Chronicles of the Royal Marines

Prologue- No Man's Land

Europa- 20XX- War museum, Edinburgh- Valkyria

"Grandpa! Grandpa! Is that you in that photo?" A boy joyfully asked his Grandfather as he struggled to keep up with his over-energetic grandson.

Coming to see the photo hanging in a display case showcase four people in the Federation military uniform, two male and two female and a dog. All of the soldiers were standing behind a tank that was similar to the one that was being displayed at the entrance of the museum. The grandfather stared at the picture only to see his younger self with pride as his memories flashed all the time he spent during, on how he lived and fought back then.

"Never thought I'll see this photo again." The old man's eyes then were drawn to the writing beside the wall, it reads 'Edinburgh Army 101st Division, 1st Battle Brigade, 32nd Armored Ranger Battalion, 2nd Regiment, Platoon E commanders, NCOs, and mascot- By Miles Arbeck'

"Miles?", The old man chuckles, "I see you donated that old thing huh?"

Seeing the picture slightly tilted, the old man's instinct was to reline the frame but as he did another picture fell out from behind. With a closer inspection of the frame the old man could see the frame was slightly broken but what was more surprising was the picture he found from behind.

It was 5 people in an unusual military uniform and a large vehicle that looked very advanced for its time. He flipped the photo to see writing that said,

"History would never know about us. But that will not stop our fighting spirit." -Alistair Marsden, leader of Oracle Squadron of the Royal Marines Commandos

The old man widened his eyes in surprise as he stared deeply into the photo, remembering the face he saw in that photo.

"Marines... Alistair? I missed you old friend"

****

Many years ago- Afghanistan- 20XX

*SPLASH!*

a bucket of cold water splashed into Private Terry Fisher's face, abruptly returning him to consciousness. He coughed and wheezed out the water from his mouth and nose. The Private's mind was racing as his survival instinct started to kick in and started to hastily move his body to move about but worryingly he found himself tied to a chair.

He jolted his head to the right and left to view his surroundings, Private Terry could see that he was being held in a small room that was only being lit by a sole light bulb on the ceiling. His face was a mess, his mouth was bleeding, his right eye was swollen shut, and a deep cut on his left cheek.

Upon realising his situation, terror is the only thing the private feels. Suddenly, Terry coughed out blood and then looked up to see a bearded man who held a dripping bucket. This was something out of Terry's nightmare when he saw the man's face that showed a mix of hatred and delight.

"So Englishman tell me... Do you have a family?" the man said in English with a strong Arabic accent. "I would be pleased to know before you'll be on live television for your beheading. And so we could pass any last words for you."

Terry didn't know what was worst, being beheaded or having a terrorist passing on a message to his family. After being drugged and beaten all night long, he just wants a quick end to his pain but not like this.

Terry attempted to speak but was halted with a bloody cough.

"How about I shoot you instead." The Private chuckles.

"Perhaps your ego needs a little adjustment."

His captor nodded to an armed grunt who happily cracked his knuckles. Terry didn't know how much more pain he could endure before his mind would collapse.