"Commander, Commander! Sir, we've been ambushed again, and this time it's far worse than the last. We won't be able to hold out for long without reinforcements!"
Inside the grandest tent of the military camp, an old man sat, the weight of command etched onto his face. Time had dusted his hair with gray, and his deep-set eyes held untold stories. Yet, it was his unmistakable, imposing presence that truly defined him, a silent force in any gathering. His generals stood before him, barely daring to breathe too loudly, lest they further irritate his already frayed temper.
"You all heard him. What say you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
"Sir," the lead general saluted, "permission to speak freely, Sir."
"Go on," the Commander replied, a hint of impatience in his tone.
"I think we should use extreme force on them," the general stated. "It seems we've been too lenient all this while, and perhaps now they think we are afraid."
"And how do you propose this extreme force be executed?" another general interjected, a bad premonition blooming within his mind.
"Let's get the 'God of War' involved," the lead general answered, his eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty intensity.
Immediately, the tent fell into a dead silence. The generals exchanged wary glances, reminiscing about an unspoken, terrifying past. A palpable fear permeated the air.
With the facial expression of one who had seen beyond life and death, the Commander spoke, "Then it's decided. I wanted them dead with their bodies intact, but they were too ignorant of what was good for them. Now, I'll show them who truly calls the shots. Get me Michael!"
"Sir, shouldn't we reconsider?" one general pleaded, his eyes desperately searching for support among his colleagues. "That would be overkill. Michael is a butcher. I know we can still think of something better than unleashing a madman to run rampant. He should be our last resort, shouldn't he?" Some generals nodded their heads in agreement, but their dissent was fleeting.
"No, it's decided. Summon Michael," the Commander declared with chilling finality.
The generals stood, offered their salutes, and left, the weighty decision hanging heavy in the air.
Atop a hill overlooking the camp, a handsome young man stood, his back ramrod straight, detached from the world around him. He clutched a moon-shaped necklace, his gaze fixed on the void. His face was oval-shaped, framed by curled eyelashes, and his deep eyes were impenetrable, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts. He possessed a pointed nose and red lips so captivating that women would fall over each other, wholeheartedly willing to die for a mere touch. Tall and with the formidable physique of a warrior, from a distance, he might appear cute, manly, and harmless. Yet, anyone who truly knew him would swear on their life that this person had never smiled once in his entire existence. This, of course, was Michael, lost in the fragmented memories of his childhood.
THROWBACK...
Coming down the grand staircase, the children witnessed their parents sharing a passionate kiss early in the morning and instinctively covered their eyes.
"Mom! Dad!" the cheerful young Michael exclaimed. "I heard these kinds of things are done at night, within closed doors, for a reason!"
"But of course, the skin of parents nowadays is so thick it could be used as a fortress. Too shameless!" his second brother added with a playful grin.
"Oh, maybe they're planning on getting me a sister to dote on!" the youngest brother chirped, his eyes sparkling with expectation.
"Oh, my youngest son is the cutest and smartest of you all!" their mother responded with a loving smile. "Yes, you will be having a sister soon!" Michael and his siblings' pupils practically gouged out in surprise and excitement.
"Seriously, Mum, I've been yearning for this for a long while now!" Michael declared.
"Yes, kids, your father here has been working really, really hard to make this possible," Erick Wilson announced, placing his hands on his waist, muscles protruding in a display of exaggerated manliness.
"Yeah, I know you sure do, that's why I can't seem to sleep in peace at night for days now," the second son teased, while the youngest rolled his eyes playfully at him.
"Hey guys, I'm the one who did the major work here! At the very least, I deserve a thumbs up, right?" Erick prompted, puffing out his chest.
"Yeah, thumbs up for making Mum cry somehow all night!" the second son retorted, much to their mother's amusement.
"Hey, you didn't see anything, right?" Erick Wilson asked, casting a questioning look at his wife, as if to say, 'Honey! We locked the door last time, right?' His wife returned his look with disbelief, clearly stunned by what their children were saying. Just then, the kids burst into laughter.
"Sorry, he was just pulling your legs," Michael clarified, and his parents breathed a collective sigh of relief. Suddenly, they all started laughing together, the sound echoing with warmth and joy.
PRESENTLY...
Remembering the days of his once happy family, Michael smiled, a faint, melancholic curve of his lips, and sighed again and again, the echoes of a lost innocence lingering in the air.