PROLOGUE

	Brandon McAcy was enjoying the last moment of tranquility he could maintain before arriving at Landing Zone November. He was finally going home. Four years in the service hadn't done him well, and as many times as he rode in the back of the modified Suburban that his squadron was so found of, he never got used to it. The stripped down chassis; the cold, blister-inducing metal seats were a neccesary sacrifice for the miuch-needed mobility of the vehicle. One couldn't afford to move slow in this region, especially on Route 7 of all places. The 3-mile stretch of dirt road, surrounded by trenches and pits in the desert, was notoriously unsafe for passing. However, it was the quickest method of transit towards the LZ that stood on the other side of the border. Only one more kilometer until the NATO checkpoint, where they would be under the protection of the strongest military force on the continent.
	Something didn't feel right. Nothing ever does, though. A bad feeling? Now, of all times? McAcy turned to the dashboard, noticing that the LED clock had struck 17:02 local time, and it felt as if it had frozen there. A shiny glimmer had caught the corner of his eye; something on the side of the road. It didn't take an EOD technician to recognize what was, more than likely, an improvised explosive device that had been planted on the route that was also, more than likely, intended for the American calvary making their way out of the region. The entire objective of his training was to prepare him to respond to insurgency threads such as this one, but, McAcy couldn't direct the driver to steer clear of the IED fast enough.

Chapter 1

Michelle was cleaning the kitchen of her apartment when she heard a distinctive knock on the door. It was around 6pm, and she wasn't expecting anyone for the next 3 days, when Brandon was supposed to return home from his deployment. Nevertheless, excitement coared through her body. Her boyfriend had a way of surprising her at the most unsuspecting of times. Throwing down her rag, she rushed towards the door, unlatching every bolt faster than she thought she could. Michelle swung the door open, and what she saw was indeed a surprise. Standing in the doorframe wasn't McAcy, but an unidentified male in vague military attire. Brandon had told her of what the procedure would be had he of perished overseas, and an Officer informing next-of-kin of the death fell into that same procedure. Tears came to her eyes, an involuntary bodily reaction to the thought of the man she loved no longer being alive. The Officer motioned for her to step out and follow him, with a grim and macabre look on his face- an embodiment of sorrow and remorse for a persons death that few can mistake for anything else. At this point, Michelle had full-on broken into a manic weep, tears running down her face and soaking the U.S. Army t-shirt that Brandon had bought her before he left for Afghanistan.
	The Officer led her through the breezeway of her apartment building, and up the stairs to the parking lot. There, waiting in the nearest parking space, was a running '04 Chevy Avalanche, black, not much unlike what Brandon had driven. Although, Michelle couldn't make this observation as she was near-blinded by the stream of liquid forming a mask over her eyes. The Officer directed her attention to the truck, and almost simultaneously, the engine cut, and the door opened. out stepped a man of formal stature, wearing standard Army-issue ACUs. The man closed the door, and walked purposefully towards the crying woman. A smirk rose to the otherwise serious face of the soldier, and as if he hadn't been gone a day, Brandon simply whispered, "Gotcha'." On top of being suprisingly spontaneous, and random, he was an insensitive asshole who liked fucking with people. Especially Michelle, because that's how he showed his affection. Half angered, and half filled with enjoyment, Michelle barked a "Fuck you!" and put her arms around the person she hadn't seen since he left 4 years ago.