Despite the Commander not being able to see him, he nodded his head in response to the order. He moved away from his still positioned rifle and cleaned up ever bullet casing, having kept count of how many he had fired. There was no trace of his existence once he was finished, shell casing tucked away into his pack and rifle settled onto his back.

He slipped down and prowled across the yard, making a single walk through of the dead to make certain that no one was faking until he had left. There was nothing, only death, blood and stillness, as was to be expected from facing off against two weapons with the faces of men.

The Soldier moved towards the south side, skirting the building rather than going through it. He took a running jump and caught the edge of the wall before slipping over quietly to settle into the shadows for a moment, his eyes scanning for hostile movements. Then he was up and swaggering from the shadows, and his gloved flesh fingers rose and tugged off the half mask that he always wore on missions and turned his bare face towards the shadows.

"Commander," he acknowledged, aware the other weapon was hidden. Slowly, his eyes flicked up towards the stars above, cold, distant and set in a blackness. Just like them.