Seeing out of billions of eyes was normal for me, though I somehow knew any other mind would snap under the strain. How would anyone else cope with so much pain? Experiencing death over an over, ending lives over and over? Where an arm that looked as though it had been mulched and glued back together with coagulating, lumpy blood was the barest annoyance hardly worth noticing except for the tactical disadvantage it represented, I experienced more and less than this gruesome injury daily without a twitch. I suppose I'd grown used to not focusing on one body, and using entire platoons of bodies like a stage of meticulously crafted finger puppets.

So why had the sight of a young woman, only seen from two eyes in a single head, stopped several billion hearts at once? How was it that a creature like myself could suddenly find every other view blurred, all objectives moot, each death meaningless, and for the first time ever feel as though i only had a single body. I'd conducted whole battles and micromanaged the precise movements of an entire army, but now found that a single pair of feet weighed several tons, and just one miniscule jaw could no longer close.

I'd seen that color of her gorgeous brown hair before; in fields gardened by artillery and churned by a thousand boots, in the ration bars that tasted ever so slightly sweet and fed a trillion stomachs. Speaking of which, what on earth was that sensation in this one? Was it an urge to vomit? Was I experiencing a heart attack? This uncomfortable fluttering was new, perhaps another thing brought on by this woman.

I had to say something, but what could I say? I'd only ever communicated orders and information with things that were not a part of my army. The finer points, or any points at all, of speaking with someone on friendly terms had been deemed unecessary. I would undoubtedly make a fool of myself, at worst even scare her off.

"Hello, can I help you?" As the non-cloned humans might say: fuck. She'd approached first. For an omnipotent commander to find itself ambushed, what shame!

"I'm not sure," I started, buying time for the brains of my legion to think of SOMETHING to say! Tactics, enemy movements, troop formations-THIS DOESN'T HELP! "I was sweeping the area for combatants when I saw you. Considering the lack of a gun and the fact you're not trying to kill me, I'd say you're a civilian. What are you doing this close to the fight?"

"Oh! You're one of those clone soldiers they talk about in the news!" she said, suddenly excited and curious. She shook herself. "I didn't answer your question, sorry. Yes, i'm a civilian. I'm here looking for something I lost in the evacuation, it's very important to me."

I raised an eyebrow, unknowingly doing the same across hundreds of other faces as I looked at the bombed out streets around us. "Lost here? That might take forever in this rubble, you'd be lucky to not be buried alive in the unstable concrete." Way to be charming Mr. Doom and Gloom. "Since I haven't seen anyone else here so far, I might be able to request some help finding what you're looking for."

"Would you really?! Thank you so much!" She said, smiling from ear to ear. An entire military suddenly found itself blushing at the sight. I couldn't decide which forest green eye to look into. She stuck out a hand to shake. "My name is Daisy, what's yours?" Oh hell, a name? Which one? The serial number of the clone she was speaking to? The name of the project that made me? How the fuck do i put a name for so many stupid assholes into one word? Maybe I'll make something up?

"I'm... Jake," I said, slowly reaching out to shake her hand and probably staring too much. "What are we looking for, Daisy?"

"It's a really old wooden chest, with a brass latch on the front," she said, spreading her hands wide to give an idea of the size. She moved her hands a lot when she talked, I noticed. "It's full of family heirlooms and photos from five generations in my family. It was too big and heavy to take during the evac, but it's too important to leave abandoned. I doubt even a bomb could have destroyed it, that thing was made sturdy."

A squadron of clones came around the corner, startling the both of us. I felt stupid a moment later, feeling like I'd jumped at my own shadow. "Oh wow," Daisy said, looking from one identical face to the next as they approached, "it's different from seeing clones on tv. I imagine it's pretty easy to get along?"

"Something like that," I said, catching myself from using every voice at once. "Where can we start looking?"

"My old apartment is only a couple blocks away, the chest can't have gone too far from there," she said, starting to walk. Her legs looked amazing in jeans, and her boots were sturdy but cute in their own way. "You know, I kind of feel like I'm on a treasure hunt!"

"What does that make me?" I asked. "The pirate captain leading his band of scurvy dogs to a buried chest?" A few clones chuckled at the same time Daisy giggled. Suddenly I had a new favorite sound.

"Maybe," she said teasingly. "Promise to keep me safe from all of these ruffians, Captain?" From firsthand experience, I could say with certainty that an artillery detonation in the face had less of a kick than her words.

"Maybe, but I think you're in good hands," I said, smiling as I followed her.

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