Sociopath

Sociopath

Unknown Forest World, two months after Demeter.

Clock check: twelve hundred hours.
A blazing sun kept the temperature high as a team of four Pilots navigated lush overgrowth. Humid air and feverish insects pestered the small fireteam without end, putting a damper on the already downer morale.

Lieutenant Collins was a very good listener, very difficult to stir, and he could tell they were irritable this afternoon. Between the mile of walking, the weather and the insects, they were all on edge and at each other's throats. But that was not all that bothered them, and Collins knew it: The fireteam was down a man. And that bothered them more than anything.

Their leader, a tall woman hacking away at brush and vines with a machete, seemed to disregard the other three. She stomped ahead with her own agenda, ignoring them, cutting away a path the others happened to follow by coincidence and not because she was in charge. That maltreatment was hardly beneficial for morale. Collins paid it no mind, like usual, he had a degree of faith in the newly appointed Major, but Beckett and Reed were not so forgiving.

Boss-lady Simons stopped, pointing her machete ahead.

"Four men ahead, ten more down the path," she grunted "probably a patrol."

"Good," Beckett chimed in, amused "we take them out quick, and then- hey where are you going?!"

Major Riley was already ahead of him, and Collins followed her. Carefully laid plans and schemes were the doing of others, not her. And the Lieutenant knew this.

Further down the route, two Militia grunts paced around a small patch of grass around a tall boulder and making a bunch of meaningless small talk for their time. Not far from those two grunts another pair stood smoking while looking off into the woodlands.
Before anyone realized what was going on Riley tackled one of the pacing grunts and rammed the machete into his stomach and moved onto the next. A terrified shriek alerted his comrade.

The second infantryman was too slow on the draw and Riley pushed his gun upward. Suddenly a burst of lead fired into the sky and the sound echoed through the woods. The Major drove her machete into the man's stomach, quickly she pulled it free and sliced his forearm off his elbow. A final punch put the grunt in the ground, and he was done for.

Collins simply put a short burst into the other two grunts while she did so. Reed and Beckett approached, the disturbing sight laid before them. Riley looked back at her trio of squad mates, as if wondering why they were simply standing around.
"Push forward through the woods, don't let them get away!" She commanded. Riley barreled down the grass opening and charged at the insurgents. Before they could tell her otherwise, she was gone.

"Riley, wait!" Beckett groaned in frustration, chasing after her with Reed right behind him. Collins simply followed without a word.

The Militia squadron was surprised, they had not expected the IMC to catch up with them so quickly. Given time and planning the Pilots could easily wipe out the insurgents, but Riley took that time away. Riley blitzed ahead, vaulting over a fallen log and spraying into three of the less proactive infantrymen.  Collins pursued, firing a burst into two of the scattering riflemen as he closed the distance with Simons.

The survivors dispersed rapidly. They called out the attackers and dashed for cover all at once. A trio of riflemen had ducked behind a mossy tree trunk. Two emerged and fired a volley only to be promptly cut down by a hail of gunfire from the Major. Their comrade stood up and chucked a grenade before he too found a stray bullet in his throat.

That grenade landed in the dirt behind Riley's boot. She was rather slow to notice it, too busy fighting off a bold insurgent attempting to stab her to care.

Beckett bolted over and kicked the grenade aside, only to be promptly blasted in the stomach by a distant marksman. He collapsed onto the ground, clutching a bloody wound. Reed quickly sprinted to his side, gunning down the sniper and two others when suddenly-

BOOM
The grenade detonated in a nearby hillock, its explosion deafening the combatants briefly and sending buckets of mud into the air. Demoralized and in shock, the remaining Militia attempted a fighting retreat up the mound. They sprayed haphazardly at their aggressors, trying their best to deter further pursuit. The counter barrage was merciless, a maelstrom of lead that pelted the dirt and tore many of the escapees apart.

One man took a bullet in the stomach, only for his comrade to cart him off amidst the torrent of gunfire.

While the initial number of ten was off, as a brief count returned no less than twenty among the insurgents, Collins was quite satisfied with the results Hydra Team returned. As he looked on at Riley, staring off into the distance where the two survivors escaped, he guessed Riley was not.

Meanwhile, Beckett rose from his position and injected himself with a medical syringe. Dutifully, the Pilot's bloody right hand covered a significant stomach wound. Joseph removed his helmet, his face contorted in a snarl "What the fuck was that about Riley?!"

She looked over his shoulder at him and said nothing.

"You can't just blitz in there like that." Reed cut in.

The Major groaned "Two survivors, up the hill. Let's go."

"No fucking way," Reed replied "Beckett's hurt we can't just-"

"He'll catch up. Let's go."(edited)
Anna too removed her helmet and bared her teeth at the stoic Major. Without another word, she pulled Beckett close and guided him back down the trail. Riley grunted and looked on at the Lieutenant "C'mon Collins, it's you and me."

She began hiking up the mountainside, and Collins followed.

Hunting down the insurgents wasn't particularly difficult, the bloody trail left by the injured one gave them a rather easy path to follow. They trekked past the open field where the Militia had congregated, over the hill where the retreating survivors were cut down, and crested the top into a clearing in the forest.

Luckily, the two hadn't made it very far. Riley emerged from the brush and spotted them, a single warning shot all that was needed to stop them dead in their tracks. Both riflemen looked up and saw the two Pilots, their eyes went wide with fear. The injured man was dropped as his compatriot fearfully scurried backward against a tree stump.

Riley stepped ahead, calmly. Her attention first directed on the bleeding figure in the grass.(edited)
Without a second's hesitation or remorse, she stomped her foot on the man's wound. He cried out in pain, groaning and whimpering and squirming. Through gurgled breaths one could faintly hear a cry for help. She stood there motionless for a second, putting slightly more weight on the wound.

Collins watched her intently, inspecting her every movement. She reminded him of something, a specific term that eluded him right then, a word that fit her perfectly. It was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite pin it down.

She poised her weapon at the dying man and squeezed the trigger, a single point-blank shot from her rifle tore the right side of his face to shreds. Blood, brains and the shattered remains of his head sprayed all over the peaceful grassy field. His comrade shrieked in fear.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" The outlaw shouted, as Riley drew closer. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" He pleaded, and Riley walked on calmly.
In a vain attempt to save himself, the grunt ripped out his combat knife and lunged ahead. He swiped at her only to be deflected and promptly disarmed, sent flying back into the tree stump. The woman growled at this resistance.

Lieutenant Collins examined his superior. Was it sadism? Not quite...
Riley gripped her rifle tightly. She sent the full force of the stock ramming into the infantryman's face skull, the impact resonating with a bone chilling CRACK as his skull split open. Bloodied and half conscious, she admired her handiwork, then struck him again. And again, and again, and again, each successive strike more forceful than the last.

Such violence was unnecessary, the man was long dead, but she didn't care. She was euphoric. Each blow gave her a momentary, fleeting catharsis, briefly filling a void that was promptly drained. A short-lived pleasure that died quicker than she could savor it. No, it wasn't just unnecessary, it was hedonistic.

There was little more than bloody pulp left by the time she was through. Her shoulders rose and dropped as she tried to catch up with herself. Exhausted, bloodied,  perhaps even ashamed (if only a little).

Riley took off her helmet and spat on the rifleman's corpse.

"Bastard had it coming!"

She looked back at the Lieutenant with the hollow eyes of a frenzied killer, wide and blank and accompanied by a self-satisfied half smile.

Finally, Collins remembered that enigmatic word, and it couldn't fit more:

Sociopath.