Three weeks of pain and misery. That's what Deans life had come to. The instructors were unrelenting, the exercises and drills were unceasing. Never before had he felt this way. His augmented body was pushed to the limits. His bones seemed to be made of titanium, his lungs almost never winded, and his senses were heightened to their max. Though this wasn't enough. The instructors pushed him till he collapsed. It was fine the first few days, but those days turned into a week, then two, then four, then eight. His body became bigger, stronger, and fit. He was taught fighting techniques: Krav Maga, Taekwondo, and JuJitsu. He Learned how to maintain, respect, and fire a rifle. And lastly, he was taught to kill the enemy.

They showed him the things they did, and the savagery with which they carried it out. The Orith were brutal, and it scared Dean immensely. He had watched as soldiers laid down covering fire while a women and child made a run towards them. A large arachnid like creature standing at about twelve feet tall had jumped down from the top of a building and snatched the child away. The soldiers, who Dean had recognized as French, shot at the behemoth, but it was to heavily armoured. He was forced to watch as the child, kicking and screaming, was devoured by the monster. A shielded compartment of the armour had opened up and the terrified boy was stuffed inside. The quality the video was taken in was to good, and everything could be heard. The gunfire was deafening, only barely overpowered by the screams.

Dean had lost everything in his stomach.

Every since that session, Dean couldn't help but see his sons face as he was lifted away from him and devoured before his eyes. Nightmares always started with him waking up in a cold sweat, but over time, it turned into rage. He used that rage to train harder, to get better. He used it to keep motivated. And he was going to use it when the time came to face the enemy.

Now, on the last day of the ninth week, Dean was standing in line with his fellow recruits, their backs rigid and their faces grim. Gray clouds dominated the skies and thunder rumbled in the distance. There was a storm coming.

"Atten-Hut!" The drawn out call to attention echoed across the courtyard. All thirty recruits were outside for the first time in nine weeks. In that time, Dean had been promoted twice. Apparently, he had some leadership skills and the Brass had taken a liking to it. Now, he was a Corporal, same as that bully: Deager.

"Recruits." The Captain's voice pierced the air, causing all eyes to swivel towards him. Captain Mason was unfazed and began walking down the line. "Today is your last training exercise. You've learned how to shoot, you've learned how to kill, and you have learned how to be the ultimate soldiers." The Captain stopped and his eyes found Deans, who remained still. Captain mason Nodded slightly before continuing on. "I expect you to apply your knowledge of tactics, abilities, and training to good use. I'm going to be honest with you. The Orith are winning across the ocean. If our governments can't come up with a peaceful solution, then we will be going to war, and you will be on the front lines. Rangers Lead The Way after all. We need you at your best, we need soldiers who will be an inspiration and victorious. The trial is going to be a game of capture the flag. Your CO has the teams listed out already. Goodluck, make us proud."

The Captain walked off and a man who Dean recognized as Staff Sergeant Lee took his place. Winch cleared his throat as he moved up and down the line.

"The rules are simple. You have the entire forest and the abandoned town in the centre to work with. Two flags will be in designated spots for each team; the goal is to capture these flags. If an enemy flag is brought back to your base, you must keep it there for ten minutes. You will be wearing standard uniform and armour. You're weapons will be modified variants of that, when shot with a round, it will cause you to cease up and lose consciousness. There are various weapons to choose from, but it is up to you as a team to come up with a strategy. If there are any questions, speak up now." Lee watched like a hawk for any signs of movement, but he would find none. Seeing this, he huffed and spun on his heel. "Your teams are as follows: Corporal Deager, red team, Private First Class Amira, red team..... " Dean tuned out the Staff Sergeant when a flash of lightning attracted his attention. His eyes caught a few birds scattering from the thunder that followed. After several minutes Dean heard his name.

"Corporal Forester, Blue Team, Specialist Jenkins.... Blue Team." Staff Sergeant Lee brought his datapad away from his face and stared at the recruits with a cold, unwavering gaze.

"Alright, you have your teams. Go to the barracks on the left and get yourselves equipped. You have thirty minutes to grab your shit and make it to your base." The Staff Sergeant whipped around and stalked away.

"You heard the man! Blue team follow me!" Sergeant Higgins, the current leader of their team, waved his hand in the air as Dean, Jenkins, and the rest jogged towards him. Once they reached him, they filed into pairs and double timed it towards their colour designated barracks. Their steps created a drum beat as they synced upon the paved ground.

"Ohhh, I can't wait to shit on that no good prick." Dean looked towards his friend in confusion. Jenkins was wearing a devious smile as he jogged alongside him. "He won't know what hit 'em!"

"Focus Jenkins. We need to complete the exercise. You can get your revenge later when we've won." Dean fell behind slightly to allow Jenkins into the barracks first before quickly following. Inside, an enormous amount of weaponry and armour sat in specific areas. Dean knew that military hardware had been advancing at a steady pace, but some of the stuff lining the walls looked downright futuristic. Reading a label as he passed by, Dean could make out the words 'grapple shot' written in bold underneath the strange device.

"Hey Dean, check this out!" Dean turned and saw Jenkins holding what could only be described as a handheld cannon. His jaw fell in astonishment as Jenkins hefted the device like he was carrying a baby. "Looks like something straight out of War Hammer!"

"Jesus Christ Jenkins, the term 'go big or go home' really applies to you, eh?" Dean chuckled as he examined the wall before him. Other members of his team shuffled about the complex, but his eyes were entirely focused on the weapon before him. The name read P23 Equalizer in big bold letters.

Dean had learned quite a bit about attachments and different aspects of guns. So much so that he was nearly a master, and his aim was that of a marksman. This gun before him was a sleek, jet black colour, yet it gave off no reflection. It's iron sights were an electric blood red and the grip was perfect for his hands.

'Wait.'

Dean Blinked and found the pistol was gently being caressed by his hands. Having no memory of grabbing the weapon, he blinked once more as if he were in a dream. Smirking, he grabbed the pistols holster from the rack and tied it around himself. Once done, he walked over to the ammunition store and looked back at the pistol. Dean thumbed the magazine release, causing it to slide out and into his waiting hand.

"That there pistol takes a special fifty caliber round. When used in real combat, the bullets are made of your typical compounds, but also something new called compound X. Something the eggheads over in Ohio cooked up." Dean turned his head and noticed the armourer standing off to the side, cleaning a GLOCK with a once white rag.

"Interesting. I think I would like to use it if that's okay with you?" Dean smiled and placed the pistol on the table.

"Sure thing. I'll get you the training ammo. Are there any attachments you were looking to put on it?" The armourer placed the weapon he was cleaning onto the table. Dean thought for a moment. He was likely going to play as an attacker, so he didn't want to be heard while sneaking around.

"How about a suppressor, extended magazine with a quick release." Dean thought about what his primary should be.

"Going for the stealthy approach eh? You'll probably want a suitable rifle to accompany it. On the rack over there is a SCAR Heavy. Bring it here for me." He pointed behind Dean before turning to grab the requested attachments for the pistol. Dean nodded and moved to collect the requested weapon.

As soon as he laid hands on the bulky gun, he immediately knew it would be perfect. His hands fit comfortably in the grip, the length was perfect for his long arms. Dean smirked as he twisted the weapon around to the floor, looking into the iron sights. Being black, it would easily blend in to the shadows.

'An AGOG would go good on this. Laser sight on the side rail, foregrip on the front, and of course, silencer to touch it off.'

Dean made his way back to the weapons bench and gently placed the SCAR upon the counter. He took the time to glance around at his teammates. All of them were checking over their weapons and armour. He picked out to soldiers, a man and a woman, and noticed they were carrying what looked like L96A1 bolt action rifles. Large scopes sat atop the guns; they would come in handy.

Dean looked around before finally spotting Jenkins. He had switched the cannon for a DMR of some sort and was busy adjusting the reticle on the sight.

"And here we go. I assume you want something similar for the SCAR?" Dean looked back at the beautiful specimen before him before smiling at the armourer.

"Yes please. I was looking for a foregrip, extended dual magazines, an AGOG scope, and a green laser sight please." Even though he was now a part of the army, and he had to go through rigorous training, he still believed politeness could get you a long way.

"Sure thing, I'll only be a moment."

And so Dean waited. He looked at the clock on the wall once and noticed they had twenty minutes to be ready and waiting. It would take five minutes to get to their base; plenty of time.

"So, what'd you choose?" Dean looked over at a decked out Jenkins. He was wearing some sort of prototype exo-suit along with a standard spec-ops kevlar helmet. He sported standard forest camouflage but it didn't do much to conceal the strange armour.

"Where the hell did you get something like that?" Dean admired the armour with a critical eye. Jenkins chuckled before doing a quick spin, showing off the rest of the armour. Metal pieces seemed to interlock at the back, protecting his spine and ribs. Each space in the spinal plates pulsed a deep red every so often, mesmerizing Dean.

"This here is a set of power armour. Its apparently only in the prototype faze but the things it can do is freaking amazing! I can reach speeds of a car on the highway, I can jump some four meters in the air, it has the latest bulletproof tech, and lastly, it connects to my neural interface, boosting reaction time down to the microsecond!"

"Wait, did you say neural interface? When did you get that?" Dean was puzzled. He would have known if they were putting things in their brains.

"What do you mean? We all got them when we had the augmentations." Jenkins huffed. "Looks like your gun is ready."

Dean looked behind him and sure enough, his SCAR was sitting on the desk.

"Thanks." He said. The armourer nodded in recognition before wandering off, likely to continue cleaning his gun. Dean looked back towards Jenkins but found him staring off behind him. Dean, confused, turned around as well. Looking up, he saw a small TV he had failed to notice on the wall above an entryway. At the moment, the Britain International News was on.

The room suddenly went quiet, but Dean didn't care. They were likely all focused on the same thing as he was.

"Just two hours ago, the Orith invaders landed in Austria. With the military mainly focused at the African border, they were able to take major points within the country just recently. President Stitz was apparently killed in the first attack. Satellite footage shows that the Orithian army is slowly making its way towards Germany's borders..."

"Jesus Christ, they're caught between a hammer and an anvil. We've gotta help 'em!"

"Why aren't we being sent in? They need us!"

"Where the fuck is our government on this! These fuckers can't be bargained with, they're monsters!"

Dean looked back to the TV, a scowl crossing his face. Rage and frustration worked their way to the forefront of his mind.

"Gentlemen!"

Every single recruit in the room snapped to attention as Captain Mason's voice rang out. His footfalls could be easily heard as he made his way to the front of the room and within eyesight of everyone. Dean waited with anticipation as the footfalls began to slow. Turning his head, Dean saw he was stationed just below the TV, hands clasped behind his back.

"There has been a development. We are canceling the training exercise early until further notice. I want you all gathered in the mess hall, full combat readiness. The Weapons you have, I want brought to a locker with your name. During the briefing, your weapons will be made combat ready. Link up with the other team and move out." Dean and everyone else obeyed his orders without question. After having them drilled into his head for weeks on end, Dean would not hesitate to do as he was commanded.

But even as he turned to leave, Dean couldn't help but look back at the Captain quickly. What he saw terrified him. It was something the Captain never showed, and even though it was barely visible, it still hit him like a freight train.

It was fear. The Captain was afraid.

*****

"Wait, wait, wait. So you guys didn't do the test? Why not?" Midnight Flow was leaning forward ever so slightly, but Dean could see the bags starting to develop under his eyes. Glancing at his tac-pad, Dean noticed it was nearly eleven o'clock. He had been talking for three hours straight!

He was about to answer, when he heard a chuckle come from a certain prisoner.

"Your military doctrine sounds weak and undisciplined. Who in their right mind would have their special forces play games as training?" Trignar sneered, causing Deans blood to boil slightly. He was about to make a retort, or a threat, but it would seem the storytelling was taking its toll on him as well, for Twilight beat him to it.

"Shut it Trignar. If I remember correctly, he single handedly killed twenty of your elite guards." Twilight snarled as she looked over her shoulder, fixing the elven prince with a glare. Dean saw Trignar wince and shuffle back a bit, causing him to smirk slightly.

"You took on twenty elite guards... and survived!?" Dean and Twilight both winced from the sheer volume that Midnight had acquired, the latters ears folding back in agitation.

"Yes, I did." Dean deadpanned as he turned to face Midnight, whose jaw was comically on the floor. "What of it?"

"Not one of our guards, not even the special forces at S.M.I.L.E could come close to them. They are the ultimate warriors of the elves... t-the best of the best! And you killed TWENTY of them!?"

'Whats gotten into him? He was all dark and mysterious when we met. Why is he acting like this?'

"Personally, I thought it was closer to thirty five, but otherwise yes, I did. Now, can I please continue with my story? I'm having enough trouble recounting my past as it is." The pegasus immediately sobered up and stood straight. It must've been Dean's eyes playing tricks, but he swore Midnight was slightly closer to Twilight. He smirked.

"Well, we were called to the mess hall for a briefing, but half way there. Something happened. the skies were alight with fire, and the earth shook to the point where we couldn't stand." Dean looked at the assorted faces once more. He was near the end of his story, he had to be strong. "I didn't find out until later that my country had joined the war not through words, but through an action so terrible that it made the wrath of God himself seem like a joke. If anything, we had unleashed the wrath of God right then and there."

"We called it the Hydron Collider, and by using it, we showed the true nature of Humankind...."