I am taken through a Bootcamp for about a month with many other students. The training grounds are a patchwork of Solar and American training fatigues. Many complain and moan about the training, even going as far as to try and say no to the drill instructor. I never expected the old man to be able to scream so loud. One month of training also seems really short to me. From my foggy memory, standard military training is like three months usually. Who knows? Maybe we are considered trained because of the school's training-focused curriculum.

During training, we are taught to fire guns outside of our AMS. This was very fun to watch the other students struggle with this. Apparently, firearms are pretty much banned in most countries now. No wonder terrorist groups run amok, no one can stop them. I do my best during all the training. As one of the few who actually focus on my body not just piloting skills, I do well enough gaining little praise but most importantly getting no flak for anything. I guess that means I am doing well.

Eventually, training comes to an end. There is no graduation. No pat on the back. We all are just told to get inside our AMS and await orders for deployment. It is time for war. I simply gulp once and steel my nerves. I walk to the hangar and see Wendigo awaiting me. There are only minor armor tweaks it seems, some extra angling and whatnot, but I do notice reinforcement of the wrist and knuckles. Probably in response to me breaking my wrist every time I punch anything, makes sense. I shrug at the addition as it makes the quality of life far greater.

I climb the ladder and before I slide down the chute I hear a feminine voice like silk call out to me. I look in the direction where it came from and look upwards a little to the AMS parked next to me. The AMS next to me is a light powder blue which seems to be reflective and shiny from the way the hangar lights hit it. It is feminine in figure with two massive blades attached to the forearms. The most striking feature is the large cape which goes to the head and looks like a hood. The left-hand holds a scepter of some kind. I assume it to be some sort of shooting weapon. Its blank face holds a large V on it. I know this one without looking it up. This AMS must be called the Hierophant.

Continuing to look up I spy a person perched on top of the AMS waving towards me. They are wearing a skintight but protective-looking suit in the same color as the AMS they pilot. The back of the AMS is folded open for the pilot to enter. The gears in my head keep turning about who the other pilot could be. Then I see the long platinum locks of hair stream down as they remove their helmet. It's that girl I met at the supper... Her name was Eloise? Maybe that sounds right.

I wave back at her with a smile and she points to a sign hanging by a rope in front of Wendigo. It's a bright red sign with the number eight on it. I look at it and look back at her and shrug. She then points at the one in front of hers. It is also eight. I guess that means we are squad eight? I give a thumbs-up before descending down my hole and onto my chair. The settings have been reset so I take a moment to get them back to my most comfortable settings.

I let out a long breath. I again hype myself up for what needs to be done. In the end, I find it hard to be hyped. I feel empty. A nothingness where emotion does not exist nor can it exist. I don't know where this feeling comes from. Maybe it's my mind and body accepting the burden I must face. I ignore the empty feeling and kick the pedal. The spines easily slide deep into my spine and I go black.

Rather than slowly booting up I am instantly in control and have full senses about me.

(Hey. What's with the quick startup)

[Oh ya know. I'm a good housewife and left the engine running]

(Okay, and what does that mean in AMS terms)

[Well, don't tell anyone but some of the data I sent for upgrades included one I created for myself. It allows me to further remain awake when you arent here. It lets me do more complicated things while waiting. It also keeps the metaphorical engine warm meaning I can instantly boot us up. I do believe it could be useful for combat.]

(Sounds good to me. Just no funny business)

[Of course not! The nuclear launch codes are far too hard to hack!]

(Okay buddy.)

[I will also take the liberty at some point to hand over your old combat skills. Im currently editing the memories to ignore the actual substance and just giving you the skills.]

(Why?)

[So you are a better fighter, and also so my hard drives don't get microwaved.]

(Fair enough, but still. What's with that order of not giving me my memories?)

[Wish I could tell you. I cannot sadly so we gotta keep going like this.]

(Alright me. You ready to pick up the old trade?)

[Of course, I'm ready me. I am always ready]

With that, I go to the coalition communication channel and listen for orders.

The communicator jumps to life as the captain begins his orders,

"Alright, heavy infantry squadron eight. I see that you all are ready and suited up. You will be fully briefed along the way, you will be dropping into a semi-hot zone. This is going to be in Alaska where our enemy likes to frequent. Now please walk your AMS to the heavy transport outside."

I give a 'Yes Sir' before walking out of the hangar followed by the other AMS under signs reading eight. The hierophant is coming along with two production model AMS. They are colored red and green respectively and have no surprising features. They both are ranged class with some sort of energy weapons attached to their shoulders. There is also a dark black AMS with the Marshals insignia on it. I guess that one is our support. It simply is armed with what looks like a P90 but chambered in 50 BMG.

The transport ahead is a massive flying vehicle. It has a ramp extended and I walk up into the heavy vehicle. I am directed to the center slot in front of all the others. The captain wasn't lying. I guess I am in charge here. Heavy clamps come down and hold me in place as everyone else gets in their slots. I make myself comfortable not sure how long the flight is. As everyone gets clamped the ramp closes and the vehicle begins lifting off. I guess we are in a hurry.

The communications come to life again as a voice I don't recognize begins briefing us,

"Today you all will be dropping into a known terrorist-held area. Our forces have been facing heavy resistance as well as enemy AMS activity. Your goal is to support our boys and make sure those enemy AMS are dealt with along with any other armored vehicles. We have air support on standby but don't call it in too much. These guys have MANPADS so we could lose a bird.

There are two targets today. A large supply base and what we believe to be a manufacturing plant for weapons or something similar. How they got these up and running before we noticed is beyond me. If our infantry cannot secure and destroy these places it will be up to you all to become the demolition crew.

Now for squad composition. The squad leader will be Mike Richardson in the Wendigo. He was given the rank of sergeant from the big brass, so listen to him when it comes to details outside of commands from here. Good luck ladies and gents. Most of all stay safe."

The communication turns off and I get a message. It gives me a tactical map that has the targets highlighted and gives general approximations of where friendly units are located. It is updated in real-time which is quite helpful. Due to the high-speed nature of our transport, we have about an hour left on our flight. That is good. From the looks of things, heavy support will be greatly appreciated. I decide on a drop zone. It is a simple hill with a fairly flat top. Tree cover on the hill and none on the sides. This will give us good cover from any manner of enemy fire.

I figure out the plan and send the tactical map to everyone in the squad and then I decide it's my turn to give a briefing,

"Alright squad. I have been put in charge by high command. No idea why but they did. I don't expect anything more than your obedience. You don't have to like me or even care about my wellbeing, but if you listen close I will do everything in my power to keep y'all alive. Our mission is simple. Keep our dudes alive and make the bad guys disappear. This may be hard as many of you haven't killed anyone or anything before. Trust me it's not gonna be easy, but if you're gonna freak out do it now or after the fight. We as of this moment are the only things keeping each other alive. Each one of you must watch the others back.

I guess that's all I gotta say. Any questions?"

There is silence so I take that as a no. We fly along in quiet as I check all my gear. I have a new bushmaster cannon that looks real snazzy. It is loaded with APDS rounds in one and three configurations with the fourth being a tracer. These rounds are very good at killing enemy AMS and reducing infantry to chunky salsa. I also have carried on my back a four-shot ATGM launcher. I had this equipped after possible enemy tanks were spotted. The tactical map confirms this.

The lights in the cargo bay turn red and I prepare myself. An electronic voice rings out telling all pilots to prepare for drop. When the flyer gets above the designated drop zone the floor opens up beneath us and the clamps let go.

I land gracefully as the drop was about ten meters and the hydraulics of Wendigos knees can handle much more than that. A couple of the others though fall flat not able to keep balance on the uneven terrain. I wait for them to right themselves. While doing so I check the tactical map and find the closest platoon of infantry. They are currently receiving hate from a few armored vehicles of unknown models.

I rally the squad to tell everyone to fall into a wedge and to keep their eyes open. I take point and begin the little hike towards our destination. I can see the flashes of muzzles in the dim late-night Alaskan sun. The fight looks intense. Luckily no ambush awaits us. I announce our approach to the friendlies and they all seem happy we have arrived. I now can see the enemy's armor. It looks to be a couple IFVs armed with similar guns to mine firing upon the pinned infantry. My bushmaster is actually strong enough to kill them frontally. I don't want to find out if they have anything heavier hiding in the back so I split the squad and tell them to flank. They do so and carefully reach the enemies' sides. It is confirmed they do not have anything heavier. I take a deep breath and order the attack.

I pop over the large hill I'm hiding behind and lay down fire. Most of my shots hit and I see one of the IFVs cook-off before exploding in a fireball. I hear more fighting but I continue my advance. I rush forward and am barely missed a couple of times. My shots are accurate and deadly. Each vehicle meets its demise by my fire alone. I check over the radio on why I was the only one killing and I get a response from Eloise,

"Sir... I apologize but none of us are really... well capable of killing. "

I march over to their position and feel some pain in my side. An armor-piercing round must have hit me in an unimportant location. I feel anger building as I put them in safe positions and they still couldn't get the job done. I know killing is hard, but these were vehicles, far less personal. You don't have to see the body torn apart by your weapons. It's just metal. I know there are people in there, but since I cannot see them I am able to ignore it.

I approach one of the Solars and they begin a half-assed apology and I shove their AMS to the ground. They yelp in surprise and I say calmly into the radio,

"I am not mad that you all failed to kill a person, I can't blame you. It's a huge weight on your soul. It is horrible and terrible, but what I am mad about here is your all lack of situational awareness. This isn't a fight. There aren't any safety features, and there is no guarantee you walk home tonight. This is war. When we are in battle ignore the fact you have any form of morals and soul. Not because of selfishness, but because if you fail to fight, it's not only you who is in danger. I took a hit because I had to win that fight almost alone. It was an unimportant hit, but what if it hit me center mass? What then? Would you have just let them rip you apart?

No, You can worry about morals and cry after the fight. I will. and I'd be more concerned if you don't. Means you're so fucked up it doesn't bother you. Right now though we are fighting. Just don't think of them as human anymore... It's the easiest way. Think of them as monsters and that's not far off. These are terrorists. Monsters in human form.

That's all. Now it's time to move forward and keep more people safe. I apologize for my outburst. I just don't like being left alone like that especially when I am outnumbered. Our strength comes from our ability to coordinate and takedown better foes as a single unit. Now let's go."

The one I pushed over gets up and the rest form up on me. Everyone is quiet. Either mad at me or feeling remorseful. Either is fine with me so long as they do their damn job. I hate to be this way but, to be honest, I'm shaking in my boots. Even though I know I most likely have done something like this before, actually going to war is something different. It's scary but I'm only barely able to keep it together because I have people who depend on me. I don't plan to have anyone I am in charge of defending die.

I check the map to see all forces are moving up and making good time. Tose IFVs seemed to be the only hard targets at the moment. The rest is all infantry, many of which are poorly equipped to fight well-armed and trained marshalls.

This goes on for a bit while my group and I walk onwards scanning the horizon and checking every hole. There are only three firefights along the way. They are swiftly dealt with. Either by my cannon or the platoon on foot below taking them out with precise fire. Then the tactical map gives a warning about enemy AMS being spotted. I check the map and the three enemy AMS seem to be headed in our direction. Classification is still unknown. I order a halt and tell everyone to lower themselves and prepare. I raise my cannon and the others raise their weapons in preparation.

The seconds tick by painfully as I watch the threat get closer on screen. A mixture of trees and hills obscuring our foe. I hold steady and put my finger over the trigger aimed where I predict one will pop up. Then two of the tree AMS crest the hill with a massive volley of fire. They are shooting energy-based weapons. A few blasts of what look like plasma harmlessly splash on my shield doing very little in the way of even hurting them. It appears their weaponry is older in design. I then recognize the pattern of AMS. It's an older model of Solar which they used in the war nineteen years ago but they seem to have some slight upgrades, noticeably reactive armor plates across the chest.

I take aim and with a burst of three rounds, the enemy AMS is hit right through the cockpit. It shudders for a second as the reactive armor explodes, it then falls forward and remains still. Either I killed the pilot or severely injured them. I look to my squad and see them laying hate onto the second one. Blasts of brilliant light dance across the terrain as the enemy AMS is turned to slag. I hear some cheering over the comms as they celebrate their first victory. It's clear the excitement is fake, covering their dread of killing another human. I then turn my attention to the map and wait for the third.

I slowly creep towards the hill where the enemy is supposedly hiding. I peek through the trees and just barely make out brightly colored metal. It's the hull of whatever AMS is hiding. I switch my visuals to thermal and easily make out the heat signature of my foe. I take aim when a burst of plasma fire rips through the trees and forces me to switch to regular vision. The attack came from behind. It's one of my squadmates firing wildly at the enemy. The shots are wild and only serve to set the trees on fire. The enemy leaps over the hill in its full glory. The model is one I don't recognize but is most definitely Solar in make. It also is top of the line from what I can tell.

My shield is instantly decimated by a single shot from some weird electric cannon. I backpedal quickly firing rapidly. The shots hit but do little to no damage. This thing has some serious armor. I tell the squad to scatter and take cover behind hills to not get killed. I keep trying to hit weak points but fail to do any damage. The electric gun fires large arcs of brilliant purple lighting that don't seem to lock on or jump to me as regular lightning would.

The pilot also seems unable to hit me easily. Maybe its targeting is messed up. In order to see if I can further this issue, I focus my fire on the head. That's where most sensors are stored in many AMS models. The shots do little to penetrate but their force knocks its head around. From over a hill, I begin receiving covering fire from my squad. Plasma bolts and bright blue lances of light strike the foe but do nothing to damage it. I'm wondering what the armor is made of. It's clearly something special. I then remember I do have an option to win.

I keep up my dodging as I slowly target my enemy with a small IR laser attached to my head. When I get the systems ready a single ATGM arcs out from my back. The missile flies and doesn't strike in the chest like expected but instead rips the AMS arm from the main body. The weapon going with it. The pilot realized he is now fucked up shit creek begins to run away. Suddenly a squadmate leaps from behind a hill and kicks the retreating AMS over. He mounts it in a victory pose and destroys functionality in the remaining arm. I am about to congratulate him when I see he is standing on top of a naked hill open. I hear for a split second a loud whoosh as his AMSs chest explodes outwards. A huge solid shot cannon just tore him to bits. His AMS wobbles then fall. I yell out in concern and protest when there is a horrible whistling. Over the radio, I hear,

"Artillery incoming!!!!!"

I feel a massive blast shake the ground near me and I tell everyone to get down. The bombardment is brutal. I have to turn off my hearing as the earth shakes around me. I am tossed around by the blasts as we are shredded. Eventually, the bombardment ceases. I call out for status and receive none from anyone else. I am hurting all over and feel dizzy. I definitely got concussed. I stagger to my feet and come across Eloise AMS. It's mostly intact but she probably is knocked out. I see the others. All shredded and clearly the occupants are dead. All the marshalls are also dead. I see parts of their bodies scattered about. I fall to my knees in both pain and sadness. I have multiple breaches in my armor and most sensors are destroyed. I can see the tactical map. Multiple enemies are moving in on me. Five are AMS and one is a large armored vehicle. I realize my communications are broken too. I swear as my vision goes foggy and the world spins. My vision slowly begins to fade as I see black...

Suddenly I feel heat. Burning with white-hot light. It drives away the darkness encroaching on my consciousness. Without thinking I grit my teeth as my vision seems to gain a red tint. I feel angry. So fucking mad. About what? Eevrything. Everything that has happened and everything about to happen. Why am I the one who must suffer? Why am I used by all those around me?

[Who cares?]

Wendigo breaks my selfloathing.

[Who gives a shit about that? Yeah, it sucks, but what will you do? Are you gonna sit here and cry? Gonna let them take you or just outright kill you? If you survive what's gonna happen? You're gonna go back and let people walk all over you again. Why? Because you are a bitch. I know because I am too because I am you. The only difference is that I don't have to deal with complex human chemistry. All I can give is advice not tainted by emotion. Now. Listen up buttercup.]

I keep my heart heavy and eyes wet but reply,

(What do you want?)

[What do I want? I want what you want... well old you at least. I want to survive at any cost and live happily. I live by our old vow you have forgotten thanks to the bitch Kassandra. We vowed, that we would see our happiness through. We would thrive and survive, and if anyone or anything got in our way we would not stop until it is destroyed. Now... what you need to do is get up... and since this metal frame we share is named after a monster. Let us live up to that name.]

I feel some information flow into my mind. I now remember that vow I made to myself all those years ago. The sadness I feel slowly disappears as a violent rage builds up inside me. My breathing begins getting harder and faster. I feel my heart rate increase. I feel my guts contort as My entire body flexes with unyielding rage. I won't die. I will live... I will live free and happy, in the way I see fit.

I stand up cannon in hand I reload and ignore the pain that covers my entire body as the first enemy AMS approaches me. It reaches to touch me and I grab it by its metal skull. I turn on my speakers and announce to the approaching enemies,

"Run now. Last chance. If you do not turn around now I will slaughter every... single...one... of you"

There is no response as I bring the barrel of my gun forcefully through the cockpit of the AMS in my grip. The gun-metal holds as the barrel tears through metal and man alike. It is time to become a monster, not to kill for the sake of killing but to keep an undying promise to myself and to protect those that I still can.

I feel my metal frame groan under the force of my own synthetic muscles as I force the AMS to go beyond its rated limits. I then begin my dance of death. I quickly run landing shots into infantry and enemy AMS alike. Two close AMS are quickly killed as the remaining two retreat for a better shot. I sweep one of my arms through a squad of infantry grinding them up under the metal. I am barely missed by the tank which just crested the hill. I hit it with an ATGM and it explodes as its ammo cooks off. I then bound towards the retreating foes and catch one from behind. I hop on its back and tear its pilot out with my hand. He is more than likely dead from my grip but I throw him dozens of meters away. I look up to see four more AMS are incoming. I try to shoot but my cannon has jammed.

I let out a grunt of protest as I then begin sprinting towards my enemies. I draw my sidearm and decimate one with multiple 40mm grenades. Its frame shattering under the blast. I am hit multiple times but ignore the pain as I land a huge punch on one. Its armor shatters as the sheer force of my blow rattles it it bits and the pilot is turned to a pulp by spalling armor. I spin around with my fist closed and backhand one behind me. The hit is devastating and reduces the struck arm to scrap. I fully turn my attention and tear both its arms of before crushing the cockpit with my foot as it falls over.

The remaining two try to shoot me as I just ignore the superficial damage. It burns but the attacks barely make a dent in my armor. I pick up the severed arm of one of the faller foes and use it as a club on the last two before it breaks and I am reduced to my hands again. I extend the blades on my wrists and use them to tear them to pieces bit by bit like some kind of rabid animal. After finishing I see the enemies retreating to a large hill with fortifications built on it. I assume this to be their main base. It also appears to be where the artillery came from. I begin a mad dash towards it. I make sure to crush any foe I come across underfoot if I don't obliterate them with my 40mm handgun.

I see bright flashes like lightning on the horizon followed by a rhythmic thudding sound. They are attempting to shield their retreat with an artillery barrage. I keep pushing even when Wendigo begins warning me about certain portions of the AMS are starting to overheat due to a lubricant leak. I just have to make it within the distance they arent willing to bombard. The ground begins to erupt around me as the heavy shells tear the earth. I am shoved by the force and feel fragmentation sink deeply into my metal hull. I just keep pushing. Then the shells stop suddenly and I think I am out of the danger zone. I can finish this fight. Then I feel something hard under my foot that has a small portion give away.

[Oh shit a landmine]

(OH SHIT A LANDMINE!)

There is a moment where time seems to freeze. My anger is gone for the moment. I feel stupid and embarassed. I overextended and didn't think. They are defending a position, of course, they will have traps like mines and whatnot. I swear once under my breath before the blast tosses me up a few feet in the air ripping my leg completely off. I feel the agony as first the lower part is disintegrated then quickly the joints are ripped from their sockets. Due to my forward momentum, I faceplant onto the ground with many other pieces of structural steel bending and snapping in areas. I slide to a stop meters away and as I slide I detonate smaller infantry mines causing minor damage but feeling like white-hot needles sticking into my skin.

The landing was brutal and I try to gain my bearings. I cannot whatsoever. My vision is spinning and all sensors are destroyed. My visual sensors have massive cracks across them making seeing a very difficult task. In my dazed state, I try to stand but am unable due to broken gyros and a missing leg. I then see four AMS approach me, dancing through the minefield. They are of the same model the tough motherfucker was earlier. They stand around me and I try to reach out and grab them but they keep their distance. My weapons are missing so I have no ranged capabilities. I try to fire my two remaining missiles but they are broken to all hell and unable to be fired. I have no weapon inside my cockpit to defend myself if I get out so I am fucked up shit creek without a paddle.

I don't get to decide as I feel a huge metal foot land on my back and a cutter begin working through my back. I feel as the plasma torch cut through my back tearing through structure and armor alike. I scream out in pain as I am effectively flayed alive. They then begin ripping out bit turning this flaying to a blood eagle in terms of pain.

[This ain't good. At this rate, you will die of shock. I'm knocking you out]

(How? )

[Dont worry ;)]

(How did you turn that to speech? And thanks I guess)

I don't get an answer and suddenly like a switch is flipped I am unconscious and the pain disappears. I guess since he kinda is in control of my nerves and other neural networks making me feel no pain and putting me to sleep is easy.

I wake up in a dingy room on a concrete floor. There are sporadic tremors paired with explosions. I sit myself up and find my hands tightly bound with heavy metal cuffs. They even have a high collar on them limiting my wrists even further. I stand up and stretch a little I feel sore despite doing little physical stuff myself. It's just my body and brain are doing weird things while talking to one another. I have trouble with balance and my vision spins but I power through it to get myself comfortable again. I am super concussed. After a few moments, a slot opens on the door for a second before it closes. Then with the sound of a heavy lock, the door opens letting in a tiny bit more light.

Standing in the door is a short stocky black man who is smiling a toothy grin towards me. He steps in and says in a loud voice,

"Well, I'll be damned if it isn't lieutenant Mike Richardson!? I guess you are tougher than a nuclear bomb. I've been wanting to speak with you ever since you gave us the what for at that academy. At first, I thought it was some kid using an old model but when I saw you fight I knew it was my old CO. Now I've got ya and we have nineteen years to catch up on."

I look at him a little confused, I don't remember him at all, maybe more of that amnesia shit I am dealing with. He gets closer and I get a better look at him. He is built, absolutely yoked. I can also tell he is middle-aged but age has not bothered him too much. He seems honestly happy to see me. I nod at his invitation wanting to know more, plus I'm kinda captive. I have no other choice.

His smile widens and he motions for me to follow. Two insurgents follow me from behind outside my arms reach. Both have submachine guns and body armor. I stand no real chance. The man leads me through the dim tunnels as the explosions and shaking continue. He then begins speaking excitedly,

"I'm surprised you're alive but I had a feeling you managed to find a hole to put yourself into stasis so I was just wondering when you'd show up again. I can't believe you'd join up at the school but I'm taking a guess that you didn't get much of a choice. I wish I could have been there when you killed the emperor, but if you remember I was hurt at the time and in surgery for a shrapnel wound. I hate how they made you the bad guy. You're not bad, in fact, you should be raised as the hero of the earth! Possibly of all of humanity! We here know the truth so you're our hero.

Well, you will be our hero. The idea of you is, but since it seems our enemies got to ya first so we gotta keep you shackled. I mean you did kinda get us good. I personally know better than to let you get ahold of anyone even if you've clearly gotten worse. If you had fought as well as you did back in the day I don't think we would have stood a chance. I guess cryo-stasis and those gladiator matches make your combat ability less but that's no issue. I'm sure you'll be back to full very soon.

Well enough about you but as for me and this group, we formed very soon after the peace was made. At first, we were simply just a group dedicated to getting reparations for the war, but they put everything on you and suddenly no one was at fault and no money, supplies, or help was given to families affected by the war. I'm glad you didn't see it. Soldiers became homeless as their homes were destroyed during the war and they were left with no money to support themselves. After this, we became a group dedicated to helping veterans and affected civilians, a charity of sorts.

After that life became more and more difficult. The Solars came to our planet and took to changing everything about us. On earth, there is a feudal social system. It's stupid how that happened. We lost our rights in all forms, eventually, our group became more political, nothing violent just regular protests for rights but we got banned. Right out banned. Then... I guess we became more extreme. We met underground, radicalized ourselves further. Prosecuted for wanting to help those damaged. We stockpiled funds, weapons, and people. We built bases all over the world. We started small. Simple assassinations of people, then to small-scale attacks on our enemies. Then well you saw our biggest one and are currently in the middle of the war we started.

So far, when fighting peers in gear we are better. We are soldiers after all, not some uplifted police force and kids who wanna act like soldiers and gladiators. Due to this, I managed to become the main commander of this fortress. Impressive right? A corporal straight to captain of an entire fortress. Well... I guess that's all. Simply put we wanted people to be safe and happy, but the powers that be want us to not do such. We decided to fight, anyways, So what do you think?"

I shake my head and reply solemnly,

"I completely agree with your initial actions. Absolutely noble and good intentions. I also understand your anger and frustration. I doubt I would have done any different. I have one major issue so far. You attacked a stadium full of unarmed people, most there had nothing to do with your plight. Thar makes you just regular terrorists, not revolutionaries or freedom fighters. You killed civilians, how do you sleep with that on your soul?"

His face goes grim and he replies with his enthusiasm gone,

"I get your point. It was horrible. I don't know why our high command called for that attack. If it's any consolidation I had nothing to do with it. That cell of ours acted suddenly following orders given by an unknown commander. I really don't get it. We gained nothing from the attack. We only started a large-scale conflict. I don't think we are ready for a major fight. yet here we are.

What I want to ask is one thing. I want you to join us. I'm sure you can keep that from happening again. You'd become high command in a matter of weeks I'm sure of it. You can make us an actual army. Not some guerillas with fancy toys. We'd win! Would kick the spacemen from our home and return America to its greatest form. I want you to lead. You can do it. I remember how you were back in the day. I saw only a tiny bit of that earlier today when you went berserk on us. If we can even get back half of what you were and you teach us. We will be unstoppable. Think about it."

I keep following him in silence. I truly think the original ideas are great, helping others and fighting for freedom, but I cannot ignore the actions at the academy. Maybe I can change stuff around and fix them. Maybe I can truly make them a force to be reckoned with. I don't know though. I would be one commander in what is probably a huge network. What can I do to stop others across the world from being regular terrorists?

I keep my thoughts to myself. I am a little torn at the moment. I know this guy apparently. I should trust him as I did back when, plus if what he has described as true I can get behind what they are representing, and if that terrorist attack earlier was a fluke caused by an especially militant group then these guys aren't really that bad. Not lawful, but not evil, just men and women pushed too far in the wrong direction by people who don't care about them. I honestly hate to hear the way he described the veterans were treated makes my blood boil. Eventually, our walk in silence ends with us stopping in front of a pair of heavy metal doors.

The man leading us stops and turns looking me up and down once more before saying in a friendly tone,

"Well, it seems you are on the fence about joining up with us and I really can't blame ya. You saw what that one group did and well, kinda were fighting us a couple of hours ago. I get it. I probably would think along the same lines too if I were in your shoes. Through this door, I think we got something that will convince ya."

I don't like the smile he gives me as he unlatches the door. The hall is long and dark ahead and I get the distinct impression what I'm looking at is some kind of cell block. I wipe any concern from my face and steel my nerves before following my host inside.

There are few sounds in the dark hallway. I can hear vague quiet breathing all around. It seems as if whoever is in the cells is afraid to make too much noise. There is what I think is quiet sobbing coming from somewhere as well. Our footsteps echo through the hall as we walk. The smell is an overpowering stench of bleach. At least wherever we are is somewhat cleaned. My eyes eventually adjust and I see a most horrible sight. In each cell are many people are forced in together. Many are injured from the battle outside it seems. All but a few are wearing marshall uniforms so that explains a lot why there are so many. They are the easiest captives to obtain at the moment. So much for special forces training on the part of the marshals.

I ignore the POWs as it is just a product of war. I just hope they aren't being tortured or anything. This hall though seems to be a connector to another set of metal doors. I don't think this hall was his intended destination. I grow tense with anticipation as we approach the second set of doors. There is a dim light coming from the cracks of the door. We reach the door and the leader knocks and there are sounds of a latch being opened and we are let into a well-lit room. I step in and nearly throw up as I pass the threshold and my vision returns.

The smell isn't what almost got me. That was still the smell of bleach and other strong cleaners. Their usage is more justified in this room rather than the hall. The room is large with many partitioned-off areas working as private areas. The sounds in this room are best described as a cacophony of human cries, moans, and bestial grunts with some random music playing from somewhere. The view is what nearly did me in. Oh God, the view.

I can hardly describe what I am seeing, that or my brain won't process it. I thought places like these only existed in horror movies or from the most deprived parts of the internet. It is nothing but a den of excess, a room formed from the suffering of others for the unspeakable pleasures of the ones in charge. Cages not much different from dog kennels are stacked high and fill much of the room, their occupants being human women. Where the cages aren't there are unspeakable acts being enacted upon women taken from the cages. I can tell by uniform the ones taking advantage are insurgents.

I have no proper reaction right for the scene before me. I take a hesitant step backward and go wide-eyed unable to look away. My host turns around to face me with the same smile as before on his face. I now realise why I didn't like it. It's not a happy smile. It's a smile of pure sadism. One only a monster would wear...