15 millimetres is all that separates me from the world. 8.29 millimetres is all that pushes it back. Hun Liuxing was staring at her full head and face helmet and a single rifle round grasped between her fingers. Hun Liuxing is the paragon of foreign indoctrination. She did was she was told to do, and more. For her God. A while ago, she was an adopted child in a wealthy family, and lived comfortably. But no longer. After the destruction of her house, she was homeless in a country that wasn't her own. Her name wasn't even in her native language. Hun looked up. She pondered at the ceiling of her stucco house. Loading the rifle round into her magazine, She glanced at the pistol holstered on her waist. She giggled. This CV19 probably didn't even qualify as a pistol. She unbuttoned her fatigue top off, but left the brown undershirt and armor on, just in case. All she wanted to do was live a peaceful life. But she was now on a crusade for the good of the common people. Unlike others, her sleep was not peaceful. It was plagued by horrid dreams and interruptions in her REM cycle.

She had one dream, which she considered a vision, and fate. In it she lay with a major concussion, two fatal gunshots in her abdomen, and a knee bent at an angle in which only a compound fracture would allow. Her rifle was nowhere to be found, and the CV19 was clutched like a blood-stained teddy bear in her left hand. All this occured in the center of a perfectly white room with no exits, with blood splattered on the walls. At least the room would have been perfect. Liuxing instantly calculated that if all the blood across the room was hers, she would be unconscious. From what felt like the sky, she heard what sounded like angelic singing. It was getting closer. Beckoning from the heavens she could not see, something told her to stand up. I can't. Hun finally realized not even her willpower could stop a mangled knee. It appeared as if a thousand other voices joined the harmony. Liuxing now had to. Hoisting herself into a kneeling position, she started bawling. Her knee wasn't getting any better. Her head bent, tears streamed down her tanned and surprisingly pretty face. She slowly looked up, and her tears dried. She saw the most beautiful thing anyone had bled in front of. Thousands of clouds illuminated by a golden sunset suddenly filled the sky. A choir of hundreds of white robed and perfect, glowing angels filled the sky. Hun soon discovered her jaw was broken when she smiled, and began to look down and cry again. Struggling through the pain, Hun cried one sentence fragment. "I'm tired." One robed figure in particular spoke in a soothing voice. "It's okay. You can rest. Please, come back when you need us." The angels faded upwards along with Hun's vision. She chambered a round from a new magazine in her CV, lay on her side. While her eyes were closing for the second time that night, she knew she what she needed to do the next day.