Held constricted around my fingers stood my rifle, but why is it? Why had we confirmed that peace is a submission, and not the actuality? Is our world therefore desperate for this eternal fight? This remained my own Nightmare Room, and thus on… Held tight around my fingers was my rifle, and I took close aim on the enemies. In my dream I was shot, but in real-life they are successfully to be intoxicated with my bullets. Magazine remained damp as water stood around my fingers: Phantoms

"What is going on?" I questioned, as I took my head for my control.

"Guys! Get up, we have job to do before fighting! First: Rebuild the barrier, and keep the federations at far! Second: Survive and kill. Remember: This game is about endurance! Third: We wait for the night, and then we'll burn their camps. 'Sabotage' is our keyword!"

Mission stood specified, and thus I removed myself from the reserved floor, and raised my armament. Although we may desire to acquire our refueling, since we were quite famished. It stayed crucial to our everyday routine, as our body requires training.

We dispelled ourselves toward the first floor. We sauntered, but I noted several individual rooms, where I avowed that I sighted glimpses of a human as such. Of course, as this remains as an infirmary, therefore it requires its occupants. But that relevance demoralized me, and provided me a firm chill on my back.

This place is quite anxious, agile, and fragmental. Not the way in reality, but in my own mind. It stood inverted…

Showing with portions of fear and terror, we descended and relocated to the first floor. It stood just a long corridor that delivered me an alarming attention, and doubting any presence around me. Hospital's walls were crazed and white, distinguishing insufficient elements of this entire construction. Even the staircase remained considered as non-natural. Someway my teammates managed to notion my unsettling mind. "Are you ok, Elias? You seem pretty sick…"

"I'm fine…"

"Your face is pale", Jackson commented.

"This hospice provides me a notion of illness", Siris joined.

"Really, Siris? Really?" I replied.

We continued to pace down against this never-ending stairway.

As a consequence of the staircase, we stood before a large hall-like room, with scarcer exclusions. It remained enormous, that was factual, but these carved walls distributed me a sensation of disproportion.

In a sudden of despair, I fell to my knees, leaving me hanging beside a table. I focused to grip onto an object in a rapid motion, and acquired a hold from the edge of a table. My head was pounding, and my limbs were in a painful gesture. "You ok, Elias? We'll need to get you a doctor", Ajax yelled at my ear as I pulled myself into control.

He grabbed me from my back, pulling me upward with a force. My intestines were in a peculiar form as I felt it burn hard against my chest. This certainly remained as a skeptical hallucination, as I felt what indeed pain specified. The agony remained alike a shot through my torso, allowing me to collapse against this table. "Guys, just go on. I'm coming after."

"No, Elias. You're not alone", Siris whispered.

"In war you would not say that", I insisted.

"We all would, Elias. We were known because of this sentence: For what you leave behind cannot be more precious than what you acquire nowadays", Rorke explained.

"Just go!" I shrieked with a disquieting sound.

They turned their back against me, and thus I acquired peaceful solitude. I imaged this moment. "Life is not measured by the numbers of breath we take, but the moments that take our breath away."

I stood there, on the ground with my knees, setting my body into function once again. Maybe it is real. No one should be left in isolation. I supposed that it remained as everyman for himself, but I acquired it incorrectly, mistaken by this trick…

Setting, letting my body relax to this condensing, and airless appearance of these walls. Maybe I could survive this cold war.

Rising myself up, depending in myself, I acquired my direction toward the diner. The air was still as typical, and nothing has differenced. Only my thoughts of this hell had an alteration between my minds from hell to heaven. Typically, I would shake these ridiculous moods off, but this kept its presence around my commotion.

"Dude, come here!"

I apprehended my positioning in the infirmary's cafeteria, and thus I ambled toward a tray to yield my meal. There were long arranged tables, settled as a line. I removed my sandwich from the tray and took toward my squad's table.

"We thought you were dead", Wilson clowned.

"Ha-ha, very funny", I responded insipidly.

"Luckily this is before the sunrise, so we can build our defenses while they are working their way toward us", Rorke lucidly spoke. He remained as a clear man, always wearing a cloth, covering his head with dignity. His mind is dim, not showing its internality. He is crepuscular if I may say, but not in a way of darkness, but dubious. When they asked why we aren't the same, we wouldn't play their game. This world inspires many theories, but now… they didn't matter.

"So after this, we construct turrets around this refuge alike to Stone Haven?"

"Basically... yes", Rorke replied with a magnificent grin.

"What is Stone Haven?" Rakesh inquired with confusion.

"Well, you see… Stone Haven is our… The so called Safe Guard place", I whispered. Stone Haven typically remained as a fort, preserving our allies, and where we manufacture our defensive systems, and training our strongest soldiers.

Our breakfast sustained as usually, but such a way that the surroundings were immobile. What would a man say about this all-round place? I would allege as bedlam. Something remained as kept decent here, and that remained as to eat. At least we get fuelled here.

"Let's get to the field, boys!" Rorke bellowed at us as we bothered.

"YES SIR!" we responded at the same time.

"Ouch…" My head taking pain inconsistently, exiting me with a tempo of terror in my hands.

"Dude, I think you need a break."

Wilson procured me from my limb, situating me back to a sedentary position. "Thanks mate… I think I'm fine, just some leftover dread in my veins from the last fight."

"What is causing the pain?" Wilson asked.

"I see these horrifying images in my mind, printed on the back of my brain."

"What do they resemble?" he spoke with an attitude of concern.

"They seem to be death, covering the ground. I see these images of demise, painted on shattered mirrors."

"Just relax, and then get back to work."

He acquired his positioning on the field, obligating me to rest. "Better get accustomed", I thought to myself. It was full of devastating moments, and so I relocated back to the battlefield.

"Wilson, get those turrets online, and Rakesh, move those spikes there, on the crossroad!" Rorke was demanding of our work.

I stepped on the concrete ground, not noticing changes. "You're back online, Elias? Now, go check the barriers over there, east way!"

As he recommended, I sprinted comparable to a maniac, right toward a fence squaring. "I see…" I mumbled with doubt. Deftly, I perceived it as a quite decent or proper shielding device.

This fence would not hold much, but enough. We separated the outer edge of the city, and mobilized the interior parts. "Good to go!" I yelled at Rorke.

"Good! Get back here!"

I sighted a map on his hand, presenting few marks randomly.

"The Hospital is Point Bravo. The Palace is Point Alpha, and the Crossroad is Point Charlie. Then, you see that part there?" he said, pointing toward the eastern, screening off to the hills area. "That is the main position point, and our Fire-team position. They'll have the reports on. Now, we'll wait for the reports from the Fire-team."

Points were clarified, and the sun stood intensifying behind the horizon. Our mental war is fusing with our physical conflict. Now… we play endurance. Let's see who acquires a checkmate.

I pulled my rifle, loaded a magazine. "These NATO Rounds burst with Stopping Power. Let's see whose armor is the thickest. At least my AR500 Body Armor is ready to take few shells, and that is what I really mean."

"Elias, don't always trust your body armor, as it doesn't take all the efforts to get penetrated."

"Whatever, Siris… I moderately just like to get hit and take it as irrelevant."

Yet this day remained fairly even instigating, and I could sense detachability of this weapon and with the moments firing with them. Another hell, another life. …

"Get your fat ass over here, Elias!" Alex shouted in a grand light.

"What? Let's just get over this in a glance, please!" I replied.

"Elias, you need to shoot these targets over there!"

"What it is?"

"Five unarmed ballistic targets!"

"Why should I shoot?!"

"Because you need to get accustomed to the Assault Class!"

"Fine!" I raised my weapon, unbolting the safe. Locking it and revealing a high pitched noise, right from the middle of this aliveness. The targets were assembled from ballistic materials, as if I should state as rubber. Held tight around my fingers remained my rifle, as such; its collapsible stock was pinned on my shoulder.

"Go fully automatic, Elias", Rorke yelled beside Alex.

"Hell no!" I stated, preserving my memories, hearing fully about its consequence. This rifle was a modern build from the M4 Prototype, and named as M4A1 with few reasonable improvements.

"Wait, Elias!" Siris coped to get hold from my back just in time. "Take this silencer."

He handed in a sun-bleached silencer. I attached it tight into my weaponry, acknowledging the heaviness. Bolting it into my rifle as a mobility usage.

"Now, try it out."

I once again unbolted the safety lock, and clipped the iron. The trigger was refreshed and new, completed out of steel.

It shot… The shot penetrated the air like a Phantom. As I stated, I dare not try fully-automatic, as its recoil kicks solid against my bones.

"Where did it hit?!"

"Err… Alex?"

"Headshot!" Alex shrieked with amazement.

"Good job, Elias", Rorke stated as he would always submit.

"The fun isn't over!" I switched to full-auto, shooting with it like a madman. I wasn't overwhelmed by the recoiling force.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

Once again, my shots were right on the target. Sometimes, you may inquire yourself about nonsense, but sometimes you may inquire about your deft.

Kill: "We shoot of our will, and we fall on our demise. We're not immortal, nor invincible. Let us fight, and let us see how we survive. Show me your force in war… In the art of war. Fight as mercenaries, fall like irrelevance. So, take that rifle, and put some holes into another being with your will. You have your own consciousness, and you decide if you want slay.

M4A1:

M4A1 is issued as a standard military assault rifle, originated and developed in US. In my theory, it is the light-weight assault classing, firing 5.56 times 45mm NATO cartridge rounds. It has a medium-high rate of fire with moderate bullet damage. Based on few attributions, it is calculated to be the most accurate weaponry, with a small amount of recoil. It is one of the most astonishing pieces of armaments, showing off its acquirement on damage and on accuracy. In-depth, it is ballistic.