Notes: This is just a story I'm working on. I don't mean to offend anyone if I do, but this is basically tells of how a group of characters deal with certain things. The main character Sol is basically the voice of every person too afraid to say something. So, yeah. Anyway. Sol has been finding his way into other stories actually, anyway.

Also, if anyone wants to use the characters, ask for my permission first, okay? Thanks.

Chapter 1: Sol

"Kid...this is no place for you. This is a place you should never have come to...this battlefield is only for the damned souls like myself, with nothing to lose. Justice, victory, peace, just empty words spoken to give a sense of humanity. Patriotism...tch...not likely...it's a mere word we spew out to try and appear human. Truth is, we're nothing but killers, devils and demons doing the work of the forsaken and corrupt government officials. Our leaders and presidents are simple minded and pig-headed. You..you're afraid, worried, nervous, praying that all of this ends, I can see it in your eyes...I'll protect you." The vest wearing soldier said as he took a puff of his cigarette and pulled it from his lips, speaking calmly but oddly comfortingly. He casually blew the smoke into the air as the sounds of gunfire and bullets continued to whizz past. He was sitting as casually as anyone behind a crumbled wall of bricks, low enough to provide cover if someone crouched or ducked.

He didn't seem at all fazed by what was happening. The young man beside him reached out a shaky hand, moving some of the man's long messy black hair to see his eyes. Empty and dead they stared ahead. The man made no movements to stop the boy. "Now then. I'll provide cover fire. Listen carefully." The man said before holding up his left hand that held the cigarette in-between two fingers. "Five shots, count them. On the fifth, listen for the click, that means I've switched to full-auto. Once you hear the sixth shot, run for the jeep, call "K-2-0", jump in. Stay low. Got that?"The young man nodded, laying low already behind the wall. "I-I got it." The fear evident in his shaky voice. "Good..." The man put the cigarette back in his mouth and held his M16 ready before moving to a kneel and turned around, peering through the mounted scope and pulling the trigger.

BLAM!

"One..."

BLAM!

"Two..."

BLAM!

"Th-three..." The young soldier closed his eyes trying to drown out the rest of the sounds and concentrate on the man's firing.

BLAM!

"f-four..."

BLAM!

"Five.." He listened, the faint click coming from the M16 followed by a quick sixth shot. The young man stood quickly as the man stood and shot, the sounds of full-auto filling the air now rather then the pops of single-shot or semi-auto. A chorus of screams and shouts filling the air. "K-K20!" The young man yelled as he neared the jeep, nothing. 'Oh god..oh god....I'm dead...' he thought before suddenly, the door of the jeep flew open. Thinking he would hit the door and stopped in front of it. A girl quickly popped out. "Idiot!" She shouted grabbing hold of the collar of his vest and pulling him into the jeep. "Don't stop running! Trust us, you damn rookies!" She shouted again, this time almost right in his ear deafening him temporarily. The black haired man was running for the jeep now as well and jumped in quickly in a low crouch. He turned leaning against the other door across from the open one. Three others entered in much the same way and sat down. The girl shut the door and gave a kick to the boarder separating the front of the jeep to the rear where they sat.

The jeep started up and within seconds was speeding through the warring streets of the town they were in. The young man could barely believe what had happened. He hadn't expected an ambush like this though he had been told countless times by his other teammates in the unit he was stuck in. The leader, their sergeant Sol was frighteningly calm and casual as the shooting began. If it had been a tactical psychological technique, it was certainly effective as it had got to him.

"I-intimida-dation...?" The young man said breathlessly. Still shook up by the battle. "No. I've just got nothing to lose like I told you. I died a long time ago, no reason to try and pretend like I'm still alive. A soulless demon working for the greater devil of this place. A puppet on a string being led to it's ultimate end. Leave while you can kid. War is no place to leave your mark on history. They may call you a hero, a legend, the truth is, you're a killer, murderer, committing a whole new genocide by killing the same as you. I have killed countless men and woman, children and old people. I have tortured all and regret everything." Sol shook his head slowly as he locked his empty eyes with the young man's hopeful green eyes. "Do not make the same mistakes I have...leave while you can..go home." He said before closing his eyes and looking away, taking the nearly finished cigarette from his mouth and putting it out on the top of his left hand, a single scar from the various smokes he had put out on the bare flesh. The young man winced though Sol made no response to it. Simply throwing the butt away and digging out another, lighting it and taking a puff.

"Sarge, you may be dead, but you still have to respect your body." The girl said, dressed in the same gear and outfit as the guys, though she wore less equipment and lighter weapons and gear, her outfit designed more for stealth and sneaking. "Still going to be a spy?"Sol asked, eyes still closed. "FUCK no! I'm going to stay with you bastards until I either get sent off or killed. You guys are more interesting then playing double-oh-seven." The girl chuckled. "Hahaha, watch it Mittens, things are bound to get tougher." Marcus, the muscled strongman of the group laughed, he usually carried the heavier gear and weapons, more fitted for demolitions and explosives then Private Mitch "Mittens". Sol stayed quiet as Mittens argued with Marcus about what tougher meant to the team. The young man sat up slowly, recovering from the shock of the events of before, the ride calmer now as they neared base camp. "S-sir...I...I want to stay...if you'll give me one more chance, I promise I'll do better." The young man said looking to Sol worriedly. Sol made nos response until they stopped and the door opened. "...One more chance. If it doesn't work. I'm shipping you out of here." Sol said, the young man nodded and hastily got out, standing tall and straight beside Mittens as Marcus and Sol and the others got out. "Don't stand like you've got a stick up your ass." Mittens said to the young man in a sisterly way, gently hitting his stomach. "Oof, s-sorry." The young man said relaxing, placing a hand where Mittens had hit him. "It's alright Sam, c'mon. I'm buying lunch. Can't skip that, Sarge is gonna make us go hiking later." She said walking past Sam, the young private of only a few weeks. He nodded and followed her. "Um..w-why don't you guys wear helmets?" He asked adjusting his own. Mittens shrugged. "This unit you're in is hardcore Sammy, we ain't gonna need any helmets. We're what everyone calls the Corpse Unit. We're all pretty much walking corpses even if we're still alive." She said turning down, walking backwards so she could see Sam.

"I-I see...sh-should I take mine off?" Sam asked slipping a thumb under his helmet and lifting it slightly. "Go ahead." Mittens smiled and grinned. Her hair was short and cut in a way that more matched a man's then a woman's. Sam nodded and slipped his helmet off, his damp sand-blonde hair matted against his head. "Yeesh, even Marcus doesn't sweat that much. Did you piss yourself too?" Mittens asked as she stopped, raising an eyebrow and looking Sam over.

"No! Of course not, I...I was just scared, not piss-scared..."he said obviously blushing before turning away and placing his helmet on a table and doing the same with his M16. Putting the safety on, taking out the cartridge and ejecting the unspent round in it before placing them down neatly. "Right, so says the scared-shitless rookie." Mittens smirked before walking to an empty table and doing the same with her FN P90, though leaving the cartridge on it, simply turning on the safety. "You know, I hear we're getting a priest here in the unit. Heard he's good with a rifle. Cool huh?" She smiled and grinned at the thought, a badass priest in a badass unit? To her, it couldn't get much cooler then that. "R-really? I thought they didn't fight." Sam said surprised. He'd never heard of a priest fighting before. "Oh yeah, he is SO going to dispense some holy justice baby, whoo!" Mittens cheered, somehow, the ambush seemed to have been forgotten. Sam couldn't help but smile watching her, she seemed so energetic and young looking, but so tough that not even death or battles could stop her cheerful mood. It seemed surreal for the moment. Like the battle before had just been a dream or hallucination. "Unreal..." He whispered to himself shaking his head lightly.

Make a comic of this. This is something I'd read.

Though I have a suggestion: Try inserting somewhere what Henry Kissinger said of the soldiers. That they're just dumb animals to be used. :)