Pain and fear were two commodities that the man dealt with like a Wall Street shark would trade in stocks and bonds. He was used to dealing them out, and even taking it but never to the point that those two things turned on him. His two dealings smothered his senses like a can of tear gas. Ironically, tear gas was something he had grown used to. All around him, his comrades, their mottled green uniforms stained crimson from the dozens of open bullet wounds weeping with blood.

  He angrily thought to himself, “It wasn't supposed to turn out this way!”

  This was just supposed to be a routine scouting mission. Stake out a few hundred meters from the area of interest, in this case, being a half dozen seemingly abandoned Russian city blocks. Then just keep watch for a little while, inform the brass about what you see and move on.

  It’s natural to expect things to go completely wrong, it's just what he did. What he wasn’t expecting was to be literally surrounded on all sides by men who were wearing a uniform that designated them as allies. Slumped underneath a window, the haze of what he thought was terror, physical exhaustion, mental taxation and sheer unbridled anger were clouding the man's ability to think , which for someone like him, was an especially dangerous thing to do.

  "Gary", a nameless grunt shouted, "They just took out two more guys and are swarming their way up to our floor. Orders, sir?"

  Ugh, even though he had been called that for years now, that nickname still instinctually irked him. Thoughts of trying to lay down their arms to surrender and possibly buy themselves a small measure of leniency crossed the man's mind. Sliding a mirror from his breast pocket and carefully angling it to see outside, he could see a few bodies, ally and supposed ally alike from the first attempt at friendly communication. Now they were callously kicked out of the way to make a clear path for the incoming troops. Yeah, that immediately dashed away any thoughts of negotiations. And considering that the building they decided to bunker in was completely blocked off, escape was looking equally impossible.

  Swallowing his emotion, "Obstruct all stairways and paths up. Barricade any potential entrances and set up claymores within those parameters. Frisk any bodies for whatever you can use. When you're done, retreat to the nearest staircase, and do not move until you can no longer hold your position."

  The grunt saluted and ran back to complete his task. A pained laugh sounded a few feet away, "You should really work on your poker face. Despair is not your color."

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  Casting a sardonic look, "Can it, Sarnosky. I'm not in the mood for your sass right now."

  The now identified Sarnosky lifted his hand which was wet with bright blood and shrugged, "Eh, I figure if there's a time for insubordination, now would be it."

  Dragging his way over and ignoring the shooting pain in his thigh, the man propped himself next to his second in command. An explosion and a round of gunfire below signaled that their assailants were closing in. Lighting a cigarette, Sarnosky groaned, "Guess what they say about how you Gary's come with one hell of a price tag was an understatement."

  The man responded indirectly, "Hey, can I bum one of those?"

  His number two handed him the pack with a grin, "Sure about that? I hear these things kill."

  Taking a deep inhale from the cancer stick, "Do you regret having someone like me lead you guys?"

  The muffled gunfire below had died down, replaced by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and yelling. Shots rang out anew, and the pungent smell of powder was already reaching them.

  "I'd be lying if I said I didn't", Sarnosky admitted, "You little science experiments always cause one hell of a ruckus."

  Another drag and another heavy exhalation, "Yeah, can't refute that."

  "But, either way we were probably going to be sent on an assignment that would turn sideways or have a zero percent chance of surviving. Ain't that the usual MO?"

  The shots had once again fallen silent and the rhythmic sound of approaching boots drew ever nearer. Spitting the cigarette out of his mouth, the man forced himself to stand with his back against the wall. Checking the magazine on his rifle, he had less than half his bullets left. Low ammunition, practically all his men dead, a gaping wound on his thigh, and an unknown number of enemies closing in. Yeah, it was definitely a Thursday. Standing next to him, Sarnosky readied his own rifle, "When we meet on the other side, let's go out and have that drink I was always saying I'd get you."

  Flipping off the safety and training his sights on the door, "I'll hold you to that."

  The reinforced door flew off its hinges. The man and his partner gave one last cry as the flash of the muzzles blinded their vision. Fire punched through every inch of the man's body. All the strength left his body as he collapsed on the floor. Breathing became near impossible as fluid was starting to fill his lungs. Despite his vision growing progressively darker, he could clearly see another man standing above him. His mind barely registered, 'General... Avalon?"

  Humorless and sharp was the gaze that peered down.

  "Sorry, Puppet", the general said in a voice that could make a robot sound human, "We need this war to be publicly won cleanly. And you're putting that at risk."

  The general leveled his sidearm right between the bleeding man's eyes. Flash and then darkness.