"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, 'yer gonna burn like the rest of us darlin."

The day began the same way they did ninety-nine percent of the time. Wake up at Five thirty AM in the goddamn morning and do the daily flag formation with the boys, then move on to PT and work for the day. This was the semi-normal routine that Company B fell into during their deployment, and boy was it boring as shit.

For the last five months the number one prevailing fact of life was boredom. You resorted to the absolute dumbest things possible to simply entertain yourself, any object turning into something to stem the tide of sheer unadulterated agony that was sitting around and waiting.

Occasionally, there would be something that happened that was decidedly not boring, and in the best cases it would turn out to be a civilian at the gate to the FOB or something trivial that didn't end in total disaster. Worst cases...? We have a vacancy in a bunk. That usually didn't happen, and the less you think about it the better.

Sometimes if we were really unlucky it meant leaving the wire to do COINOPs, or simple routine patrols around our particular slice of hell. Talking with the locals who hated you, who you absolutely knew were responsible for a few of those empty bunks. It made my blood boil, but I kept the lid on it for the most part. Aggression was good, but not for talking to civilians.

In totality, I lost six marines that deployment, and we didn't get any replacements. Fine by me, I already had those names burned into my brain.. among other places. No, life here overall was hot, boring, and full of paper pushing. Let no glorious war movie change that detail, war isn't hell, the waiting is.

But like I was saying, mornings are almost always the same. The only thing different about today was the impending sense of doom present throughout the FOB, and it was primarily due to First Platoon's lust for destroying their vehicles and stealing everyone else's. People started calling them 'Reverse Robin Hood Platoon' for appropriating resources from the poor and giving to themselves. It bothered me.

The impending doom was from the fact we had to drive our happy asses over their and either fix a destroyed MRAP or give them one of ours. Fucken' supply Captain has been shafting this company on purpose, I swear it. That, or logi has just been particularly shit this time of year.

In any case, I made sure to have two squads start setting up our gallant trip through the desert to our sister platoon's current residence, roughly seventy kliks to the East or so. The last squad would stay back at home with James, my platoon sergeant, to make sure no unfriendly faces managed to raid my damn cookie cupboard.

I stepped out of the entrenched position just left of the center of the FOB where most of our communications equipment and the CCP resided, letting Fourth know that we'd be there later on in a few hours to hopefully fix their shit again. On my way out I picked up the rifle that you kept by your side at all times, of course, and started to make my way to where the MRAPs were lined up for the convoy.

Spotting pretty much the only person I actually wanted to talk to at the moment, I sauntered up to him and tapped him on the back of the kevlar helmet he was wearing. "Sloppy, Sergeant. If that was a 7.62 round you'd be dead already."

The man in question wanted to flip me off, I saw the particular look in his eyes, but instead he sighed and just turned to face me. "Right. Good afternoon to you too LT. I assume you'll come back home later with the kids in one piece?"

I let the rifle drop against my vest as I held my hands on my hips. "I dunno, might drop 'em off at daycare and take a spa day. Just one of those days, you feel me?"

He snickered and pushed me by the shoulder towards one of the vics in the middle of the lined up convoy. "Get goin Gray, 'yer wasting all 'yer energy on sarcasm again. I'll keep this place under watch while you're gone."

I nodded and gave him a wave as I moved to one of the armored vehicles' passenger side, opening the massive door and stepping up and into the behemoth truck. I gave the driver the thumbs up and got on the radio, signing on to convoy net and finally getting this rolling shitshow on the move.

The first truck pulled out of the somewhat small FOB and off we went, hopefully returning to a very much still not smoking base and not the alternative. Don't think about it.

Afghanistan was... Afghanistan. You go back home and you'll get asked 'oh my gosh what was it like?', 'did you kill anyone?', 'how was war?' Other nonsense too, I'm sure. Truth is it's mostly just shitty desert, with shitty people living in shitty mudhuts. You go there once and you've seen everything it has to offer, from AKs to mortars and IEDs. Sometimes you'd see greenery, or big ass mountains, destroyed vehicles and small communities. Mostly though it was just fucking sand and soil.

Soil that was particularly good for growing opium, apparently. I wasn't aware of that before actually shipping out here, the thriving drug market out here. The farmers practically have one way of life, growing this shit and selling it off to whoever will actually pay for it. Another officer in the battalion told me one of his Marines got hooked on the shit, but personally that raw opium is absolutely fucking rancid, no idea how someone can consciously consume that more than once.

I took this time to think about the plan for our next real patrol around the area, supposed to be in a day or two now. We'd had trouble with reported fighters in our province for a few weeks now, even taking a few shots to the walls of our compound. If being in a very specific position day in day out, when they know exactly where you are, but you don't know shit about where or who they are makes you uncomfortable, don't join the Marines.

Best case is we go around, remove some explosives or illegal stashes, and go home a few hours later tired and sweaty. Worst case...? Don't think about it. Definitely don't think about it.

Along that particular fun train of thought, I looked down to a scar running along the top of my wrist and further up my arm, currently covered by the sleeve of my uniform. Shit, already been a year. I forcefully dragged my face away from that and out the armored window, using a hand to dig through a pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes, sticking one in between my lips. My Marines weren't allowed to smoke in vics, and I practiced what I preached. I just liked feeling it there.

"Ey look, LTs' in one of 'The Moods'."

The voice of my driver, Louise Basilone, caught my ear as I turned my eyes to look over at him. Nevermind the two other snarkily smirking Marines riding just behind me.

"Oh what is it this time, cigarette and window?"

That was our doc, 'supposedly' on loan from the Navy to make sure we got our Motrin and fresh socks. Ethan McCollum, he was a damn good corpsmen too, think I got a cut once and he gave me a proper bandaid for it.

"Yeah looks like it Doc, personally I'm feelin great though fellas. You know, I wonder what fuckery those asshats in Fourth are doing right now."

And that was the final member of my current entourage, Daniel Ramirez. He was allegedly Native American and Spanish, but he couldn't prove either of those claims.

For now I just let them banter while I shifted back up in my seat, moving my arm into their view. "You know, as a great man once said, RAH."

Only a split second passes after I utter that word in the gayest possible way before the other three return back in a similar chorus, leaving me snickering in my seat as I make sure the radio was still in working order. "Good job boys, still got it."

"Yeah yeah LT, anyway I heard about this rockin' band back hom-" I started tuning Ramirez out after that, he usually can't be standed for long. It was a wonder he was a Corporal at all.

The rest of the fifty or so kilometer drive didn't take very long, even if the lead vic stopped or slowed to identify rough terrain or potential IEDs. It was a simple drive, no contacts and no heartache for the moment. Entering Fourth's FOB was easy, simple intrance and we got to work looking at the severely fucked MRAP we either came to try and fix or ditch entirely. And yeah, it was fucked. My mechanic took one look at the thing and just shook his head, walking back to our own truck.

Looked like a five hundred pound artillery shell exploded underneath it, which damnwell might have actually been the case, I asked the Sergeant who was there at the time what exactly happened, and he said something about miraculously not losing anyone. Amazing, one less letter no one had to write.

After staying for approximately too fucking long and being accosted by a random Marine I'd never met before, I decided it was exactly the time to leave and go home. Leaving one of my own MRAPs here because fuck me I guess, Fourth can't even be bothered to take care of their own shit, we start the pack up to leave. Before getting people packed up and reassigned minus one truck, the Sergeant in charge of the FOB made his way up to me.

He forewent the salute and just casually stepped up to my side, and I noted the Gunnery Sergeant pin on his collar. "Sir. Sorry for being the annoyance to the Company again. Capt'n Jesse seems to have a hatred for giving us our actual supplies... which is particularly annoying for the supposed 'logi platoon.'"

I sigh and look away from him and to the preparing-to-leave convoy. "Yeah. It's fine, Gunny. Ugh, listen, just owe us one again and I'll see what I can do about 'yer logi issues."

"Aye sir. If you talk to Major Powers soon tell him to stop issuing assignment orders for new LTs. Three have died this deployment already. I put in a complaint form but... well it doesn't really work."

I looked back into his seemingly exhausted eyes. "I'll see what I can do... and, for what it's worth, I miss Bradshaw too."

After that, I moved off to join the convoy as we departed, leaving quicker than we came really. We mingled for a bit but it was business business business. Signing papers to make sure we had a record of transfer for the MRAP, signing more paper to make sure it was understood that the skullfucked MRAP was completely skullfucked. It was, for lack of a better term, aids.

It's hard to explain the almost calm anxiety you get outside the wire in a country like this, even with inches of bulletproof armor between you and the open air. It was relaxing, it was nerve wracking, and exciting for all of ten minutes before, yes, the inevitable boredom. It was at that precise moment I got an evil glint in my eye, turning around to face Ramirez.

"Hey Ramirez, how's the family?"

Two out of the four people in the vehicle groaned quite loudly before Ramirez started piping up. "OH! So glad of you to ask LT! Well-"

Somewhere else, in a deep dark crypt in another time entirely, two robed figured cloaked in the dank air moved towards a rocky outcropping in the surface of the tunnel's wall they were in. Pressing harshly on a concealed trigger, the wall hissed and sparked, moving out and away revealing the hidden passageway the figures sought.

The pair trotted into the now gaping passageway hidden from the main cave they were already in, long since dormant or dead torches on the walls bursting to life in a flash of menacing hellfire, revealing the true extent of the tunnel. It was long, and foreboding. As the pair moved, they noticed gouges and scorches across the walls, floor, and even roof. The somewhat jagged cave's walls being plastered with signs of an ancient fight with no clear victors.

After an untold amount of walking, seemingly passing the same stretch of tunnel twenty times over, something changed. The aura of the place shifted ever so slightly, an almost indescribable feeling consisting something of hostility to aggravation at their presence.

Shortly after that, the pair came across the foretold path they sought. The tunnel split off into three separate paths with large perfectly preserved and ornate redwood doors depicting three different elements, Earth, Fire, and Water.

The ways that marked 'Earth' and 'Water' were marred with the signs of war, scorches, and long rotted corpses. The skeletal remains of two distinct sides fighting and dying to protect or claim the treasures the very same pair wanted now. Curiously enough, the tunnel leading to the 'Fire' door was absent of any marring details to ruin it's almost ethereal beauty, being absent of war and death like the other two.

They looked towards each other and nodded before turning back to their target. Pushing forward they recite the ritual words as they stalk up to the door, pushing the draped robes aside and placing both of their hooves simultaneously onto the red and golden door. "Magna ignis Dei tui sumus coram indignus. Tu suscipe suscepit quasi praeteritum."

Nothing happened. The two held their hooves firmly against the door on the prescribed places, said the words, and nothing happened.

That was, until an immeasurable fear rose in their brains, the overwhelming and horrifying realization they were playing with fire. It was torture, unable to move from shock and wracked with the worst terror you could experience as a living being, fight or flight not even being a consideration and the two got a full dose of horror in it's purest form. Then, that went away too.

The door shook, centuries old dust rising from it as it pushed inwards, the seemingly perfect and singular door splitting into two down the middle and opening for the pair. They panted and moved forwards into the pitch black darkness, of the new room, stepping inwards and trying to adjust to the way the room destroyed any light like a black hole, the door suddenly slammed close behind them with a force they hadn't seen before.

They were left in complete agonizing pitch blackness, nothing visible in the room whatsoever. One of the two turned to his side, seeing what looked like an exact duplicate of himself mirroring every movement he took. Wag a hoof, he copied, tilted his head, he copied. At once, the duplicate started to melt slowly, flesh and cloak deteriorating into a bubbling mass of hellfire as he stood there in terror, turning around to try and find his partner.

It seemed to be the wrong decision, and the same process began to him. He felt his flesh boil and fall away in liquid mass, becoming nothing more than a stain on the cosmic universe around him. He screamed as loud as he could until he couldn't scream anymore, and then he was gone.

His partner, heard none of it. He too saw his reflection melt and sputter like a dying flame, but calmly walked up and stomped on the remnant of his counterpart's heated and molten form. It was the correct decision, and the room erupted into a blinding rage of fire and light all around him. The circular room's edges became engulfed in flame stretching infinitely upwards and downwards at the same time, a marble pedestal lit by the fire in the center of the room holding what looked to be an orb made of pure fury and hatred held captive by raging flames shifting colors from red to orange and yellow.

He moved to the orb, the treasure he lusted after for years now, the one thing that could make all his wanton desires for power and ability finally come true. He moved a hoof up to touch the literal object of his heart's desire, making only the barest of contacts with it before realizing, like a magnet, his hoof was unable to break free from it. His excitement started to melt to horror as he was stuck to the object that was now rapidly heating up.

He squirmed and pulled hard before reading the new aura in the room, deathly hatred and malice towards him and him alone. The orb started to become boiling hot, his hoof beginning to cook from the sheer heat of the object, leading him to light his horn with magic to attempt to do the unthinkable. Before he could do anything, a voice resounded in his head, and he was no more.

The being that used to be the figure entirely picked up the orb, instantly relieving the room of any light and fire it was projecting. It carried the object on it's back, and made it's way past the molten remnant of it's previous comrade, and out of the tunnel entirely. It didn't take nearly as long to backtrack this time around, as it once might have commented, and soon it was back into the original dark crypt. Then, to the surface.

It was starting to char black from holding the orb, that was until it hit sunlight of course. The orb seemingly smiled, and the pony carrying it and the object itself vaporized into ash in the blink of an eye, both destroyed in an instant.

Today was gonna be a shit day. Yeah, definitely a shit day.

Morning began like any other did, wake up, salute the flag, PT and then work. Today was gonna be particularly fun however, because we were gonna go sweep a particular town for a suspected insurgent leader being harbored in the area. If you know anything about MOUT, it sucks. There is a reason the battle of Fallujah was such a shitshow, due in part to the sheer extent of the urban operation.

I waited until around Eleven to start getting the guys ready to go. For the most part it would be a simple patrol, and it should go smoothly all things considered. Two squads, plus two vehicles for cover. Don't jinx it by saying 'what could go wrong' and we'd be set for the day. Just a simple drive to the ordered town and conduct inspections. Easy.

For my part I was awake and ready to move by Ten forty five, getting things into place and talking with various leadership in my platoon. Simple briefings were always pleasures. "Right. Okay any last minute questions boys?"

"Aye, you said it was only suspected they were harboring this fuck right?" The voice of first squad's Staff Sergeant, Son Kirin. Apparently his family was asian, cause it was a wild name.

"Correct, it isn't confirmed but if Battalion wants this guy that bad and he's here we're taking him."

"We taking anything illegal we find here too? Or just a simple snatch the guy and leave type deal?" That was James, Gunny extraordinaire.

"Mark for next time, even if it isn't there next time."

With a general agreement in the air, we moved to the vics to get moving, easy. I was gonna run with James and McCollum for this one, you know, proper platoon leadership style. Man I still wish Alex was around, that RTO was fucking fantastic. I just sigh and start moving out, patting James on the back before getting in the opposite vic from him.

"And off to Neverland we drive lads."

It wasn't a terribly far town, not as far as Fourth's outpost. Just thirty or so minutes of driving to get to the outskirts of the smallish community. They'd built up some actual architecture as opposed to the normal shitty mudhuts. Nothing really special, just some blockwide store buildings with actual glass windows.

Out of view of the town I had my people dismount our vics and start walking up the road towards the town using the armored MRAPs as cover. It was a pretty simple day all things considered, just walk up into town and start knocking on doors.

Dirt roads into town started to get more well traveled as we entered what could be considered city limits, eventually hitting city proper to go about our business. By this time in the day most inhabitants were out and about doing whatever it is they did, and my two squads split off inside one of the residential districts to start lightly checking around. Multiple civilians came up to Marines asking for general help with whatever bullshit they needed, usually things like aid and munitions removal. Life for them was just so fundamentally different than American life.

Somewhere in the clusterfuck that was this day me and James started talking to a group of kids who'd run up to us. We'd talked with the same group multiple times before, it was always the kids who liked to come up and chat as best they could. We had a Lance somewhere in one of the squads who was trying to learn Pashto to be able to hold a conversation with 'em, too.

I could make out a few words, enough to at least not seem like a deaf monkey when talking to village leaders and whatnot. James was my go-to language guy though, he managed to get through an Army language course which left him semi fluent in Arabic. Kinda spooked me sometimes.

I just kept a couple meters away from them, in my opinion they were just annoying like all kids were. It didn't matter if they were five or thirty years old, I'd still be weary around here. 'Keep your head on a swivel', 'pick a direction and stare', you were just always taught to keep yer head moving around and scanning, especially in a place like this. In the ideal circumstance you wouldn't want to be brazenly up and down roads in urban terrain, you'd wanna use alleys and backyards, which unfortunately I wasn't particularly at liberty to do at the moment.

So there I was, standing in my kit on a main road, watching for whatever the hell was inevitably going to maybe not happen. I used my left hand to reach into my pocket and retrieve my cigarettes, pulling one from the box with my teeth and enjoying the feeling of it being there for just a bit. I should stop carrying these if I'm trying to quit them.

I looked around to what little rooftops I could actually see before sighing and lighting the damn cig in my mouth, taking a drag off it. That, of course, is the exact moment James walked up next to me.

"Thought you were trying to get off those, Sir."'

I just sighed. "Yeah me too Gunny. What'd you chat with the rugbiters about?"

"Mostly about the things they do around here, taught 'em a few more swear words this time around heh heh."

"You gotta stop doin' that, I thought Colonel Holler wrote you personally to stop?"

"Nah one of the Corporals made that up. Wait, you thought the Colonel wrote me specifically and you didn't even ask me about it?"

"...No comment."

We stood there for a bit until I dropped the cig and stepped on it, turning to say something but getting interrupted by a loud beep from my radio. "Jackal-1-A, Jackal-1-1, found something you'd be interested in seeing. Bring your vic o're here too. Over."

"Copy 1-1, I'm Oscar Mike. 3 mikes, Out."

I looked to James and shrugged. "Looks like that's our stop, bud."

"So it seems."

We both walked towards 1-1's position next to the MRAP driving slowly along with us, 1-2 was knocking on doors and clearing buildings on the same street so it wasn't too much of a concern security wise. We eventually pulled towards the house a majority of the squad was holed up around and I met up with the squad lead who'd called for me, Kirin.

"Avast Kirin, what've you got fer me this time?"

"Rah. Guys found a big fucken' stash of munitions and weapons. I think it's too big a find to just leave, Sir." He pointed towards one of the two buildings that almost seemed to look like they were professionally designed. They weren't though.

"That bad huh Sergeant? Let's take a looksee."

I followed him into the muthut and found myself entering into a room covered in copious amounts of carpets, oh and explosives. Yeah, it was at least thirty big ass wooden crates full of ammo, guns, and bombs. Looked Russian spec, probably old shit from the Soviet Afghan war. "Aye, that'll do it. Alright, have some of your guys wire up demo blocks on this fucker, I'll tell 1-2 to cordon off the block until it's blown."

He nodded and started moving to get his guys in shape while I hopped on my radio, telling 1-2 to start making sure people left the area for a bit. James was right next to me as we both stepped out of the explosives building, looking out into the walled off courtyard we were in with a few other Marines milling about.

"Full sending it in the middle of a town, that one's new. Powers is gonna kick 'yer ass, Gray."

"Probably. Uncaring at the moment though, got bigger problems at hand. Ugh, fuck, I don't complain about the heat here but goddamn did it just get ten degrees hotter?"

"No, I think that might just be you. Helmet's probably on a bit too tight there." James looked down to his feet and groaned at the more than normal dirt that had accumulated on his personage.

I looked up towards the slightly distant rooftops of the actually decent looking market buildings, with glass and everything. Nothing currently, but did I trust that shit? Fuck no.

Me and James made our way around in the compound for a bit, waiting for 1-1 to finish priming the demo blocks, anyway. It didn't take very long to get shit squared away, thirty minutes or so, and that was too long to be sitting in one compound on it's own. Over that period, a small collection of civilians watching had grown. From two to six then to around the fifteen that were scattered about watching our activities.

I moved once more back into the stockpile room now littered with four C4 blocks of explosive, nice and primed to go off whenever we evacuate the area. The Corporal setting the finishing touches gave me a thumbs up and I returned the gesture, ducking my head out of the doorway to pass a glance over the crowd of civilians outside the walls and a few meters back.

During that sweep, James followed me into the building and looked around somewhat uncomfortably at the happenings. "Think me and you should get out of here, Gray. Shit's starting to get dicey and I wanna be far away as possible when that shit rocks off."

I look towards him for a second with a purposefully unreadable expression then back out to some of the loners on balconys and off to the side of the main crowd. "Oh stop being worri-"

A stop my sentence mid word to squint my eyes, then bringing up my rifle to look down the scope at a particular individual. He seemed to be holding something before, but now I was able to make out vaguely that he was holding a phone. "James, get a team to go make that guy put that fucking shit down-"

My ear twitched as for a harrowing second I heard the distinct sound of an old Nokia ringtone somewhere in the pile of assembled munitions. I barely had time to turn my head before James damn near tackled me down and held himself on top of me. "Not yet goddamnit!"

The loudest sound I'd ever heard in my entire fucking life deafened me for minutes on end as the entire world blackened. My vision was seared with white hot pain as I felt rips and punctures all along my body, the adrenaline not hitting me yet as a massive weight slumped on my chest. Everything ached, I thought I felt my back pop in two. It was like my skin was melting, seemingly endless agony on every part of me.

It was everything I could do to scream and keep from blacking out entirely, disorientedly caught under what felt like a ton of oppressive and unmoving mass. When my eyes were finally able to rip open, all I could make out was blue sky above me and the ever present searing pain, straining to move my head forwards to see what had kept me down. My neck screamed in protest as I shifted to see the unmoving mass was James ontop of me, littered with more red stains than marpat camo at this point.

"Fuck! Corpsman! Fuck!"

My voice was hoarse and rough, and I couldn't move anything, it felt paralyzing. My limbs just weren't responding, barely able to be moved at all as I shook from what I assumed was shock and bloodloss. I couldn't make out my own features from James', my own no doubt battered body just mixing with his own as I fought for consciousness. The edges of my vision blacking and starting to fade.

I looked to the left to the blown out walls and courtyard, spotting the ripped shreds of more Marines bleeding out or dying without another soul nearby to help. Sound started to fade in as my vision rescended, screaming and civilians in a panic and roaring gunfire. I heard the flames of actual fire scream out behind my vision from where the cache probably was, blocked by James. I felt my body get hit by a strong force that instantly made me take in a deep breath and my vision return, probably the adrenaline hitting my blood system.

My hand started to twitch in my control as I move my beyond pained limbs to James, already knowing but needing to make sure..

He was gone, no doubt about it. I did my best to push him off me in slow and pathetic movements, having to grab him by the collar and roll as best I can. In the process I saw the burning flames crawling towards me, then to my own legs which were thoroughly fucked... definitely wasn't supposed to bend that way.. fuck!

My hand locked on James' collar, the extent of my bloodloss and bodyies' best attempt to stay alive depleting by the minute as flames started licking on my boots. I guess it liked what it tasted, since it started crawling up my boot and pants, my nerves still lucid enough to feel the heat through the clothes before it got to my flesh proper.

Soon enough though.. it was agony. Burning down in a town of people I never cared about for a cause I'd lost faith in. I felt every milisecond that passed as I charred and melted away, unable to crawl to safety as I swore I could faintly hear a helicopter in the distance. More gunfire, more screaming.

"CORPSMAN! PRIORITY!"

So far away now. Barely able to hear it. The ground vibrated with cooking off munitions near the cache, before my eyes closed one last time and I fell away to the infinite nothingness that was the void. I felt nothing, I saw nothing, I couldn't hear anything.. until a voice clear as day bounded through my head like an electric guitar.

“Breathe.”

Author's Note

Welcome back! My hope is that this story will be better off after the rewrite, and I can make it actually palatable now. Heh.

I unfortunately didn't have the foresight to start hating my own writing until severely after the original 1 year anniversary of this story, so this'll be coming out roughly 2-3~ months after the first post anniversary. 05/14/2020

FOB = Forward Operating Base
COINOPs = COunter INsurgent OPerations
MRAP = Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle
CCP = Casualty Collection Point
IED = Improvised Explosive Device
MOUT = Military Operation in Urban Terrain
RTO = Radio Transmissions Officer