Crisis

>it's post Omnic all over again
>he's back in the hot seat, trying to keep some junkers from being beat up by poor, dumb punks
>a few days ago it was the other way around, but with less guns
>to date, he's had to put down thirty eight violent rioters
>thirty eight kids who could have been heroes
>thirty eight pairs of parents who received notices that their children had been participating in riots against "those goddamn clankers"
>seventy six letters about how he's a murderer who doesn't know right from wrong

>he's got blood on his hands again
>this time, he's in egypt
>amari is wounded, wilhelm has to defend them, and the rest of his soldiers are just kids
>kids who don't even have facial hair
>one of them just wrote home to his mother about how he's serving with his hero, Commander Morrison
>he can't stop the bullet that's about to take the kid's life

>he's got them in his sights
>it doesn't matter who did it but someone's going to pay
>he doesn't see the targets anymore
>all he can see are the bright eyes of the soldiers he let down
>the bright eyes splattered in blood
>frozen in fear
>hana's eyes

>Jack jolts awake
>the gun is in his hands - thank god his trigger discipline didn't kick in - and it's pointed at the tv
>the cadet's sleeping on his chest again
>no sign of injuries, heartrate is normal, emotional levels are stable
>those trashy triangle tattoos tucked on her cheek are pulled up
>she must have been having a good dream
>"...guess we can start training at 0530. Rest up, cadet."