams, and Aslan sighed through his mask.

He didn't say anything for a few moments, as the rest of the soldiers unloaded from the car with their weapons. It was only after the car's door had slammed shut, that he spoke. "This sickness, whatever is it, first messes with you mentally, and then physically. It's incurable, as of now, and it takes two weeks before people start dying because of the pain. They go insane for one week, and they live through hell for the next." Aslan stopped, and if Lance could see his face, he'd think that Aslan was wincing at memories. "There have been no survivors, ever since this started. So," he seemed to have remembered why they were here, loading his gun, checking his revolver, "Here we are. To relieve them of this."

-

i've been paying too much attention in history class and we're learning all about genocides and war and death so i guess this is where this story comes from (also the song so ist es immer because i love it)