The sounds of gunfire and soldiers exploded out, piercing through the dusty sky from the surrounding battlefield. Corpses, littering the very ground where they stood. Their limbs scattered around as they were blasted apart from their torsos, lying in a mound of mud at its very base, a pool of blood encasing their corpses. Their cold eyes ever so prevalent as their expression of despair and misery was painted upon their faces. Soldiers grasped their rifles as they recoiled from the rounds of lead that bursted forth from their guns barrel into the bodies of their opposition, the sound of them thudding onto the cold muddy ground cut out through the chaos that ensued. Tanks, artillery, and air support dropping heavy gunfire and bombs into the frontlines of their foes, the sounds of their deathly wails and many others cutting throughout the vast battlefield so ever slightly hinting at the scenery present.

Soldiers, losing their firm and cold demeanor from behind their visors and armour, screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs at the loss of their comrades and friends. Their minds clouded with the emotions of rage, despair, and fear. Their facial expressions contorting into ways never seen before as they drowned in those lakes of emotion.

It was again, the start, of another war.

War, being followed by the notions of death, suffering, pain, loss. It was the true incarnation of death and chaos itself.

Among those participating within the battlefield, were a small few who moved through the battlefield as though it were their playground, some, their home. These small few being the true incarnations of death themselves. One of these people being the young man named Nicholas Gray. He bore a suit of military armour evidently informing others of his division, as an assassin or scout of types that revolved around the notion of stealth. Just like the other blessed soldiers on his side, the colours of black and blue faded into one another as they meshed together to provide a somewhat dark toned blue.

He was nothing special at first glance for a soldier of his caliber. He had a tall broad frame of 185 centimeters in height, covered in muscle and scars from head to toe beneath the light material of armour, his eyes bearing a cold glint through the slits of his tinted visor, as his hands grasped onto the grips of a rifle of at least 90 centimeters in length. The armour he wore was of the Mjolnir Gen 1 variant aimed for the role, as stated before, as a scout or assassin of sorts.

This primarily due to the armours material harboring innate properties that leant towards the use of stealth. The rifle he grasped was known as the BR85N SR, or a Battle Rifle for short. It shot bursts of 3 bullets that easily pierced the enemy forces armour. At his side, was a combat knife of 43 centimetres in length, the blade being of 20 centimeters in length itself. It was made of a high carbon steel and had an edge coat that resisted against corrosion and rust. The combat knife itself, sheathed away, awaiting for further use.

As the soldier wiped away the accumulation of blood, dust, and viscera from his visor, he began to scan the battlefield behind the visors tinted surface, behind this tinted surface, his eyes were cold and intense, bearing the mark of death. His face, covered in a nonchalant expression as he took a stance, not shortly after spotting a target, he placed his right foot steadily in front of him as he placed his left knee down towards the ground in a kneeling position, afterwards taking aim with his rifle in hand.

Without hesitation, his finger pulled the trigger, death, taking over every carefully planned shot. His hands moved dexterously while his eyes scanned the battlefield from behind the cover of objects that plagued the battlefield, his eyes darting back and forth as his enemies dropped like flies to his well placed shots. His body moving like the wind as he went from cover to cover, dodging bullets at speeds no normal person could muster.

He was in his natural element. Lost in focus, time going by, as men ran past him onwards to their objective at the cost of their lives. The same could be said for the soldiers on the opposing side as they mindlessly ran into their own deaths, into Nicholas.

It went for hours, an endless slaughter, just like the wars and conflicts prior to this. Nicholas, naturally felt no sympathy nor empathy to consider the other sides thoughts or ongoing problems that lead for this situation to arise. He was but a soldier amidst an army of amassed recruits and veterans, even if he were to have a say, were it to have any effect?

These were the thoughts he began to have shortly after taking part in the new spartan program that was meant to genetically, physically, mentally, and technically enhance his ever growing body. Sadly, this resulted in having something important, something that made every person human, taken from him.

His emotions.

In order to show no reaction to the tendencies of war and the perils that lay within it, there was a need to get rid of them or limit them per say. This was all part of the spartan program that was incorporated years ago. His suit of armor that wore the colours of his nation brimming in all its elegance was one of the few things that was unique for genetically modified humans such as himself, it was practically their skin per say.

The reason Nicholas joined this program was for the sake of a childhood friend, a friend that could even be considered family. This being partly due to the lack of family he had, and perhaps due to the fact he was an orphan. But no matter, his friend was of the utmost importance in his mind. In his times of need, his friend had stood there for him, in his times of despair, grief, pain, fear. He was there. He was the light that appeared in the dark, he was family.

Unfortunately, as time passed, things managed to happen every now and then, either it be for good or for worse. These being either due to bad luck, fate, god's work, be it whatever, it happened, and by it, he meant what made him join this program, what lead him to losing his humanity.

Nicholas’ friend had suffered from some rare illness of sorts that lead to limited function of the brain, this becoming pretty prevalent during the passing years. This resulting in a limited use of limbs, the effects gradually and slowly taking hold as it began to affect normal day to day activities. By this time he couldn’t walk, move his arms, or do anything for that matter.

As fear began to grip at Nicholas’ throat at the thought of the loss of his friend, he frantically searched for a solution. Only to stumble upon this program. Hence, where he has come to today, to the present.

As Nicholas was moving side to side performing basic maneuvers engraved into him during his training, he felt a slight thud around the area of his chest. More specifically, on the left side of his chest. As he began to slow in movement, he stopped taking the offensive and began to stagger to cover. He slumped back, back facing against a large rock, the texture of its rough surface scratching upon contact against his armour. He placed his rifle beside him as he began to further inspect the shot that had taken him by surprise to only be found dumbfounded at the sight of blood trickling down in what seemed like litres upon litres of blood.

His face began to pale at the sight of his untimely demise. The shot had seem to be taken from a sniper rifle of a few hundred meters away as he steadily began to organise his mind in acceptance of his new found fate. A sliver of blood slipped outward from his clenched teeth from behind the safety of his visor. His eyes turning down in intensity as both his mouth and eyes curved into a slight crescent. His strained and slowed breathing becoming ever more apparent as his face and skin lost their splendent colour as they paled in response to the heavy loss of blood.

Death. It wasn’t a new concept to him, but he had never been one to receive it. Only to have given it. He never thought about the complications of death itself, what happened after, what it felt like, what it is. It was all a blur as he began to think of the friends he had accumulated over years of camaraderie and friendship. His close friend who was practically family, his regrets, his guilt.

It was quite unnerving considering this experience. For some unforsaken reason, the limiter that had limited his emotions began to fall apart. His brain was flooded with new information, new feelings. Anger, Sadness, Joy, Indignation, Disdain, Helplessness, it all came to him now in large floods of information

‘Why? Why now?’ he began to inquire to no one but himself, as the ever encompassing darkness that began to encroach himself and his surroundings became so ever evident to him. In this space he felt time fly by as he floated through the darkness. Waiting helplessly for this torment to end.

‘How long has it been? Where am I? When will this end?’ Countless thoughts appeared and disappeared as he waited in utter silence at what occurred.

But suddenly, as fast as the darkness had approached and surrounded him. He woke up with a start as he opened his flustered eyes and darted his head back and forth in a vain attempt to comprehend his surroundings.

What lay before him was a forest, a large amount of foliage spread across the floor as both flora and fauna came into play as large canopies covered the vast sky from where he sat.

‘Now where the fuck am I?’