My boss sits in front of me, a large brown cigar in his hands. The sickly sweet smell of smoke drifts into my nose like a ghost on an unseen wind, nearly choking me. That is not the only thing that was choking me though. The smoke is nothing compared to the feeling of dread that is washing over me, crushing me, suffocating me, and slowly, slowly killing me. My best friend is standing next to me, and I can see from the way the light from the humming blue monitors glints off his eyes that he isn't fairing any better than I am. We both just stand there, nervous, sweating, and sick to our stomachs. My boss doesn't seem to care, though, as he keeps rambling on about our attack plan. I don't see any good in this plan. It is a suicide mission. The boss finishes speaking and looks at us with a questioning glint in his eyes. We both nod and leave the room, walking slowly, certainly, to our deaths.
Blood. Blood. All I can see is blood. The smoldering ash and rubble lays around us, evidence of our work. I glance to my left and into the unseeing honey brown eyes of my best friend. Dead. He is dead. He has blood dripping down his face from a terrible bullet wound in the center of his forehead. I'm not much better off though. I can see that my arm is shot through several times, and I can feel a searing pain in my gut as if a white hot sword is pressing into me. There is nothing I can do about it. Our mission was to come out here and destroy the base at all costs. Costs including our lives. Looks like we succeeded. My body feels oddly cold and I am strangely sleepy like I haven't slept in days even though I know that was not the case. I use the last ounce of strength I possess to roll onto my back. I stare up into the gray sky that billows with the smoke from hundreds of fires. This is it. I slowly relax and close my eyes one final time. A few last breaths escape from my lips before I give up all together - then everything is eerily silent. My heartbeat slows until it is a mere nothing. A once strong and promising life needlessly wasted in war. Don't worry Mutter, Vater, Bruder, Feliciano. I'm coming.