Spren of Kindness

In one world, Martin dies at eighteen on one of his first solo missions, terrified and alone, a ring of bruises around his throat. (In that world, the discovery of an eighteen year old, with the scars of a soldier twice his age, triggers questions.) The ISC never retrieves his body. It's not worth it. (The questions trigger outrage.) Reese goes against orders to find the remains of her best friend. She becomes one of the leaders of the revolution, the Tigress, incandescent in her fury. (Mica dies, not by an enemy hand. It only fuels the fire when the recording is found.) In that world, Martin is the spark that brings down the ones who enslaved him, the symbol that people rally to.

In another world, Mica dies in the cold snow, bleeding out red onto white, and Martin follows him, anger and grief guiding him to the gates. In that world, there is no revolution. The death of enemy operative Stiletto, known danger for nearly four years, is celebrated, before his age is discovered, and horrified consternation takes it's place. (If the ISC is putting sixteen year olds on the field, what else are they doing?) But before anything can be done, the Dagger, raging at the loss of the only two people who have ever cared about her, destroys those who took them. In that world, Reese becomes what they all feared, the monster who brings the ISC to power. No one remembers Stiletto and Rapier. They are only two more marks on the list of atrocities the ISC has committed.

In yet another world, Martin breaks. He becomes the monster, a shell that follows orders. (He is the world's villain. He doesn't care. He can't care.) By the end, he is more scar than skin. He is killed by escapees of the program he is a slave to. A single shot. The sniper who does it calls it a kindness. (Everyone agrees.) Mica leaves the escapees to make his own path. He is the only one to make it more than two weeks. (A month later, he is shot by Nassau, who killed the one who should have been Mica's brother.)

(When he is not a child soldier, he doesn't survive. Bombs, hunger, natural disasters. There is no escape for him in those worlds.)

In this world, he is a soldier. He has nothing to distinguish himself from his companions. He is a listener, an observer. He follows orders. (It's better, now. This is not the ISC.) He learns to trust. Deep down, he harbors a hope that maybe, it can be made right. It's drowned by the learned fear that seeps through his bones. It's safer this way. He is safer. (He can't take a betrayal.) These people know more of him than almost anyone. He will not let them know everything. (He doesn't want to be alone.) He will follow orders. And maybe, he can heal. (He wants to.)

(Is not allowed to.)

(Is?)