Dream ╬ 005
It's always raining in the Junkyard.
On the battlefield, two groups of soldiers are engaged in combat, gunfire echoing off the walls of destroyed buildings. Both were in gray to match the combat zone save for the paint that distinguished their tribes - red on one side and yellow on the other. As was usual for this sort of situation, the two groups were at a standstill.
Then there's a brief flash of violet and silver, and one of the yellow-painted soldiers cries out and falls. Their eyes trained on the enemies in front of them, they aren't expecting twin daggers to the back. Two more fall victim to the silent assassin before others begin to take notice of him.
As one tries to fire at him, a throwing dagger wedges itself into the side of the rifle, causing it crackle and malfunction.
Bat soon appears on the edge of the battlefield, ducking behind another rock outcropping as he makes his way away from his own scene of carnage. His face in unpainted, eyes still the dull gray of his pre-awakened state. This Bat is not yet of the Maribel, but the look he receives from Jinana as crosses to the side of those painted red makes it clear he might soon be.
The daggers are sheathed, and the man doesn't smile at his accomplishments. He just nods and falls to the back of the ranks.
---
Bat sits up groggily, rubbing at his eyes. A faint "Hmm" is muttered, but nothing more. That's all the past.