#97 War Never Changes

by Ricardo Martinez

As a new initiate into the Brotherhood, he suits up to go into battle. He leaves his decrepit town. Leaves his sick mother, his young brother, and his friends, all to this poor, cruel excuse for a world. All of whom may never see him again, all of whom he is leaving, and for what? A place in an organization, much less accepting of him than anything he has ever known, completely alone? Whatever his intentions may be, there was always something about this opportunity that seemed promising. He marched onward towards the icy encampment known as The Spire. He had trained for decades, waiting for the moment where he could escape his simple farm life to get a better experience out of his existence. After stepping into the live battle-zone, he quickly ducked behind cover and thought out his plan. He would rush up the left flank, take out the fuel tank, and finish this operation quickly. As he stood up to carry out his plan, his dreams, his mission, his hopes of seeing his mother again, it was all over. A bullet struck him directly in the chest, and suddenly, he was finished. As he fell to the cold, hard ice, blood splattered on the ground. His blood. This icy tomb was the last thing he would ever see. Not his family, not his friends, but this frozen hell. Too often this fate comes upon people deserving something better. But you know what they say, “War never changes.”

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