Fighting Someone Else's War

Prologue

It was like a separate chapter leading to the conclusion. There was a problem and a conclusion with events happening at the same time as well. Here he was fighting for something he didn't believe in. Death was awaiting him if he took the wrong turn, a turn he didn't want to take. Firing his M4 like no tomorrow, he shot at anything that moved. An old man walking? Not anymore after he shot him dead by force of habit. He was getting jumpy as the sound of gunfire escalated.

Stuck in the middle of a warring city was the last thing he wanted to do. He fired his M-203 into a house window. The explosion blew almost everything out of the room. Shards of glass and pieces of wood from a desk were ejected from the room. A scream was heard and he felt sure that there would be one less person trying to kill him.

Bullets were kicking around him in his desert fatigues. His flak vest would stop a 9mm bullet but the bullets that were kicking up were the rounds of an AK-47, not a 9mm bullet. Call him a coward but he knew that stepping around the corner would be his last action on Earth. The rumbling sounds of tanks were assuring but were they Abrams tanks or some old Russian behemoth? Well he'd find out later… hopefully not.

Going with his instincts, his act of stupidity and heroism, he ran out of his cover and into the fray. Five rebels looking his way. Not anymore. He ran and ran, it seemed forever until he reached the next bullet-filled house. Here and there were a group of untrained, amateur rebels running and shooting their AK's at him and missing. Aiming his M4 he shot all four them with single shots to the head. He was amazed that he was still intact and not dead by a bullet.

Trusting himself again he raced towards a destroyed house. He kicked the door down and hid in the backroom to refill his M4 and orient himself in the ruined city. He needed a break and here's where it comes. It all began when Europe and all it's countries went to war with each other. God knows how but it happened and Canada and the United States of America were going to fix it from getting worse. It was like a World War III except they were dealing with not only the national armies but rebels as well. How could all this have happened? He needed the answers now but right now the only thing he received were bullets raining on him.

He dropped his M4 to the ground and took off his K-pot. He needed to relax, to be calm and fight smartly not like the amateurs he just killed. He was trained to be the best of the best and he was the best. He was more than a regular, he was a Ranger. He was part of a group of guys better trained than the regular Army. They were the last thing an enemy would see.

Feeling that he was ready to face the son-of-a-bitch that was trying to kill him he put on his helmet and grabbed his M4/M-203 and headed outside. The fighting had cooled down and the sounds of the tanks were gone. The gunfight at his area was dead but the fighting over at the east sector was still large. He could here and see the routine Cobra and Apache helicopters doing their runs back and forth. They would hover a bit to spot their target then nose down and unleash their mighty cannons on the rebels. He felt the same way as the rest of the army felt, the helicopters in the sky kept them calm. The helicopters were like their eyes in the sky. They could see farther than a soldier on the ground and could provided cover fire for a team extracting.

Running for about three blocks he stopped and looked around. He couldn't find his platoon. Where were they? Their mission was to secure the city but he was separated when an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) landed near him forcing him to go the wrong way. The rounds of the enemies aided his retreat to a safer place… but all that was three hours ago. It seemed to him that the whole city seemed secure enough, well enough to stay open for five minutes without getting shot at.

The Ranger began to find his way back to his platoon. Guessing that where the fighting was also was where his friends were, he headed to that direction. It seemed that the streets were so safe that he didn't have to hide for cover anymore, he was free to walk in the middle of the street without a single bullet being fired at him. But there was horror in every direction he looked. Dead bodies here and there. He saw and body… or what used to be a whole body. The arms were missing and the stomach was cut wide open by a machine gun probably. Death was everywhere. If an Apache or a Cobra did their runs you would be sure to have a safe street. No one would stick their head out during the gun runs by the helicopters.

The sound of the fighting increased and he knew he was getting close. Bullets were ripping around him causing him to hide for cover behind mailboxes or anything solid that would conceal him. There was no one on the streets so that would mean there were people trying to kill him inside houses. He took a breath in and ran to the nearest house. He was almost there when a rebel jumped out and shot at his direction. The bullets kicked up around his feet as he brought his M4 up and pulled of three shots to the head. The bullets went smack into his head almost tearing it right off the neck. Not looking back he kicked the door of the house down and entered inside.

He pulled up a chair and sat down. No one was inside the house or either that they were hiding somewhere. Looking out the window he witnessed the disaster that had befallen on the city. The clean and commercial and residential area was ripped up. The glasses of the houses were shattered and the walls were painted with bullet holes. Bodies littered the street and the smell of blood filled the clean air. A normal life had become hell in this part of the country now that the U.S and Canada were through with it. The two North American countries had just liberated the city from a great threat but to the locals they were conquerors. To them the two armies came and caused death. They took life away like it was nothing but to the Canadians and Americans, these people were killing each other off and someone had to stop it.

After reorienting himself the Ranger stepped out and headed off towards the fighting. Just as he took five steps out of the house an amateur that was firing his pistol in the air was taken down by his M4. The Ranger continued to walk when suddenly he noticed something. The world around him had become eerily quiet. The shooting had become mute and time itself seemed to have come to a stop. Shaking his head a bit to clear his mind a few thoughts came to him: either had grown deaf from the fighting or the fighting and everything else had stopped. If the fighting had stopped then it was all over and Allied forces were going to sweep through the city one more time to make sure. If he was deaf then he would have to be careful in the city for stray bullets.

Deciding to get moving he ran as fast as he could to the nearest intersection when all of a sudden the unbelievable happened. He was facing a bluish light portal thing. To him it looked like a Stargate from the mini-series he watched and from the movie… without the co-ordinates though, it was just the liquid looking part. Deciding that the world had gone crazy and jumping trough would send him to another world he did it. He stepped in and was soon sucked out of his present world.

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Author's Note: I see you like or sort of like Band Of Brothers. Well you can read it at Schnoogle because you see... well I like to do it in HTML style so... well I hope you like this one equally. It's a shame I stopped it one FanFiction.net but the one at Schnoogle is uh... error free at least... I think. Harry and friends will come in in Chapter One. Oh yeah, I do edit my work now... I think I edited it enough.