Legal Disclaimer: I do not own either Silent Hill nor do I own Jacob's Ladder (Dante's Inferno). They are copyrighted by their respectable owners. Enjoy the story…

-Prologue - Hell-

Mekong Delta, Vietnam - October 6th, 1971 (15 years ago…)

War was Hell.

…And boy, was Charlie good at making it that. They had been deep in the jungles for a good week and a half now. Midway into it, they found themselves in an ambush with what they thought to be local village militia. It was pitch-black and it was like they were pouring out of the woods like a bleeding festering wound. Rod, as well as the rest of his group, had been edgy during his stay, perhaps also a bit nervous. During the ambush, however, he was scared out of his wits.

There were no bombs going off around him; no explosions that filled the starless sky with light and color. Only gunfire. His comrades were scattered, but behind him he regretted because he felt that if he was behind or mixed in with the group, he might feel a little more safe. Perhaps it was better that he didn't, cause he blindly emptied three clips from his standard issue berretta into the darkness, not even certain if he was hitting anything other than wood and air. But eventually, he heard a loud pop accompanied with a scream.

And then the enemy fire stopped.

Everyone looked blindly around, confused. Their group leader and Sergeant, Mike Strokie, walked through the soldiers whom were still alive with his flashlight switched on and began scouring around the area for any remains of the enemy. Laying dying from a slug in the stomach inside some bushes, was a Vietnamese boy that looked as if he weren't even 13 wearing the usual triangular straw hat and torn clothing. He was just a kid.

Strokie called out for one of the soldiers who knew the language and afterwards asked the boy how many was with him. The boy spit in his face and choked out something in his native tongue, telling that the American army came through his village three days ago and killed everyone. His mother and father were shot to death while his older sister was raped and stabbed; left to bleed to death, as well. He was the only survivor and swore revenge on all of the Americans. Shortly afterwards, he died.

Everyone was speechless about the terrible story told by the young boy, but wasn't anywhere close to shocked. They had heard similar stories from other soldiers outside their platoon. Some told by crying soldiers, others by the ones who bragged about the deeds. But their unit was nothing like those animals. They were better than that. They were good soldiers.

Since then, nothing had happened. They were at the moment, camped outside a marsh near the jungle in what appeared to be an already ransacked village; no bodies, nothing. Only the huts remained like an eerie ghost town. The whole day, they sat there. Waiting. For anything.

As evening came close, Rod and his buddies sat around near one of the huts close to a thicket. There was Jerry, Chunky Paul, Doug, Big George, Frank (whom he sat next to), and shitting out in the woods in front of them, was "Professor Jacob." It was a little funny that a guy who graduated with a philosophy honor would actually avoid skipping the draft. Why the hell would this guy want to come here, he wondered from time to time. Jacob stood out the most from the group; the joker, always smiling.

As everyone passed joints around and conversed, Rod sat there as he ate his rations, thinking about his poor old mother that he had left behind back in the Bronx. Whenever he got the chance, he would write letters and send money to her. She was a devout Catholic, which was the only thing that bothered him. Personally, he thought the idea of God was a little far fetched to believe in. He couldn't see, hear, smell, or touch Him. But if her beliefs made her happy, so be it.

As he thought of these things, here came Jacob with his pants pulled up with a sheepish expression ready to portray a smile at any moment.

"Hey, professor." Rod called out, musing. "How many times can you shit in an hour?"

Jacob only answered with a grin wrapping around his sweaty face accompanied with a small chuckle.

"Unless he's got muku-shits, man." suggested Frank, before he spitted out some food.

"Why do you even bother pulling them up?" asked Rod.

Jacob only chuckled again.

Then George, the History grad, chimed in with a mischievous smile. "Ah, you jerkin' off again, huh Jake?"

Jacob triumphantly laughed in response as he sat down next to the group laying his rifle down.

"Come on over here and jerk on this." suggested George, still joking. "Come choke my black roots."

Everyone in their small group burst into snickers and laughter at the conversation at hand. George then added an innocent "Please…?"

Paul, the chubby one of the group, spoke in broken laughter to Jacob, "He's… asking you politely."

George's quip was matched by the Professor when he replied, "Ain't got a fuckin' tweezer, man."

The then escalated with "ooh's" and clappter as for that one moment, they forgot where they were and everyone was having fun. And then all of that stopped when Sgt. Strokie came whirling by, screaming, "We got Gouks in the tree-lines!"

Then chaos ensued. Everyone ran to whatever position they were supposed to be at, all except for Rod and his friends, whom began to feel sick all of a sudden. Something was wrong, and it was then that Rod collapsed to the ground, clutching his forehead in agony. "It's my head!" he shouted amongst the moans, screams, and chaotic chatter. "Help me! Somebody, help me!!"

He then shouted out to Paul, who was closest to him since Frank wandered off to vomit. As Rod's face and eyes were grinded with mud and his skull feeling as if it were to split in half, he shouted, "Aaaargh! Paul, help me!!"

Then what Rod saw next were terrifying pictures that had entered his brain in flashes. He saw his mother whom smiled with the Catholic rosary in her hands, then her passing out and collapsing down the apartment stairs, her death, her funeral, and eventually, a vision of her rotting, worm-infested corpse inside a coffin buried 6 ft. into the earth.

This was enough to send him back into the air on his feet and into a screaming berserk rage as he continuously and violently spun around in a 360 degree angle; knocking down anyone who came into contact with him. Of Paul, a random soldier, and Frank whom surround him in an effort to calm him down, Rod's fist slammed into the side of Frank's face with a force that flung him almost 3 feet away to the ground.

Then came explosions followed by gunfire. They were surround. Everyone flew around the village in a panic as soldiers fell around shot to ribbons or blown to pieces. Rod collapsed to the ground again, screaming some more as his burning dirt-clogged eyes darted around the camp. And then he saw them, the ones attacking him. Charlie company. His enemy. Jumping back to his feet, he pulled out his gun and charged quickly into the fray to kill all of his enemies as he screamed out all the curses of the human language…