Oh hi! I apologize for the lack of my own presence, as my computer's screen recently blacked out and I haven't been able to do anything. But do not fear! For I have returned to continue this tale of explosive adventures!


He stayed down. The Chinese military obviously didn't want anyone to get across that bridge. He could still see his squad a small distance away, firing at the opposing soldiers. Though his rifle was in the middle of the street, he now remembered an alternative he could use. He pulled out his M320 grenade launcher, thinking of how useful it could be. The hostiles were taking cover behind sandbags, with one soldier mounting his light machine gun on top. Barely revealing himself, he aimed the weapon at the sandbags, with his sight slightly above them, and fired. He watched the grenade arc a bit until it hit the sandbags directly where the enemy soldier was at with the light machine gun.

He quickly went back to the safety of cover, having succeeded in eliminating the threat. He reloaded the M320, pulling out the now useless and empty shell, and sliding in a new one, ready to fire. He popped out and aimed again, this time at a small group of advancing soldiers. He fired once again, and watched as all at once every member of that small squad was eliminated. He saw how the explosive had directly hit one of the soldiers legs, blowing it off in the process. Pvt. Grant had never seen such a thing of that nature happen before his eyes, and it bothered him a bit. Large amounts of blood was not something he could easily cope with. He laid back against his protection for a moment, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He vomited, still disturbed by the image of the gory fate of that soldier.

"C'mon, regain your composure. Don't forget why you're here," he mentally told himself. He regained his bearings and loaded in another shell. As he peered out of cover to fire again, his eyes widened and he immediately returned to cover. Advancing from the other side of the bridge was a Chinese Type 99 tank, aiming to kill. He remained terrified, afraid that he would hyperventilate, when suddenly the ground beneath him began rumbling. He looked up as a M1 Abrams tank rolled up to the carnage, stopping next to him as it fired at the oncoming threats. He suddenly felt much better, extremely grateful that this large metallic savior appeared.

The two tanks at the opposite sides began firing at each other, using both the attached machine guns and the heavy explosive shells. The shelling went on for a small moment, and during that moment Pvt. Grant kept himself down, deciding to let the M1 Abrams tank do the fighting. The explosives launched from one side to another, some hitting, and some missing. Pvt. Grant looked at his rifle that was laying on the street, contemplating whether or not to retrieve it. After a moment of thinking, he ran out as the tank gave cover fire, grabbed his rifle, and dived back towards his protective rubble.

He inspected the weapon, checking for any problems. He wiped the dust off of the weapon, and blind fired in the general direction of the bridge to make sure it was properly working. Thankful that his firearm was still functioning, he looked at the M1 Abrams. It was smoking heavily, with large marks of damage covering the front. It suddenly caught fire, and from the top of the tank, an engineer emerged, coughing violently whilst hastily escaping the smoke. "Get down it's gonna blow!" he screamed, running at Pvt. Grant and jumping on top of him as a final shell hit the M1 Abrams, with a large explosion sounding off. Pvt. Grant fell on his back with the engineer on top of him.

He opened his eyes and saw the lifeless face of the engineer. Horrified, he moved the body off of himself and looked down. In the engineers back, a sharp piece of metal had penetrated through where the heart would be. This man had given his life to keep Pvt. Grant from dying. He placed his hand over the dead engineers eyes and closed them, then securing his dog tags, paying whatever respects he could. He looked forward, and realized he had not been shot since the destroyed tank provided a large piece of cover, keeping him safe. He ran to the remains of the vehicle and watched as his squad mates ran over to him, taking cover with him.

"Thank god you're okay! We almost lost you!" Sgt. Bellar said, the squad taking cover as other small amounts of U.S. soldiers charged forward at the opposition. "We wont be okay unless we get that tank dealt with!" Cpl. Enderes yelled as a shell whizzed over the rubble just barely. Pvt. Heckfar spoke up, "I'll go." he said, showing that he still had his C4 explosive charges.

"Are you sure that you can get it done?" Sgt. Bellar asked seriously.

"More than I'll ever be."

The squad was silent for a moment, knowing that Pvt. Heckfar would be putting himself in an insane amount of danger, considering that he would have to find a way to make it to the tank, plant the explosives, and get away however possible. It seemed like suicide, but it had to be done by someone, otherwise that same tank would continue ending the lives of more allies. "Semper Fi." Sgt. Bellar said, using the famous United States Marines quote, meaning "always faithful". Pvt. Heckfar responded with a quick salute, then sprinted to the right, disappearing behind a nearby building.

Pvt. Grant prayed that he could get the job done, wishing he wouldn't have to see anyone close to him die. The squad popped out of cover, and began laying down fire at whatever hostile infantry were present, along with a few friendly squads doing the same. As they were firing, he saw a friendly squad get blown away in his peripherals. He shuddered, but kept firing. Another boom sounded out and the other squad supporting was no more. Pvt. Grant removed a magazine from his rifle to reload when he saw the Type 99 with its barrel pointed at him and the squad.

Fear flowed through him, as he was looking into the face of death. He closed his eyes, not accepting death, but acknowledging it.

Boom.

Pvt. Grant kept his eyes closed, thinking he had died. Dust was everywhere, and coughing could be heard from the squad. The dust began settling, and when he looked at where the tank was, he smiled and gave a loud cheer. Pvt. Heckfar was standing next to a destroyed and burning tank, waving to the squad, who all responded with appraisal for his lucky feat.

"Nice work man!" Pvt. Grant yelled to Pvt. Heckfar, immensely relieved. Cpl. Enderes and Sgt. Bellar were crouched behind the rubble, as Sgt. Bellar had been shot in the shoulder and Cpl. Enderes was treating the wound. Despite the injury, the two continued the celebration. Pvt. Grant was smiling when he looked back at Pvt. Heackfar, then the smile immediately vanished. A figure was behind Pvt. Heckfar, who was strangling him from behind. Pvt. Grant aimed his rifle at the figure, and saw that he had the jaw of a skull painted on their face mask. "It's fucking him!" Pvt. Grant mentally screamed, hastily lining up the shot at the intruding enemy and pulled the trigger.

Click.

He realized his mistake and began cursing to himself and grabbed a new magazine. Back when the tank was aiming at him, he had forgotten to reload his rifle. Just as he reloaded and aimed his firearm once again, it was too late. The enemy already had the knife jammed into Pvt. Heckfar's neck and was stabbing him multiple times, then threw him down and ran. Pvt. Grant fired, again and again, emptying his entire magazine, filled with anger and hatred for this one man who had done this. Much to his discontent, he missed each shot, and the perpetrator escaped.

"No! Damn it, no!" Pvt. Grant screamed as he left Cpl. Enderes and Sgt. Bellar, who had just fixed his injury and hadn't noticed what had happened. Once they got up and saw, they sprinted towards Pvt. Heckfar with Pvt. Grant, scared to see what had fully happened. Pvt. Grant kneeled next to Pvt. Heckfar, trembling when he saw the face of his comrade. Pvt. Heckfar's face had one final emotion, as his eyes were wide open, suggesting his final thoughts consisted of surprise and terror. Multiple stab wounds adorned Pvt. Heckfars neck, which were bleeding profusely. Cpl. Enderes swiftly kneeled next to him as well, checking for any signs of life. There were none.

Pvt. Grant lowered his head, quietly lamenting the loss of his squad mate. The face of the engineer flashed through his mind, seeing that final emotion just before he died. It shook Pvt. Grant to the core, having seen those expressions. Pvt. Grant slowly proceeded to close the eyes of Pvt. Heckfar, and gently removing his dog tags. Cpl. Enderes only stared at the deceased soldier, thinking of the past memories they shared as friends together. Sgt. Bellar stood solemnly, saddened that he had lost one of his own squad. They felt like family to him, and it hurt him the most.

Pvt. Grant stood up and looked around at the nearby scenery. More U.S. forces were advancing, all passing by the squad to move up to the next area to engage in further combat. "He did it," he said as the squad looked at him, "he died to achieve a goal. He fulfilled a duty, and gave the ultimate sacrifice. We can't leave what he gave be in vain, so let's get moving and get this war done with."

The squad nodded, reloading their weapons while also using this moment to catch a much needed breath. Pvt. Grant was now in deep thought, reviewing the situation in his mind. "Damn it... If I was just smart enough to have loaded my gun he would have been alive... It's my fault..." he thought to himself, feeling responsible. Just as he did when he was in the transport helicopter, he cleared away his negative thoughts and focused on something else. Someone else. He made it his own personal goal to avenge Pvt. Heckfar. He would kill the man who had done this.

Upon recollecting his thoughts about the past situations, he could easily tell that it was the same person who was in the metro with the jammer. The killer was a recon soldier, as it could be seen by the gear he was wearing. Though however many details about this individual he remembered, there was one obvious fact that anyone could distinguish. The painting of the jaw on his face mask. So far, Pvt. Grant hadn't seen a single person with the decoration adorned, so he mentally noted that if he saw the image of the recon with the skeletal jaw again, it had to be him.

Sgt. Bellar must have noticed that Pvt. Grant was out of focus to his surroundings while sitting down, so he walked over and shook him lightly, resulting in Pvt. Grant looking up at him. "We'll get that son of a bitch. I promise you that." Sgt. Bellar said in a serious tone. "Damn right we are." Pvt. Grant responded with a raspy voice. He stood up, and looked towards the direction that nearly every U.S. combatant was going. The giant tower in the center of the chaotic city.