Cruel, Cruel World

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20 years later...

The world had changed. The land was now spinning and weaving itself into a network of information, code, and blood. History had taken place, life was bred. Life had died. This was never more apparent then in the fields and mountains of Afghanistan.

On the AH76 highway, history is apparent here, with ruined cities on the side of the road, and mountain valleys stretching across the road. It was a hotspot for warfare. The US have fought terrorists and combat groups all year round, just about every day. But there was something different about 2020. Something loomed over the troops in the sky, and it wasn't looking pretty.

One of these US armed squads of order was Coyote 3-1, apart of the US Army Rangers 864th Engineer Battalion. Known for their adaptability more then their fighting force per say, their brains were bigger then their brawn. It was a squad of about 20 men and women, and about 5 humvees, all stocked with the soldiers who fought on a day to day basis.

In one of these humvees, sat two men driving down the road to the capital, Kabul on a patrol. Private First Class Matthew Cade, now grown up with a tale of torture, and Corporal Marcus Bern, a friend, and only friend he had made on the job.

In the humvee, a radio played fuzzy Afghan songs, played in a language in which they didn't understand. Matthew was driving, focused on the road as dust tracked from the humvee's ahead. He was focused on what he did, but casually did so at the same time. Marcus was busy talking to someone on his walkie talkie, possibly higher command.

"Roger.. Yeah, those two squads never came back. I understand, sir.."

Matthew wasn't worried about whatever he was doing. If anything, he was focused on something else entirely. He was usually the more quieter of the two, which was one of his specialties in the field, that he couldn't easily lose track of the things ahead. But something sparked his interest.. The clouds, in waves of pure light. Drifting. Always moving ahead. This thought made him shut off the radio, but still kept driving. Meanwhile, Marcus was giving the over and out to whoever what was on the walkie talkie. He then shut it off, and sat back, only to glance over to Matthew.

"Do you know the 115th? They're disbanded. This war is taking the beating out of us."

Matthew didn't look at him, or reply at all. This sparked Marcus' curiosity.

"Matt, you listenin'?"

Matthew shifted back in his seat, with now both hands on the wheel. This time, he replied in a semi-annoyed, tired tone, and gave a sigh.

"..Just trying to drive, Mark."

Marcus rolled his eyes, and threw his hands up in the air before they came back down again.

"Why are you like this? Why so recently? Is it because of the war?"

Matthew thought about it. The battles they fought had inflicted so many feelings on him, but never before had he felt the urge leave it. There was a good reason anyone joined the army, and it wasn't just for the money or the experience. It was simply fighting to make a change. He was just silent for other reasons.

"No..."

"Is it because you're thinking of someone back home-"

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