The City of Evil
M.I.A
IV. M.I.A
The building was deserted, laying almost in ruin. The roof, missing half of its shingles, was caved in and lay along the bare rooms. The place was colorless, anything that had color escaped years before. He stepped onto the threshold carefully, his gun heavy in his strong hands. He prayed, as he went in further, that he would have some form of courage.
It was nothing new, the war. It’d been going on for some time now. It didn’t phase him anymore; he’d been here for too long. To the soldiers, this land is still foreign soil to them. They don’t belong. They would never belong, no matter what happened.
Most of these men, they’ve been here before. Been here, sent back home, and then sent back again, he had noted. Your fighting another person’s war, not your own. You’re not fighting your own battle, but fighting millions that can’t do it themselves. You risk your life here for everything you have. It’s something that you don’t want to do, but have to do anyways, or you’ll be the one that’s gone next. It’s a battle of survival.
Some men, well, they’re here just to kill. Bastards, just here to get pleasure from it , you might say. He was out on command, one day, weeks ago when he first just got here. One woman and her son, they just so happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. She was shot, for nothing, leaving her son behind. Just like that. Without a mother, just standing there, most likely mentally scarred now as well. He hadn’t slept well at all after that, tossing and turning in his part of the bunk in the barracks. He dreamt constantly of that one day, that fatally changed one person’s life. It wasn’t his choice to be sent out here. It wasn’t his Goddamn choice!
You fight for honor, in the military. Nothing else. You fight for the right to keep the laws straight. Though, like any other normal human being, he knew just like everyone else, that the law also stated that ‘Thou shalt not kill’. There is never a war without casualties. Troops have been in this God-forsaken country for almost five years, and more than likely, it’s still not over yet. Though it seems that luck has been on their side the whole time, he knew that it wasn’t over completely for him until he made it home to his girl.
His girl. Whom he loved so much. It seemed so long ago that he last touched her, kissed her, ran his thumb over the freckles on her cheeks while stroking her face. Those memories, were the only ones that he had left.
“Hey, mate!” the solider was snapped out of his thoughts as the mail carrier called out to him. He grinned and mumbled a quick “Thanks” to the man as he was passed a couple letters from home. He swiftly pushed back his dark hair out of his face, tearing open the letter that was on top. The brunette could tell by the handwriting that it was from his girl. He glanced at the other letter, noticing that it was from his best mate Tom, and tossed the envelope aside, and unfolded the letter, reading it, then rereading it again.
Dear Harry,
We miss you so much. I hope you’re doing alright, and that they’re feeding you well. You always had a hearty appetite and now with you gone, it seems too unreal because of all the food that we have left after dinner’s over. I hope you’re okay, and not hurt. It would kill me even more if I knew that something had happened to you.
Lily took her first steps yesterday. I had Mum record it, just for you, because we know how much it means to you, not able to see her growing up. She looks so much like you, it’s unbelievable. She sends her love as well.
Please come home safe and in one piece.
All my love,
Kirsty
Harry grinned, wiping his face with the back of his hand, trying to keep the tears from spilling. His family, he loved and missed them so much. His little girl; he had missed so much of her life already. He was called up when she was only two months old.
Well, yes, he was safe, wasn’t he? He was here now. You never know when you are completely safe out here. Snipers, bombers, there’s so much to look out for.
Behind him, he heard muffled screaming, but since it was only Saturday and that’s the day that they all lazed about, that it was just some part of a game. But the screaming continued to get louder, and Harry quickly stood up, and turned around, stuffing the letters into the pocket of his army vest. He grabbed his rifle that was sitting beside him on the ground and took it up into his arms, ready. That was one thing that they taught in the Academy; readiness. Be on your toes the whole time.
“What’s going on?!” he shouted over all the noise, at another solider he knew from his ranking.
“Apparently, some bomb was set off by opposing troops. And they’re coming in fast!” He ran past Harry, grabbing some form of weapon as he did so. Harry gulped, gathering up the courage to run after him, into the mess.
When he got to where the bomb had been set off, he was amazed to see so many other troops already at the site. He also already had to step over bodies; bodies of comrades and of the other force. He took a deep breath, holding it up steady, his finger light on the trigger. As an enemy came running at him, he aimed carefully, and closed his eyes, pulling the trigger. The force knocked him back, as he wasn’t in a steady position to be shooting. Murder’s all a solider knows in a war. You have to use it to survive. You’re not told what to do. You’re here to make decisions of your own. You want to stay alive? Kill as much as you can. Keep your weapon with you at all times, even in the barracks, and you’ll be fine. You live your life here day by day, minute by minute, not knowing what’s going to happen next.
Harry pulled himself up off the ground, into a crouching position, pushing his hair back once again and aimed his gun. He shot again, the man in front of him falling into a lifeless heap. He got up quickly to check that he was dead, his hand smearing the others blood from the wound he had inflicted over the uniform. Harry pulled his hand back from the body, staring at it, shining red. A stranger’s blood on his hands. He bit his lip, stretching his fingers out, blood drops falling to the ground silently and quickly.
He looked around him, noting that the death toll was rising considerably on both sides. He was filled with wonderment as to how they hadn’t gotten to him yet. He inhaled sharply, aiming again with his gun and shot, knocking down one man about twenty yards in front of him, not even paying attention. Much like him. The only thing that he wanted to do was destroy plans. Destroy the plans of the enemy and he would be in. He would be saved, until at least next time.
He ran deeper into the fighting, taking out anyone or anything that was in his path. He made it to a couple of his comrades, exchanging a couple words with them before they rushed off to make sure things were secured in a certain area, before the other troops got them ahead of them. He was left, deserted in the empty street. His muscles relaxed slightly, but his body was still ever so tense.
He heard movement behind him, and spun around, right into the barrel of a Winchester 70 rifle. His shitty 44 Magnum caliber was no use to this type of gun, he thought bitterly. He cleared his throat, waiting for the blast of the rifle in front of him. Only it didn’t come. Harry pulled his chin up, looking the other man straight in the eye.
“You’re coming with us,” he said, his voice thick with accent. “Do anything risky and I will shoot.” Another man came up behind him, and moved around Harry, he too had his own weapon pointed to Harry’s back. He prodded Harry with the barrel, urging him to turn around. They led him back out to the main action scene, and where other enemy forces were waiting.
He could feel the tears that ran down his cheeks, like ice and silent, as he walked. They ran down his chin and down his neck, into the collar of his uniform. His hands, both of them holding his gun, were shaking uncontrollably next to his chest. He clenched his eyes closed, unable anymore to look at the men and the damage that was done in front of him. Only a few people remained from his unit, and like him they were all captured. And he sure as hell hoped that he wouldn’t get caught.
Slowly he released one of his hands from the heavy metal of his gun, and raised the gun up. The man behind him tensed, raising his gun in front of him. Harry’s eyes still shut, he thought of his family. He whimpered, drawing in a deep breath. He knew he couldn’t do this to them, but... what else is there to do? It’s either get caught, get tortured, and die a slow, painful death, or have it all over quick and painless. He took a deep gulp, taking in his last breath of air, and pulled.
And the Earth fell silent as darkness enveloped the skyline.
Walk the city lonely, memories that haunt are passing by, a murderer walks your street tonight. Forgive me for my crimes; don't forget that I was so young.
The building was deserted, laying almost in ruin. The roof, missing half of its shingles, was caved in and lay along the bare rooms. The place was colorless, anything that had color escaped years before. He stepped onto the threshold carefully, his gun heavy in his strong hands. He prayed, as he went in further, that he would have some form of courage.
It was nothing new, the war. It’d been going on for some time now. It didn’t phase him anymore; he’d been here for too long. To the soldiers, this land is still foreign soil to them. They don’t belong. They would never belong, no matter what happened.
Most of these men, they’ve been here before. Been here, sent back home, and then sent back again, he had noted. Your fighting another person’s war, not your own. You’re not fighting your own battle, but fighting millions that can’t do it themselves. You risk your life here for everything you have. It’s something that you don’t want to do, but have to do anyways, or you’ll be the one that’s gone next. It’s a battle of survival.
Some men, well, they’re here just to kill. Bastards, just here to get pleasure from it , you might say. He was out on command, one day, weeks ago when he first just got here. One woman and her son, they just so happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. She was shot, for nothing, leaving her son behind. Just like that. Without a mother, just standing there, most likely mentally scarred now as well. He hadn’t slept well at all after that, tossing and turning in his part of the bunk in the barracks. He dreamt constantly of that one day, that fatally changed one person’s life. It wasn’t his choice to be sent out here. It wasn’t his Goddamn choice!
You fight for honor, in the military. Nothing else. You fight for the right to keep the laws straight. Though, like any other normal human being, he knew just like everyone else, that the law also stated that ‘Thou shalt not kill’. There is never a war without casualties. Troops have been in this God-forsaken country for almost five years, and more than likely, it’s still not over yet. Though it seems that luck has been on their side the whole time, he knew that it wasn’t over completely for him until he made it home to his girl.
His girl. Whom he loved so much. It seemed so long ago that he last touched her, kissed her, ran his thumb over the freckles on her cheeks while stroking her face. Those memories, were the only ones that he had left.
“Hey, mate!” the solider was snapped out of his thoughts as the mail carrier called out to him. He grinned and mumbled a quick “Thanks” to the man as he was passed a couple letters from home. He swiftly pushed back his dark hair out of his face, tearing open the letter that was on top. The brunette could tell by the handwriting that it was from his girl. He glanced at the other letter, noticing that it was from his best mate Tom, and tossed the envelope aside, and unfolded the letter, reading it, then rereading it again.
Dear Harry,
We miss you so much. I hope you’re doing alright, and that they’re feeding you well. You always had a hearty appetite and now with you gone, it seems too unreal because of all the food that we have left after dinner’s over. I hope you’re okay, and not hurt. It would kill me even more if I knew that something had happened to you.
Lily took her first steps yesterday. I had Mum record it, just for you, because we know how much it means to you, not able to see her growing up. She looks so much like you, it’s unbelievable. She sends her love as well.
Please come home safe and in one piece.
All my love,
Kirsty
Harry grinned, wiping his face with the back of his hand, trying to keep the tears from spilling. His family, he loved and missed them so much. His little girl; he had missed so much of her life already. He was called up when she was only two months old.
Well, yes, he was safe, wasn’t he? He was here now. You never know when you are completely safe out here. Snipers, bombers, there’s so much to look out for.
Behind him, he heard muffled screaming, but since it was only Saturday and that’s the day that they all lazed about, that it was just some part of a game. But the screaming continued to get louder, and Harry quickly stood up, and turned around, stuffing the letters into the pocket of his army vest. He grabbed his rifle that was sitting beside him on the ground and took it up into his arms, ready. That was one thing that they taught in the Academy; readiness. Be on your toes the whole time.
“What’s going on?!” he shouted over all the noise, at another solider he knew from his ranking.
“Apparently, some bomb was set off by opposing troops. And they’re coming in fast!” He ran past Harry, grabbing some form of weapon as he did so. Harry gulped, gathering up the courage to run after him, into the mess.
When he got to where the bomb had been set off, he was amazed to see so many other troops already at the site. He also already had to step over bodies; bodies of comrades and of the other force. He took a deep breath, holding it up steady, his finger light on the trigger. As an enemy came running at him, he aimed carefully, and closed his eyes, pulling the trigger. The force knocked him back, as he wasn’t in a steady position to be shooting. Murder’s all a solider knows in a war. You have to use it to survive. You’re not told what to do. You’re here to make decisions of your own. You want to stay alive? Kill as much as you can. Keep your weapon with you at all times, even in the barracks, and you’ll be fine. You live your life here day by day, minute by minute, not knowing what’s going to happen next.
Harry pulled himself up off the ground, into a crouching position, pushing his hair back once again and aimed his gun. He shot again, the man in front of him falling into a lifeless heap. He got up quickly to check that he was dead, his hand smearing the others blood from the wound he had inflicted over the uniform. Harry pulled his hand back from the body, staring at it, shining red. A stranger’s blood on his hands. He bit his lip, stretching his fingers out, blood drops falling to the ground silently and quickly.
He looked around him, noting that the death toll was rising considerably on both sides. He was filled with wonderment as to how they hadn’t gotten to him yet. He inhaled sharply, aiming again with his gun and shot, knocking down one man about twenty yards in front of him, not even paying attention. Much like him. The only thing that he wanted to do was destroy plans. Destroy the plans of the enemy and he would be in. He would be saved, until at least next time.
He ran deeper into the fighting, taking out anyone or anything that was in his path. He made it to a couple of his comrades, exchanging a couple words with them before they rushed off to make sure things were secured in a certain area, before the other troops got them ahead of them. He was left, deserted in the empty street. His muscles relaxed slightly, but his body was still ever so tense.
He heard movement behind him, and spun around, right into the barrel of a Winchester 70 rifle. His shitty 44 Magnum caliber was no use to this type of gun, he thought bitterly. He cleared his throat, waiting for the blast of the rifle in front of him. Only it didn’t come. Harry pulled his chin up, looking the other man straight in the eye.
“You’re coming with us,” he said, his voice thick with accent. “Do anything risky and I will shoot.” Another man came up behind him, and moved around Harry, he too had his own weapon pointed to Harry’s back. He prodded Harry with the barrel, urging him to turn around. They led him back out to the main action scene, and where other enemy forces were waiting.
He could feel the tears that ran down his cheeks, like ice and silent, as he walked. They ran down his chin and down his neck, into the collar of his uniform. His hands, both of them holding his gun, were shaking uncontrollably next to his chest. He clenched his eyes closed, unable anymore to look at the men and the damage that was done in front of him. Only a few people remained from his unit, and like him they were all captured. And he sure as hell hoped that he wouldn’t get caught.
Slowly he released one of his hands from the heavy metal of his gun, and raised the gun up. The man behind him tensed, raising his gun in front of him. Harry’s eyes still shut, he thought of his family. He whimpered, drawing in a deep breath. He knew he couldn’t do this to them, but... what else is there to do? It’s either get caught, get tortured, and die a slow, painful death, or have it all over quick and painless. He took a deep gulp, taking in his last breath of air, and pulled.
And the Earth fell silent as darkness enveloped the skyline.
Walk the city lonely, memories that haunt are passing by, a murderer walks your street tonight. Forgive me for my crimes; don't forget that I was so young.