I could remember how it all started. Unlike politics what happened was unimaginable. That fateful day, soldiers walked through the front door and shot down every single one of them the alleged rebels. You must be thinking, I'm one of those alleged rebels. You're wrong. I am one of them, the barbaric soldiers that crashed through the windows to kill those innocent men, women and children. I couldn't disobey my captain's orders.
Before all of these started, I was grew up under them. Vortex. They kidnapped babies and raised them to be a Super soldier. Including me. Like everyone of the soldier's we'll never get to know who are we. Who were our parents. All we were told to remember was to fight. To fight for what Vortex called 'justice'. Then the day came. The alarms raised. I ran towards the locker room, grabbed my suit and ran for the armoury. My section, 17, was then ordered to board a chopper.
Once we landed we began shooting. Then I began to question my actions. Why am I doing this?! They are good, innocent people. I couldn't Fire even if I wanted to. Then the captain came. I shot mid-air, pretending to be attacking. It failed. The captain dragged me into the chopper like how a owner drags a dog. He slaps me and orders me to take it seriously. I was in a state. He pushed my off and I could sense he was watching me. Then I did what I regretted the most. Shoot. Kill. Slaughter. Then I heard a faint call for help. A woman lying in front of me. She was calling for help. Captain then tells me to end her. I figured this may be the only right thing to do; end her suffering. I apologised to the woman and put a lead in her head.
Later that night, I heard stories about the same thing happening across the globe. Was it what it was worth? Death, torture and massacre, just for a one-man order for the world? I forced myself to go to sleep with the pain in my heart.
