The bus rumbled as it drove along the road, vibrating the window and his head as he attempted to sleep. It wasn’t that he was tired, so much as it was to ignore anyone else on the bus. A conversationalist he could be sometimes, but now was not one of those times. There was too much controversy and opinion in the air, which is why he wasn’t in uniform. The only thing on him to indicate he’d ever served were the dog tags around his neck, or perhaps the thin memorial bracelet he wore to commemorate the fallen among those he’d served.
Incessant chatter behind him made him sigh, and after a moment he turned around to glare at those behind him, though the anger in his eyes dissipated when he saw it was a young mother with a child doing his best to behave. She smiled apologetically before opening a book and trying to read to her son, so he just dealt with the noise and stared out the window at his reflection. His hair was dark, though his eyes were lighter. Hazel, he thought the color was called. His mother likened them to an overcast day that, like his personality, could remain calm and complacent, or stir up in a rage before unleashing his fury. She wasn’t wrong. Rubbing his chin a moment, he took note of the few days’ growth, resolving to shave when he got the chance.
He’d gotten on the bus in D.C., and was heading…well, he didn’t really have a destination. He’d just walk off at a stop when he felt like it, and try to pick up a new life. He’d done it before, he could do it again. The only thing he wasn’t sure he could do is stop worrying over if he should have stayed longer in Saigon. Modern warfare disgusted him, however, and he had to keep reminding himself that there was no glory in bombing innocents. He was fully aware innocents could be casualties, but it was less likely with bow or sword than it was with guns and bombs. Hell, he didn’t even really have an issue with most guns. While the distaste for his forte had been slowly growing, it had been Nagasaki that had turned his stomach and made him want to give it all up.
He smirked for a moment before letting it fade. Ares, the God of war, being sick and tired of war. His sister (half-sister, really) had been amused as well. Athena had mocked him lightly, but understood his feelings. Other family members tended to mock him for it, some worse than others, though Athena was not his only sympathizer.
The bus moved on, rolling through several major areas to drop off and pick up passengers. He managed to doze at one point, sometime before they were due to cross some state line or another. He’d no idea where they were when he did manage to wake, the bus readying to pull off the highway and into some city or another. Opting this time to step off the bus and stretch, he did so. It didn’t dawn on him right away, but a few minutes before the bus was due to leave, he realized he felt a small sense of contentment and peace. He got the driver to get his things, shouldered his backpack and walked out of the station.
This side of the station seemed a bit more hopeful, somehow. Sure, the world was in chaos, and he knew damn well he didn’t have rose-tinted glasses, but something felt right. A quick stop for a coffee and a glance at a newspaper told him he was in Georgia – Savannah specifically. This knowledge in hand, he looked for a place to stay – one that didn’t ask a lot of questions. He would stay there a week, maybe a month at the longest, looking for work in the meantime as some way to occupy himself, though the more important part was crafting a new identity. The 60’s were nearly over after all, and it was time to shed his Alex Montgomery persona.