Current English story, a war story set in a fictional Earth. You are reading A* material .

 Corrupted

Prologue

For a minute, the world stopped as I sat and stared into the glass. The taste of gin and vermouth lingered on my lips, the only kiss I’d known in years. They call it a martini; I call it the elixir of quietude. The past three years of my life had been one long reimbursement trip. I may have committed a few crimes in my time, but I had paid back all my debts. I had scratched their back, but they had scarred mine

 After all that I had been through, the least I deserved was to be left alone. When the red letter came through my letterbox, I desperately wished it wasn’t true. I didn’t want to go back, but it wasn’t my choice. It was theirs, the very people involved in the biggest government conspiracy of all time. And I was the code that opened the safe.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

All I could see was hundreds of bodies sinking deep into the dark abyss. I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t feel anything. I was alone.

‘No.’, I thought, ‘got to fight back.’ With what little strength I had remaining, I forced my way to the ocean surface. I gasped a mouth full of glacial oxygen in an unnatural manner. Bullets were flying past me; one tore my uniform open on my right arm, allowing hostile water to seep in. Against my will, my body started swimming towards the Antonian pebble beach. It seemed the enemy knew we were coming, but still we forced our way to the shores. I took out my rifle from my backpack, removing the plastic coating. And then it all went quiet.

 

A large pile of sand rose up from the beach, just meters from me. Everywhere around me I saw soldiers who were lucky enough not to have been shot or blown apart. I recognised the Lieutenant crawling onto the beach unharmed. I tried to get up, but I was numb all over. Frozen in time and space. I watched as young men, no older than eighteen, gave up their term for a life in heaven. Or hell.

Once again I couldn’t feel anything. I was emotionless, cowering from the rain of fire behind an intimidating enemy tank trap. A bullet which zoomed out of nowhere, hit the sand right by my knee, woke me up. I ran as fast as I could towards the Lieutenant. Falling pathetically behind a tank trap, I yelled:

“What now, sir?!” A shell exploded right between us, blinding the soldier next to him.

“Move up the beach! We’ve gotta get out of here!” He shouted back. At the time, advancing forward seemed like the worst idea; we’d be an easy target. But, orders are orders. I ran as fast as I could, constantly thinking I was dead.

 

I collapsed by a large rock and took a good look at the enemies’ position. They had four bunkers on the top of looming rocky cliffs, impossible to climb. I saw one of our snipers trudging through the wet sand. He saw my position and dashed towards me. He had almost reached cover. BANG. Shot in the forehead. The first thing I could think of was to snatch his sniper from his motionless, cold hands. I stretched my arm forward and dragged the sniper rifle back towards me. I balanced it on a rock, aiming towards the sharp light of a machine gun. The Lieutenant and twelve other men each consecutively crashed beside me.

“We got eight MG forty twos in four bunkers, sir.” I panted.

“Alright soldier; take out that MG to the North East.” He pointed towards a few Aunties (that’s what we called the Antonians) firing inside bunkers I’d never handled a sniper before, all I learnt in training was how to aim sticks at teddy bears. The Lieutenant then ordered a soldier who had taken out the satchels from his bag to destroy the bunker to the North. It was at least 100 feet up in the air, but the number of satchels would at least fracture the cliff below the bunker.

 

Every second, more and more men were tumbling next to us, our forces strengthened; we had at least two hundred men within five minutes, all behind large boulders which the Antonians hadn’t thought of destroying, firing towards the Aunties. I balanced my sniper on an untouched mound of sand and aimed towards the sandbags. From what I recall, it was around two in the morning on a summer’s day. Still, vision was poor. I just managed to make out the silhouette of an Antonian machine gunner. I pulled the trigger.

“Click”. Empty. I hastily snatched a pouch of bullets from the sniper’s dead hands. I loaded the gun with the five bullets inside the pouch, not nearly enough for an amateur like me to snipe an enemy machine gunner with. I aimed towards the machine gunner. My hands were shaking. Not from nerves, but from the glacial climate. I held my breath to steady the sniper, closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.

“That’s one less Auntie to worry about!” I shouted, half of me joking. Suddenly, I heard the satchels blow up just metres away from the northern bunker. A massive explosion ensued, creating a massive whole in the cliff. The bunker no longer had its support and collapsed on itself, most of it plummeting down on us. Pieces of small debris showered down on us. This was the chance we needed to advance.

“Move forward!”

“Where to, sir?!” an alarmed private shouted back. The Lieutenant stared at him for a second.

“Anywhere but here!”

 

We headed forward to the dark, steep cliffs. It seemed that they were more than vertical. Luckily, a newly landed infantry unit prepared a few grappling hooks to latch onto the top of the cliff. One of them saw me holding the sniper.

“Hey, fire some rounds towards those Aunties at the top!” He started circling his arms in preparation to throw the hook.

“Oh, b-but I’ve only got…”

“Just do it, okay!?” The Antonians had started dropping grenades down the cliff, one landed right by my feet. Desperately, I threw it as hard as I could away from me, exploding seconds later. Once again, I steadied my sniper and fired three of my four remaining bullets, all destroying patches of rock in the cliff. By then, the infantry units had hurled their grappling hooks onto the cliffs. I got forced onto one and speedily climbed the splinter-embedding rope. My body was aching all over and I had no idea what was keeping me going. I think of it now as my survival nature kicking in.

 

I fought my way up the rope and dragged myself onto the cliff top. This was the heaviest amount of Antonian fire I had encountered in my life. The Aunties had prepared a trench system for about five hundred yards. I joined around twenty other soldiers who had battled their way up to this point. I chucked my sniper away and took out my bolt rifle.

“Okay, let’s move along the trenches about four hundred yards. We’ll hold of the Aunties ‘til reinforcements arrive. “On me!” Roared a sergeant. At least I thought he was a sergeant because he seemed to be “leading” us. We followed him through the endless trenches. Every corner we turned, Antonians jumped out at us. By the time we got to the rally point, we’d lost five men and six had been injured. That left me, the sergeant and nine other privates against at least one hundred Aunties within a hundred metres. No-one said anything. We were paralysed with fear. All we could do was hold onto our guns and pray. Every now and then an Antonian grenade landed by our feet. One of us would frantically throw it back at them. It was like this for about five minutes. But it felt like five hours. Finally, reinforcements arrived.

“Where the bloody hell have you been!?”

 

Now we outnumbered the Antonians three to one, but the battle wasn’t won yet.

On our newly arrived captain’s word, we went over the top. We weren’t met with the heavy fire we were expecting. They were retreating. We charged forward toward the rally point; the last I remember I was inches away from the profuse bushes when I heard the deafening screech. It was my fate, crashing down to earth in the form of a shell. This time, my luck had run out. I hadn’t gone deaf or numb like with my previous experiences of shell shock. Instead, everything went black. A just black.

 

 Chapter 2: A Brief Encounter with the Devil

 

I heard the faint sound of talking in the background. I felt like death. I ached all over. Light seeped into my bloodshot eyes, stinging like a scorpion poison. Slowly and consecutively, my senses slowly started to restart. I scanned my surroundings; I was imprisoned inside a small, rusty bronze room. The ceiling was partially exposed in the far corner. A minute window bore its walls, the only sign of hope leaked through it: light. Surprisingly, I still had clothes on: my dark grey uniform. But it had been severely ripped in numerous places exposing my skin to the rough walls. I tried to move, but they had chained me tightly to a lead pipe with iron shackles. The handcuffs had dug into my wrists, creating a mark that etched deep into my skin, a constant reminder of my restriction. A pungent smell crept up my nostrils, tormenting me. It was dead bodies. I thought the beach was hell; I was wrong.

 

I had heard stories of prisoners of wars who had “broke” in one of these hell holes. At the time, I was young, arrogant, and in my mind, courageous. Nothing could break me. I was confident that I could stand everything, from the most gruelling torture to the most horrific abuse. However, know do I realise my superciliousness youthful brain was a blockade between me and the truth: every man has his breaking point.

I heard footsteps approaching, echoing around the hall into my cell. I could hear a slightly eerie murmur in a foreign language. From what I could tell, there were three of them. The footsteps stopped right by the windowless, metal door. I heard a key enter the lock and slowly turn, clunking loudly. The door swung open releasing a wave of icy air into the room. Two tall, young men wearing camouflage uniforms entered and stood in to my left and right. They were armed with the latest bolt action rifle, fully loaded from what my training told me. Then a short, podgy man, his uniform and hat covered with medals, slowly shuffled his way in. His hazel eyes sank into his head deep like a skeleton. He stared straight at me.

“What do you want?” I asked pathetically, with a weak, dry voice. He started paced up and down the cell. He swung on his heel and replied:

“You know what we want!” He exclaimed boldly.

“I asked what you wanted.” I repeated in hope of a decent answer.

“I want you to die. Not just you, but every goddamn Agonian piece of scum living on this planet.” He bellowed. He knelt down in front of me. “You deserve to die. Before you invaded, Antonia was a rich place of diversity. I was a gallant General. Every time I looked out the window, I saw people thriving in every street corner.” He stared into nothing, a tear bore his eye. “But then you! You had to ruin these peoples’ lives! They had done nothing to offend you!” He clenched his fists so deep his nails engraved cuts on his palms, causing deep red blood to slowly ooze out. He gazed at his chubby right hand. “Now when I look out the window, I see bodies lying in the corners where man once prospered, buildings wrecked by the ignorant destruction of your people and a dark brown sky following our people as if it were a second shadow. And then I thank God that I still have a window.”

 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. I started laughing. He turned his head sharply towards me, his bushy brown moustache shaking in anger. His brown, puffy face quickly turned a dangerous bright red. “Do you find something amusing about death, and the massacre of innocent people!?” He boomed.

“No, no, no, General!” I calmed down. “Anyway, you done with this pity speech? I’m waiting to be killed here! Or do you try to fill every prisoner’s heart with guilt before they die?” I stood up, groaning in agony. He looked genuinely offended.

“You know what I see when I look out the window General?” I called out. He turned around sharply and stepped towards me. I pointed towards the window. Everyone foolishly looked where I was pointing.

“I see…” I grabbed the nearest guard’s rifle and shot both soldiers. I fired at the unarmed General but the shackles restrained my range. It was hard enough obtaining the gun tied strongly to a lead pipe, aiming and firing was just a question of pot luck. I knew I didn’t have long before the General returned with more men, so I hastily shot the chain connected to the lead pipe and ran out the cell. My training had taught me how to fire a weapon and engage in close combat with handcuffs on, but they had me in captivity for at least two days. My body was aching all over and I had no idea what was keeping me going. I think of it now as my survival nature kicking in.

The corridors were narrow and with multiple routes, so I decided to turn towards whichever way felt the coldest. The only part of my body I was in control of was my hands. For the best probably. The rest was on automatic pilot, guiding me through the corridors. I only had two bullets left, the bolt action rifle I stole only held five bullets, so finding ammo was essential before I could make a “professional” escape. I heard two Antonian officers chatting around the next corner. I quietly stood, my back to the wall, and peeked around the corner. There were two guards, wondering back and forward. They were drunk, holding to empty glasses and smashing them against each other every five seconds. It was hard enough to figure out what they were saying without their slurred speech, so I could only make out a few simple words, mostly insults. Two possible options formulated in my mind.

1. Sneak past them and take the right towards what looks like daylight.

2. Shoot them both. Take their ammo. Escape.

It appeared near impossible for me to sneak past them without being noticed, so the only feasible option in my mind was to take them out. Silently, I crept up the corridor holding my rifle high when –

“Ci è un’evasione del prigioniero!” a voice echoed down the corridor, accompanied with rapid footsteps. The guards immediately swivelled around, dropping their glasses. Before they could make a thought, with a swift motion, I struck them both harshly on their heads. They collapsed on the floor simultaneously. I hurriedly snatched their ammo pouches, placing them in my worn-down pocket after loading my rifle with three more bullets. There was no time to hide the bodies, so immediately I turned the chilly right corner to find two large glass doors. They seemed out of place, but I didn’t care to think a second longer, I had to get out. I battered my way through the doors, they squeaked open, but I assumed they would be locked. But then I realised where I was.

 

My mouth gaped as I absorbed the environment, green trees, pristine brick houses, long tarmac roads, zooming cars, prospering marketplaces and the most defining feature of all: the towering statue of our ultranationalist leader, watching the whole city. I was home. This is where I had signed up to join the army, only ten years ago. Instead I went through the most rigorous training exercise and became what the press called “supersoldiers”, unstoppable agents with expertise in every form of combat. All along I had been imprisoned in the heart and lungs of the entire operation: Capocittà, capital of Agonia. Decades ahead of the rest of the world, Capocittà was officially branded the city of prosper. Soaring skyscrapers dominated the horizon, millions of people flourished here; they were all being deceived by their corrupted government. This was where the war began; this was where it would end.

 

I ran onto the nearest road aiming my gun at an oncoming car. I didn’t have to say anything, the man inside got out immediately.

“Don’t shoot! J-just take my car and leave me alone!” he cried and ran off hastily. I started to get in the car when the building I had come out of caught my glance. It was the headquarters of the Defence Ministry. A smile of disbelief formed on my face as I shook my head in disgrace. My moment of solidarity was interrupted by bullets ricocheting off the car’s bonnet. The engine was left on so I slammed my foot on the pedal, causing the car to slowly accelerate forward. I looked in the rear view mirror to see several guards hijacking the first car they could find. I sped away, checking the signposts for the quickest way out of town. I had to try and lose them as fast as possible. Turning corners was dangerous as movement was limited because of my shackles. I could hear gunshots firing wildly behind me; they were close one guard was now ramming his car into mine while another shot out of the window. I swerved sharply to the right. I was heading straight toward the Grand Agonias Bridge. I slammed the brakes down and jumped out of the car, rolling as I landed. I weaved my way in and out of the traffic, all the while being shot at by several guards. There was only one option. Jump.

I leaped over the edge. The few seconds I fell to my gloomy fate, the only thing I could think it about was being back home, casually drinking a martini. Once again I was experiencing the unique feeling of inner peace. You could say I found enlightenment. This brief feeling of harmony was interrupted by my other side, the killer in me. All the people I had ever killed flashed before my eyes in an instant. I had been corrupted.