Soldier

War

Sesa slowly reached for his knife and covered his enemy's mouth, slitting his throat as silently as he could. The poor bastard died a horrid death, but he should've chose the good guy's side.
"Sentry down, move in." He says into his comm, unleashing a bullet from his MP5 into the skull of an unfortunate man who just so happened to be wearing his enemy's colors.

Stitches moved in from South, Jo-Jo from the north, and Sota from the west.

This day would be glorious...

"Alpha, take out the bird. Beta, sweep and sheet. All personnel are hot and wired, advise caution."
"Roger. Alpha out."
"Copy, Beta out."

Sesa cocks his rifle, an Ak-47. About three days ago, he took it from a tango when his own ran out.
He raised it slowly toward a guard tower, letting loose in a barrage of bullets, the signal for the others to move in.

The enemy yelled in Arabic,and ran out to confront them. This, however, was a tactical mistake for them because Jo-Jo had an RPG aimed at their building, Stitches a sniper aimed for their heads, and Sota with an air support marker they got from some friendly Arabs during a supply run by the Fly boys.

As soon as they noticed Sesa, they surrounded him.
He smirked and held his hand up in the shape of a finger gun. Some were confused until he said, "Bang."

Stitches saw this and fired a few rounds and blew off a couple of heads.
The enemy scattered, and then he fired away as Sota threw a handful of grenades tight into the oil barrels, making them explode into a fireball of death.

"Move, move, move!!" Sesa yells, sprinting through the gates and decking an enemy, telling him, "Stay down!"
Jo-Jo unleashed hell on the enemy with his flamethrower, laughing as he burned his enemies to a crisp.
Stitches continued to provide sniper fire, keeping his eyes on his team and his enemies.

"I'm going in!" Sota yells, running inside of the building. Inside, he fired round after round, clip after clip into the Isis dogs. He slammed himself against the door, popping his shoulder out of place.
"God damn it!!" He yells, standing back to ram it again. He stopped when he saw an RPG, smirking at the idea that went through his mind.
"Hell yeah." He says, picking it up and aiming it at the door. "Blow me, bitches!"

Just as he fired, an Isis soldier opened the door and tossed a grenade at him. His eyes went wide, and he didn't have room to dodge it. In that split second before the grenade went off, before that RPG hit the ammo reserve, his son and little girls' smiling face went through his mind.
"Akiko, Santosh-"

Outside, the building became a furnace, and what enemy was left had fled.
Sesa was being held back by the giant Cajun Jo-Jo, screaming in his native Japanese language for sota to "Be alright, you better be alive, you son of a bitch! You got kids, damn it!"
"Sesa! Enough." Stitches says, shoving him backwards, knocking sense back into him. "He's gone, Sir. He's gone..."
Sesa ran his hands through his hair, on the verge of tears.

His twin brother was gone...
They had done everything together.
All the blood...
All the sweat...
All the tears...

All of it had been destroyed in a single moment, severing the bond between them through life and death.

Sesa walks to the burning building, scooping his brothers burned and bloody dog tags out of the sand. He stared at it for a while, then closed his eyes and his fist around the tags.
"Sayōnara, Kyōdai... Watashi wa paradiasu de anata ni aimasu..." He prays, leaving one tag in the dirt where his brother had last stepped.

Sesa looked at his friends, who nodded. They didn't say anything.
No funeral arrangements.
No tears.
Not even a goodbye.

'In a world of war, those who fight alongside you are your brothers. When your brother dies, you mourn together, for you have lost one of your own family. There are never words to describe the burning hate of when someone takes a brother, for warriors never let their family die in vain. If they do, then they were never your brother in the first place, and that is called a Coward.'

Those words rang through the young warriors heads, mourning their fallen through blood and battle, love and hate, peace and war.
Never had hate filled their hearts like this.
Never had they wanted to kill so badly.
Never had anyone gotten away with hurting their family.

Now?
The dogs that call themselves Isis had just made it personal.