September Twelfth: 3:30 P.M. Iraq, Six miles south of Zakho.
It s just another day out on the battlefield. There is nothing to worry about, just a routine patrol around the Zakho river and the town to make sure everything is where it needs to be. There is nothing different about today that we didn t do yesterday, but why am I so on edge? Jager Himell thought to himself. As one of several marines on this little patrol, he constantly questioned what exactly he was doing out here. Well, he knew why he was in Iraq. Ever since he was a kid, all he wanted to do was be a marine, he wanted to be part of the crew that held the biggest, baddest and most battle-hardened soldiers in the world. Since middle-school, all the muscular Aryan had done was train, research and study for the sake of joining this prestigious group. Basic training was a breeze and when they gave him those dress blues and his uniform, it was the proudest damn moment of his life.
Jager was a soldier to soldiers, everything he did was an exemplary action, showing courage and valor in the face of adversity wherever it reared its ugly head. Yet, there was still something that held him back, his anger, unable to keep himself calm in situations that demanded it, it had kept him as a grunt all these years, which suited him just fine. Jager had no need for all that bureaucratic bull shit, all he had need for was a gun in his hand and a target to shoot at. There was nothing for him at the higher ranks, he would be bored there, so he was fine sticking to Lance Corporal status. Hey, Jager! Stop day-dreaming! That voice woke him up from his thoughts, bringing him to the realization that his M-16 was getting too hot to touch from sitting in the sun too long. Sand was blowing into his face, getting caught in his light beard and stinging his eyes. Damn, I knew I should have grabbed my shades. Cursing softly under his breath, Jager shielded his eyes from the sun then turned his head towards his superior officer. The only way to tell him apart from anyone else in their combat gear was the stripes down his arm, giving the man a pause before finally retorting. Yes sir, Sergeant Ream, sir! Relax Jager, nothing ever happens in this sector. Just keep your head on your shoulders and a sharp eye out. We don t want to make today, the day where something finally does. Laughing, the Sergeant walked carefully down to the other two members of their fire team. Of these two, Jager kept his eyes toward Fire their second in command and the automatic rifleman of the group. The newest member and he cradled his weapon, an M27 IAR, in his arms like it was his baby; it was clear the guy was scared, but he didn t need to be, at least in Jager s eyes. This was a veteran squad with only a few more months of duty left before they got shipped back home for relief. Kid drew the lottery with this little assignment.
Hey, Ready Jager s ears perked up at hearing his assignment name called, as a rifleman he was to be a scout and make sure everything was safe before they departed. It was the assist that had called to him, pointing out towards the road side away from the Humvee they were standing beside. What do you make of that smoke over there? You think someone is cooking or do you think they ve got a fire on their hands? All of the soldiers at this point turned their heads toward the smoke that was rising up from the nearby town of Zakho. A pillar of white smoke rising up from the top of a house and rising up from the sky, since it wasn t black, they all knew it wasn t a structural fire, but it was way too much smoke to be issued from a cooking fire.
I don t know .from what I can tell it might be a bush fire or maybe someone decided to burn their trash. Regardless, it might be a good idea to check it out, we ve got nothing better to do anyway. Still, your orders Sergeant. Jager stated, twisting his head back to the squad leader, he fiddled with his dog tags before pointing to the Humvee.
Load up boys, we ll go poke our heads in and then get back to marching in the sands. Wouldn t want the brass thinking we re slacking off while their sorry asses are sipping iced-tea in the barracks. The soldiers laughed in response to this, with the exception of Fire who only clutched his gun closer to his chest and got into the vehicle. You should lighten up Lance Corporal, the two devil dogs back there will watch your ass, so no need to worry about getting a bullet in it. The young man only nodded in response, leaning back in his seat, weapon still at the ready as everyone took their places in the Humvee. It cranked easily and within seconds, they were off, heading towards the town along the road-side. Already they could see another fire team driving from the opposite side to check it out as well.
Seems we ve got company on this little recon mission, Jager, open up radio contact with the other squad. If they get visual contact on what s happening before we do, I want to know about it.
Yes sir! Jager responded immediately, the Aryan moving towards the radio before an explosion rocked his ears. None of them had put in ear-plugs, so the sound even from far off created that all too familiar ringing sound. Heads turned, their eyes dilating as they saw the ball of fire rising up from where their allied Humvee had just been driving. Sargent Ream twisted his head once again, starting to shout as he turned the Humvee towards the other.
Go, go, go! Weapons check now! EAR PLUGS IN! Jager s head spun slightly, but he could still make out everything his Sergeant was saying which was a good thing at least. Check for survivors! Go, go, go! A continuation of shouts came as they approached, Jager leaping out of the vehicle and rushing towards the other before he heard it. Ticking . Oh god, no.
RUN! Jager shouted before another explosion rocked them all from behind, the Humvee sent flipping over with his squad still inside. Heat bloomed up across his entire body, he could feel the flames engulfing him as the force of the explosion tossed him backwards, causing him to roll through the sand. Blood was running down from his cheeks and jaw, his teeth having been rattled to the point of causing his gums to bleed. Feeling weak and helpless in the moment, he laid there, certain that he had been concussed as he laid flat on the ground. Every inch of available skin was blacked by the heat, thankful he got off with a light scalding rather than being burnt alive, he could barely pull up his head before noticing the rest of his squad s fate.
All of them were dead, their bodies laid out across the desert like some careless giant had just tossed them about. Each of them had been shot out of the vehicle as it launched upwards, leaving them to smack helplessly into the rocks below. Cringing as he tried to pull his body up, Jager heard the click of a gun behind him, actually several guns. Bodies soon began to appear in his fuzzy line of sight as he could see various members of a terrorist cell standing front of him. Unable to understand what they were saying both due to being unable to hear anything at the moment and unable to understand their language, his eyes twisted up. The bastards were laughing at him, laughing at the dead soldiers .that much he could tell. Anger was welling up inside of him, but so was something else. Gnashing his teeth together, he couldn t believe the pain he felt as several began to fall out.
! Jager began to scream, his fists clenching into the sand as his eyes dilated rapidly, his heart pounding in his chest as he began to feel blood surging everywhere through his body. Something dormant had awakened inside of him, something that had been hidden for far too long in his genetic structure. Clawing at the ground, foam began to pour out of his mouth in torrents, much like a rapid dog would. The terrorists, believing the male to be dying and simply convulsing as his death troughs set in stopped to watch and laughed his plight.
This time, his scream was loud enough to give the men pause as they looked down at him, noticing the sharp points of his teeth as he pushed himself up on his hands. Fuck you all .I m going to kill you. It was a short quip, before the blood shed started. The citizens of Zahko who were close enough to hear the screaming would never forget it and those who saw it would have the violent scene etched into their minds for eternity. In horror, they watched or listened as men were torn limb from limb by another man, spewing foam from his mouth and screaming his rage. When he was finished, he left nothing but a trail of blood and gore in his wake, walking into the desert, soaked in his victims blood.
These events soon slipped into local legend, a myth used to scare children from joining dangerous organizations, but for Jager Himel, this was a reality that he would never be able to escape. Two days later, he was found in the middle of the desert. Exhausted and collapsed into a heap in the middle of scorching heat, the blood still caked to his body as the last of his canteens water had ran out only two hours prior. Once retrieved, Jager knew the true pain that life could usher in, his dreams soon stripped from him and everything that he had been made torn out of his flesh. While many were glad to see him return and countless others celebrated with him, it was to be a short lived session of rejoice.
Jager we need to talk to you about what happened. That monotonous voice droned inside of his head, even as he sat inside of the airport in New York city. It had been the harbinger of the end for him, the utter destruction of the only thing he felt he was good for in life. Ironically, the airport speakers were blasting the old song, War, what is it good for? Every line seemed to taunt him as he grit his teeth together, the hard points agitating him. It was just another thing in his life that had changed when he had no desire for it too; the fangs that now lined his entire mouth a testament to what was stripped from him. Fists clenched tightly, all he could see was the clock in front of him ticking in front of him, marching on towards the six o clock hour while he counted away from the hours he had been discharged for. Yet, that voice still echoed in his head.
Jager we need to talk to you about what happened. We have numerous reports from the citizens of Zakho who said you .went berserk and started killing those men with your bare hands. They said you literally tore them apart. Stopping, the investigator stood up, his bald head hidden behind a camouflaged beret, which wasn t going a good job of hiding it. Long-bony fingers kept stretching back and forth over a pile of paper work, as his facial features which seemed to be too stretched over his skull eerily looked him over. It was as if the man s skin was too small for his skeleton, but Jager couldn t say anything, couldn t even make a sound. All the air was being sucked out of him in the moment as the man spoke. To him, this man was no longer even human, he was the manifestation of all his fears with steel eyes, piercing into him with knives of pure, hot-hatred.
We understand about your squad-mates death, but your actions and then your subsequent journey into the desert is pointing toward severe psychological distress. He didn t know, no one had bothered to check Jager s mouth aside from a single doctor, who promised to keep the change in his teeth a secret. Still, the silence of the moment, it pained him, his heart sinking low as he knew what was going to happen next. We can t afford to have you have another lapse out on the battlefield Jager, I m sorry, but we re putting you up for discharge on reasons of mental instability. We re going to help you, so don t worry about it. It was all Jager could do at that point not to launch up across the table and tear the man s throat out.
T .thank you sir. Those were the hardest words that ever came out of his mouth. After that, he sat in that same chair too stunned to think. It had been the longest three hours of his life as he listened to the same man that had just sentenced him to what he thought was a fate worse than death. Life lost all its color, there was no reason left for him to bother going on. All the moisture was sucked out of his mouth, the dull droning of that voice rang in his ears, but there was no substance behind it, only a buzz.
I should have said something, should have done anything at all to keep myself from losing my place in the military. It was all I had and now I m lost, I m set out into a tempest with nothing but a raft. War was good for putting these violent hands to work, war was good for giving me meaning, war and the life of a soldier was all I knew. So what now, I ve been pushed over the Rubicon and now the bridge behind me has been burned. I ve got no army backing me and no money to keep my life together. There is nothing left for me.
The sullen beat of the clock striking six was met with Jager leaning his head back against the ridge of the bench he was sitting on. His neck uncomfortably laying against it as he stared upward towards the bleak grey ceiling, there was nothing left. All that he had fought for was gone now. Maybe, maybe I should just give up. Not like anyone is ever going to hire me now. I m just another drain on society, everyone is going to think I m some crazy ass who couldn t take the troubles of war. Yet, all that really happened was that I ended up becoming a mutant. Which in some cases .is even worse than being completely bat-shit. What s the point? I might as well rush out of this place, find the nearest subway station and toss myself in front of the train.
Jager s hands clutched for a moment, then released as he laid still. His entire world became the plastered white of the ceiling above, off-set only by the florescent lights breaking up the monotony every few feet. Ironic, considering it only served to create a new monotony that stunned his brain until he could no longer think, his mind trying to count the number of tiles and getting lost in the waves of them. Until he finally went cross eyed. Damn it, I can t even count right anymore, for fuck s sake, I really am worthless.
Just as the thought left, a voice called out to him, clear and friendly complete with a hand outstretched directly towards him. You look like you ve had better days Jager, come on. Let s get you back to my place. Jager knew who it was from the sound alone, but it didn t mean he was any less happy to see the youthful features of the short-brown haired male in front of him. Though a good head shorter than he was at six foot five, the pair teased each other, even with Jager s tricep being nearly triple the size of Jacob s.
You coming onto me twig? The marine teased putting one of his hands on his friend s head and rubbing it playfully as the pair started to walk away. It was just a momentary reprieve from their troubles, each hiding their own demons inside, torments that were eating away at them from the inside. Neither wanted to trouble the other with what was now antagonizing them, though Jager s problem was already known, Jacob had yet to tell him about what was going on in his own life. These issues appeared to be able to wait, leaving the former hacker to look up at his ex-military friend. The difference between the two was like night and day. Any casual observer could see they were mismatched, Jager being taller, more muscular and clearly a soldier, towered over Jacob physically. His khaki cargos could conceal god knew how many weapons and the word: Marine on his chest was starting to stretch from the girth beneath it.
Jacob meanwhile was just barely five foot ten, his arms rather thin with little in the way of definition and the white button down and jeans combo he was currently wearing, made him look more like an IT worker than anything else. Adding to this was the fact that Jacob was not in his contacts today, instead deciding to wear the thick glasses that aided his border-line blindness. As the pair made their way to the exit, whispers followed them, a few giggles escaping the lips of females as they moved and a few men sneered at them. Others fidgeted uncomfortably in their presence, leaving Jacob to raise an eye brow at the obvious assumption that many were making. Seems they don t know anything about you, Lady Killer. The smaller one quipped with a smirk before pointing over to a leggy red-head in a short skirt, causing the marine to lick his lips playfully.
You shouldn t tease me like that Mr. Southern Gent. I wouldn t exactly want to hurt any fair maidens that cross the path of this boisterous, black knight. Jager chomped his teeth together after this, grinning from ear to ear as the pair laughed in the moment; both happy to see each other again and neither giving a rats ass if anyone thought they were in a relationship or not. They knew the truth, so screw what anyone else thought of them.
So, Jager .any plans for tonight. I m not going to keep you on a leash, since I know you re not actually a nut job. All that came out of the comment was silence, it seemed that sparked the same sullenness that had been lording over him moments before. Jacob wished he hadn t said anything, his one eyes turning downward as they sadly escaped the confines of the dull white world that was the airport.
I think, I m just going to have a drink alright? Maybe go down to a bar and spend the last of my money getting blitzed before getting up tomorrow and looking for a job. I m no deadbeat, so I ll pull my own weight around here. Jager stated with conviction before stepping into his friend s car, whom was now looking at the street with his eyes dilating.
Yeah, sure that sounds great Jager. Let s just get back to your new home before the storm catches us. I heard that there was supposed to be a massive thunderstorm tonight. Jacob ignited the engine while saying this, the clouds gathering behind him in a massive black cumulonimbus. As they drove, the radio beat out Prayer of Refuge by Rise Against The clock flashing six o six.