I opened my eyes to see a vast expanse of nothing. My eyes flickered about, searching for something to attach itself onto.

When you're being bombarded by stimuli in the form of light and the things around you, your eyes never drift in smooth motions. They tend to focus on one thing, then the next, sharply hooking itself onto whatever you happen to be looking at.

You know you're dizzy when your eyes lose the ability to anchor themselves onto whatever is in front of you. When you're tipsy and you begin rolling your eyes about, it's harder to focus on a specific point in the image before you.

It was this brand of dizzy that took a hold of me as my eyes darted across the darkness, unable to find a place to rest. There was no depth, nor was it in my face. There was space, but I couldn't see it.

I found myself thinking in a daze, almost a trance-like state. My eyes began to pan across the void, and my mind soon followed soon after. I wasn't nauseated by the twisting, it was similar to moving your eyes while they were closed.

Up and down didn't matter here. Nor did left or right. It stands to reason that right and wrong wouldn't either. There were no benefits to claim, no costs to shoulder.

As soon as the thought had left my mind, my eyes flicked once more. I saw myself floating, eyes closed and unconscious -- in front of me.

My vision was detached from my body, and I began moving my limbs about. They responded to my thoughts all the same, and I found it to be quite disturbing. Seeing myself puppeteering... Myself? Disorienting would be the least comprehensive word to describe it.

As I moved my limbs, my thoughts collected and I was once more in control. I'd spread myself out, arms above my head with staggered feet, about two hips apart.

Every thread in my head began pulling, and I followed it to its source. One thought surfaced.

The past.

I screamed in pain as my mind stretched across the vast void. A sharp pain was dulled as it clashed against the walls of my beating heart, beating faster and faster as emotions made it crack outwards, and kept pushing as they stretched it further and further out, almost like an inflating balloon.

The wind began to rush past me as the pain subsided. I was falling, now.

I looked in the direction of my fall, still disoriented from the little dip in the abyss I'd taken moments prior. I could feel myself coming back as the wind howled against my ears, blanketing my ground-bound side in a cushion of force I found rather comfortable. The same old grin had found itself racing across my face as adrenaline surged through my blood.

Fuck yes, I thought to myself.

I noticed new bits and bobs attached to me, as well as some rather new equipment I wasn't wearing when I fell asleep. Maybe the sappy fucks strapped me onto a plane and dropped me off somewhere so they could skip through this world with arms linked, singing songs of peace and love -- who knows?

I realized that wasn't the case as I saw a plane moving away from my position, skating through the skies. I was wearing the fatherland's colours, albeit darker and better suited to the night. I was also wearing a parachute strapped onto my back, a very light flight suit, goggles, and a combat helmet with more straps than I was used to.

It was dark out, with nothing to see in the skies but the clouds of thick, black smoke and a very muted moon covered in the stuff. The dark was made even darker by the old, cloudy pair of goggles I was wearing.

I felt the wind stroke my face as I was -- oh yeah, I was falling.

A few kilometres from the ground, I took in my surroundings. The plane flew overhead sliding away from us, with other people freediving in a trail behind it. Glad to know I wasn't alone.

I looked to the ground and found myself a few kilometres from the ground, eyeing the factories below. Five small warehouses were sat atop a hill, flanked by darkened trees on all sides. An empty trail came from the woods and fed into the factories.

Kssht. "Not much in the way of security over here, we're in the clear!" A familiar, booming voice on the radio yelled. Ass-puffer.

"We get in, grab everyone, and make our way to the rendezvous, simple enough!" I said, yelling without my own consent. How appalling, not being able to even trust myself to keep my mouth shut.

At about one kilometre above ground, we opened our chutes and began our slow descent.

People began to pour out from the small warehouses, looking at the skies searching for something. Some pointed at those they could see as silhouettes in front of the moon, but most of my men were hidden by the thick black smoke covering the moonlight.

As I approached the warehouses, I could tell I'd make a perfect landing smack into the front yard of these folks' little homes. I almost grinned but was cut off by the same feeling of wall-stretching I'd had a few moments prior.

I felt a weird sense of deja-whatever-the-fuck it was called, Not familiarity as if I'd seen it before -- I know I haven't -- but more of knowing in my heart of hearts (I have one, yes) that I'd seen it before, and knew what would happen next.

I felt a surge of fear come across me. That's a first.

Firsts are scary, but when you're a cold little shit running around with guns, not even flinching at massacres you're directly responsible for, fear itself was scary.

What the fuck's got me so spooked?