Afghanistan, 2005

"Hey, Captain Hunt!"

That was my name, Derrick Hunt. I was the leader of an EOD unit in the middle of Afghanistan. My EOD unit consisted of four men. Our purpose here was the clear out any IEDs that were planted to blow up some unlucky soldier that happened to be near it, and we all took it very seriously.

It was a dangerous job, and I personally happened to have been blown up once before. That was how I lost my hand. Fortunately, I got a prosthetic for it, as I could afford it. The military accepted me back, as I had more than proved my self in the field before, and honestly, I thought that they couldn't find anybody crazy enough to take my job. Despite the prosthetic, I still have "ghost pains" in my left hand. They hurt like hell, and have been bothering me to this day.

I was shaken out of my thoughts of the past when I saw a hand being waved in front of my face. "Captain Hunt!"

"What it is, John?" I responded.

"Oh, I was going to ask you, are you excited to go home?"

Home... I didn't have one. When I was a kid, my house was my suitcase. I was an "army brat". My father was with the Marines, in 'Nam. He died over there, and left me with myself, my sister Julia Hunt, and my mother. My mother started to drink heavily after his death, and, for some reason I can't figure out to this day, she left when I was 18. After her departure, I was forced to supply both my sister's and I's needs. I worked the odd job here and there to make money, but I never could make enough. Then, finally, I resorted to my last option. I joined the military. I did it, so I could put food on the table, a house over our heads, and a warm bed for Julia to sleep in. Me, I slept in a tent, half way across the world. All the bills I did receive, I sent home, as I didn't honestly need them, as I got free food, shelter, and minor medical care, which is more than I could ask for.

The military gave me the means to supply Julia, and I, and I could never repay that debt. If they wanted me to suit up in a 200LB olive green suit, and poke around for landmines in the middle of a warzone, I'd do it. And the military knew it, which is how I got my rank. They knew my dedication.

Of course, I never told any of this to anybody. When someone asked about my life about the military, I'd give vague answers, or just change the subject, if possible. I did the first one, in this case.

"Yeah, I am"

I slapped my EOD suit's helmet on my head, despite the sweltering heat, to signal that this conversation was over, and we should get back to work.

John looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He just sighed, and grouped up with the rest of our men. They too, put their helmets on their heads.

It's an odd sensation, once you have that helmet on. It blocks out all the sound from the outside world. All your could hear was the sounds of yourself breathing, amplified through the helmet, and the sound of the onboard radio crackling, which is what we used to communicate with each other. Add that to the fact that you have no peripheral vision, and are not able to move your head, it makes for a disorienting experience, that only years of training can mostly eliminate. Not only this, but we moved very, very slowly with the suits on.

Not that we weren't ungrateful for the suits... They were the things that kept us alive. Nothing stops shrapnel shards like our suits. If I didn't wear the suit, I would've lost a lost more than just my hand. I would've lost my life. I found out after the explosion that took my hand, the tech team that were doing an examination of my suit, to find out the flaw in the suit that caused me to lose my hand, found a 6 inch shard of metal stuck in the back of the suit. With the speed that it was going, it would've went right through me, breaking through my spine, and my heart in the process, and killing me instantly. Instead, due to the suit, I received a shallow cut on my back instead.

I was shaken out of my thoughts my John, again.

"What are your orders, sir"

I didn't honestly know what to say, I just said what my instinct told me to say.

"Advance, slowly. Check the top of all buildings, before, when, and after we pass," I ordered.

And that, we did. Slowly, we advanced, checking for IEDs using only visual aids. Honestly, it wasn't that hard to spot them. They usually were concealed under a mound of garbage, dirt, or underground, with only the trip wire visible. Yeah, they were pretty easy to spot, if you weren't under fire, as we were soon to be.

As we advanced slowly throughout the dusty streets, a round hit the road ahead of me. I stared at it, dumbfounded, a million things going through my mind at once, before I settled on one thing.

I screamed "Contact" into the radio, and all of us instantly dropped into disgusting mix of old garbage, and dust that was the street of Afghanistan. Fortunately, we couldn't smell it, nor feel it, as we were in sensory isolation, with the only exception being our eyesight.

I started to look as far as my suit's neck enable me, to try to find out where the gunshot came from. As I did this, I pulled out my MP5 SOPMOD from my hip's holster, and slapped a fresh magazine into it.

I started to breathe heavily. This was to be my first time in combat, and I didn't want it to be my last. Not that I was afraid of dying, it was just that I was afraid of the consequences of my death for Julia. She'd have no money anymore, and she was barely 13... She couldn't get a job.

I was brought out of my fear induced thought process by another bullet hitting the dust, this time closer to me. This time, I was able to pinpoint the location of where the shot came from. Turning myself onto my back, as I was unable to move my arms more that 20 degrees with the suit on, I aimed at the insurgent who had fired upon me.

I fired a five round burst at him, and to my eternal shame, most of them missed. It was only due to sheer luck that one bullet happened to hit his chest. He fell back off the building, and landed with a wet crunch that I could hear, even through the suit. I winced. If he wasn't dead from the bullet, he was now.

I rolled back onto my stomach, and began to search for more insurgents. None. My team seemed to have gotten them all. Just in case though, I asked for a confirmation over our team's radio.

The confirmation told me that we were in the clear; all hostiles eliminated.

I shakily stood up, groaning from all the adrenaline running through my body. I felt like I was suffocating, due to the fact that my helmets filters could not keep up with the rate I was sucking in oxygen. I quickly took off the helmet, and breathed out a sigh of relief.

Everybody else around me seemed to be doing the same thing. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a glint of light.

Turning to left of it, I saw the last insurgent aiming a dragonuv rifle at me. My eyes widened, and I backed away, vainly trying to get away from the bullet I knew was coming. Then I saw the flash of the gun, signaling that it fired. I wanted to cry, and shout in anger at the same time. This is not how I wanted to die!.

Then the world faded into black. My last thought was, as I sunk into oblivion was "I'm sorry Julia... I failed you"