It was a month later and Alpha Two Zero has been relocated to FOB Hotel, or 'Holiday Inn the desert' as it was jokingly referred to by those on the base.

As the soldiers were tucking into their tomato and pasta meal the Colonel of the base, a middle aged woman with a curly chestnut pixie cut, called Colonel Aileen, ordered the two commando units, Alpha Two Zero and the simultaneously station Bravo Five Six, into the rec room for a debrief.

The two units polished off their meals before entering the rec room where Captain Riley and another Captain, presumably the Captain of the Bravo Five Six unit, were finalising details on a map they'd projected onto the wall.

Colonel Aileen walked into the room, arms swinging as if marching. The two Captain's back straightened in her presence before she turned to the crowd stood around the map.

"Intel has confirmed that Al-Assad's troops are forcing local villagers to farm opium poppies, making a large profit on the black market to make up for that gold they lost. Tonight at 02200 you're to go to the poppy fields and call in an airstrike on the fields to destroy them," Colonel Aileen explained.

The Colonel then began to explain the finer details of the mission, before ordering both teams to do a full kit check before the mission to make sure everything was in working order.

Soon enough Alpha Two Zero and Bravo Fix Six found the doors to the base opening and the teams stepped outside, under the cover of darkness they moved with quick stealth.

Soon enough they reached the opium poppy fields that seemed to stretch on endlessly, it was far bigger than any of them had expected. Just as Captain Riley was about to confirm the field's coordinates over the comms system a shot cracked out, and immediately a commando crumpled to the floor with a pained cry whilst another dropped silent, dead.

"Richard and Nelly are down,".

"Nelly is dead, Rich stay down,".

Seeing his fellow commando fall down after taking a bullet Pheasant instantly tried to help them, lunging out towards them when he felt a hand tightened around his boot, "leave him, you'll just get yourself shot or worse," another commando said, begrudgingly Pheasant hit the dirt and tried to nail the bastard who shot his brother in arms, deafening out the injured commandos pained moans and screams for the sake of Pheasant's own sanity.

He couldn't help him, there's was nothing he could do and it was killing him. To be so utterly helpless and powerless was the worst feeling in the world, second to the feeling of warmth as the blood pool enveloped him and coagulated around him.

All the teams could do was lay themselves flat against the ground, having no cover on this flat terrain, as Heaven leopard crawled over to the still breathing commando she'd seen collapse, she saw a bullet had gone all the way through his calf.

Her training kicked in, she assessed the woman before disinfecting it, applying pressure as she tied a bandage around it, before she called in for a medevac (medical evacuation) helicopter.

Meanwhile who had clear shots fired back, all the while CAS was in Riley's ear trying to confirm the coordinates as they exchanged fire.

After Smith shot one in the face the enemy gunfire stopped, Riley raised a fist as a symbol to hold their ground and stay still, before both Captains got to his feet and slowly scanned the fields, he approached the enemies to find their bodies, lifeless and bleeding.

"Clear," Riley and the other Captain called out simultaneously, the teams got to their feet, dirt sticking to their knees.

The Captain returned to where Heaven was tending to the wound, he squatted before his injured subordinate and patted the side of his face, "hey lad you're in good hands. You've got this," he said as he wore an encouraging expression.

"I've called in a medevac, they're five minutes out now. What's the status on the airstrike?" she asked.

"Riley still needs to confirm the coordinates. Medevac first, airstrike later."

Heaven nodded before Bravo Five Six Captain approached Riley, "we need to get everyone away from these fields when the airstrike comes."

The medevac helicopter arrived swiftly after they'd moved to a safe distance from the poppy fields, loading up the two commandos inside of it before taking flight, zipping Nelly into a black body bag.

"Airspace is clear, send in the airstrike," Riley said over the comms, CAS acknowledged before the plane moved into position overhead, dropping firebombs onto the fields.

"You know the locals are gonna hate us for this. We killed the one reason Al-Asda's forces were keeping them alive," Wilson stated.

"We do what we're told. Just don't think about it too much," Heaven answered, "besides we'll protect them, because soldiers protect those who need protecting. We're only hurting the bad guys with this tactic."

Wilson nodded, not quite convinced but definitely more at ease, "I guess so," he shrugged.

With the mission complete the two units went back home, returning to base before crashing out into their beds. Each of them knew the bullet could've just as easily of found them, and fatally so. But this was why they fought-to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. They had honour and pride, and not many could truly say they had that.

But there was no loyalty like those between the men in the foxholes or the trenches or any other place to stage a battle. The loyalty that they would fight and kill for. There was no loyalty like military loyalty.

Pheasant still couldn't find the words to express what he felt. He felt as dead inside as they were on the outside. But while they laid on mortician slabs he was still breathing, somehow.

How was any of this fair?

Still he survived, it was all he knew at this point. Put on a brave face and survive. His only objective-make it out alive.

The next morning at the base was eating breakfast of sausages with hash browns and beans. Not quite full English, rather a smidge of English. But it was good enough, especially by military food standards.

Pheasant noticed Ghoul was picking at his meal of vegetarian sausages and hash browns, not eating, stabbing at it with his fork before letting it slump back onto the plate. Meanwhile a top his shoulders his head lulled like a newborn.

"Not hungry?" Pheasant asked.

"Nah," Ghoul answered, running a dark hand along his face that knocked against his sunglasses.

His voice was raspy, a husky croak. Pheasant noticed it right away, the low throat voice that came from doing opiates and opioids-he remembered that voice when he raided his grandfather's medicine cabinet and found old oxycodone for when he had cancer. He also remembered it putting him off of eating.

"Take your sunglasses off at least," Pheasant suggested, knowing that if Ghoul's deep brown eyes had pupils like pinpoints that he would be high. He just needed to see them.

"But they look cool," Ghoul protested.

"We're in the shade, you don't need them," Pheasant retorted.

"I do though," Ghoul whined.

"Why?" Pheasant asked.

"Because they make me look rad," Ghoul explained

"Make you look a twat more like," Pheasant quipped.

"You just don't understand, too bad you'll never be rad."

"He's got you there," Roach interjected.

"What do you mean? I'm rad," Pheasant argued.

"Radically unrad," Roach quipped.

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful," Pheasant retorted, earning a laugh from Roach.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Roach said, his voice almost teasing.

Soon Ghoul made an excuse to get up, Pheasant followed after him and cornered him in a quiet corner of the base.

"Ghoul, I know."

"Know what?".

"You're high."

"What?".

"Don't play dumb. Nodding off, not eating, that low raspy voice, and let me check," Pheasant said before swiftly taking off his sunglasses, "and just as I thought, tiny pupils."

"Look alright I made a mistake, it won't happen again. Just don't tell Riley."

"What you're doing is stupid. Incase you haven't noticed we're in a war zone where we need to stay sharp. Being high compromises security, puts the entire team at risk, you included. You could get killed because you were too high to react to a threat, you could be nodding too hard and pull your trigger and accidentally shoot one of us. This goes no further. If I catch you again I will report your arse so fast it'll make your head spin."

"So...you won't tell them?".

"For now. You really let me down Ghoul. You let yourself down."

Thankfully the opium wore off as the Alpha Two Zero were gearing up for their patrol of the village, a village that was larger than the previous one, and slightly less shabby despite the sand eroding the cheap whitewash paint.

As they walked through the village they caught sight of two children playing football, Riley's head swivelled round to face Cermac, "you support Man U right? Show 'em how it's done."

Cermac nodded, he approached the children and quickly began playing football with them, soon the Berry supporting Heaven and Leeds supporting Briggs got involved in the game, growing increasingly violent with the children tackling into them and slide tackling the ball into the goals. 

"Alpha Two Zero what's your status?" a voice came over the comms.

"Playing football with some kids," Riley answered.

"Keep on your guard, out."

Soon the kid's were called back inside their houses for their lunches, which was the exact moment the team noticed their rumbling bellies. They finished up their patrol and hurried back to base for scran.

They had a welcome surprise, the post had arrived a day early. Pheasant was glad to see his mother had sent another letter-both had accepted they didn't see eye to eye, but the love would always be there no matter what. Which was good enough for them. They'd been corresponding consistently for a month now.

Taking his letter back to his quarters he began to read it, noticing a CD falling out from it-the best hits of The Village People.

Dear Pheasant

I attached that The Village People CD for the boogie night you told me about, I hope it arrives in time. Have you settled into your new base yet? I hope you're having a good time, you're so brave for doing what you do. I'm proud to call you my son. The neighbour's always ask me how you're doing when we happen to see each other. I can't wait for your safe return, only two months away now!

Me and Marlene have been missing you, we'll be over the moon when you return. I can't wait to hug you, I'll cook your favourite meal when you come home. Give Roach my love too.

Love
Mum

Pheasant smiled as he read the letter, he filed it away before heading out into the rec room to see Roach was playing against another soldier, presumably absolutely annihilating them.

"Whatcha playing?" Pheasant asked as he perched himself on the edge of the sofa's armrest.

"Wii sports boxing," Roach said, his eyes not moving from the screen.

"Isn't the wii a bit shit?" Pheasant remarked.

"Aye, but this shite's all we've fucking got," the other soldier answered, his Glaswegian accent definitely making his heart flutter ever so slightly as it reminded him of Soap's delicious abs and delectable mohawk.

Before he knew it Pheasant found himself ogling the intriguing specimen. This soldier, a member of the Coldstream guards by the insignia on his sleeve, had his dark brown styled into a messy quiff and the sides close shaved, his well groomed hair and plucked, shapely eyebrows made him wonder if perhaps he was gay as well? He'd hadn't had sex for around half a year now, and at this point he would take whatever he could get.

"Fuck it, take over from me," the Glaswegian snapped after Roach defeated him, shoving his controller into Pheasant's palms, "this numpty can get ta fuck," he hissed before wandering off.

Suddenly an idea sprang to mind.

He shoved the black controller into his crotch, holding to erect as he squeezed it with his thighs, "hey Roach look, I have a big black cock," he teased.

Roach looked down and rolled his eyes as Pheasant giggled.

Then they played. Pheasant was utterly dominated. When he quit out of frustration another took his place, same story. When another volunteered they lost to Roach's godly master of the console.

When Roach had defeated everyone in the rec room the proclaimed, "I beat all of you cunts, bow down bitch,". The burst of exuberance and confidence was rare for Roach, and it warmed Pheasant's heart to see Roach flourish and not hide away in his little shell. He was growing stronger, braver, bolder.

Still though all Pheasant wanted to say was 'it would be more impressive if you beat them all off instead', but he held his tongue.

After congratulating his best mate Pheasant headed outside, into the scorching heat of a sun that seemed relentlessly trying to burn them all alive. He happened to pass by an oddity-Arsène Wenger's face printed out and stick onto a punch bag.

It piped his curiosity, and as he approached a young man who's skin gleamed with sweat eyed him from a corner, panting heavily and with a towel slung over his burly shoulder, "wanna have a knock about?" the young man asked.

Pheasant nodded and the man threw some fabric to wrap his hands up in, , and after he done that the man threw him the ten ounce gloves.

As Pheasant shoved his hands into the holes in the gloves he couldn't help but remark, "I'm good at fitting into tight holes," he said with a cheeky wink, before he poised his body for boxing, eyeing Wenger.

"I gotta ask," Pheasant began, dropping his raised arms to his sides as he eyed the young man, "why's Arsenal's manager stuck on here?".

"A unit's Rupert that deployed to this base was obsessed with two things, boxing and football. Big boxing fan, even bigger Manchester United fan. She stuck 'arse and wanker', as she would call him, up there," he elaborated, earning a mildly amused chuckle from Pheasant before the commando began to work out with the punch bag.

Pheasant felt the adrenaline rush come on. Soon he wasn't just simply hitting a piece of boxing equipment over and over but rather he was finding beauty through pain. Every drop of sweat was weakness leaving his body, all of his emotions were purged as he expelled them out of his body in shockwaves that rocked the punch bag. In the dull, aching throb of his burning muscles he found catharsis. He pushed through the pain and continued to fight, dodging and ducking now as with every punch came a grunt.

But he pushed through. For Kevin, for Nelly, for Richard. For all the kids that bullied him at school for sounding posh, for being gay, for being too black for the whites and too white for the blacks. For everything little thing that ever happened to him.

Soon he had gathered a small crowd, among the faces were some familiar ones. Harrow, Wilson, Roach and the Coldstream guard from earlier.

As Pheasant took a moment to catch his breath, moping at the sweat on his brow, a member of the royal armoured corps stepped forward, "I wanna spar with you," he announced, a breathless Pheasant merely nodded and the young man from before tossed them some fabric wrap and gloves.

"Gimme ten," Pheasant sighed as he collapsed onto the floor, closing his eyes and sucking down greedy mouthfuls of hot, arid air. Meanwhile the royal armoured corps member was practicing landing brutal punches on the punch bag.

Soon Pheasant had recovered and the two military man began to spar, after a brief yet intense five minute fight the armoured corps member was sent reeling backward, blood pouring from their nose as they moaned in pain. One of the soldiers counted down from ten, and when the armoured corps member didn't get up they declared Pheasant the winner.

"Fucking bite it," the commando yelled through gritted teeth, throwing his gloved fists up in the air, "I say we start a fight club, right here right now-who's with me?" he demanded as one soldier stuffed tissue up the bloody nose and helped the defeated soldier to sit up.

"Pheasant, your eyes," Roach remarked.

"What about them?" Pheasant almost snapped.

"They're...black," Roach said in a whisper so quiet it was barley audible.

"It's the adrenaline, I'm high as fuck on it," Pheasant smirked, lips tugging upwards in a display of pride.

"Get him to the medic station,"'one off the soldiers said, two let the injured soldier lean on them as they led him away. The crowd began to disperse, a mixture of awe and disgust rife within them.

"Oh boo hoo a fight got a little gorey, can't have morals in a depraved world-fuck 'em all I say. Fucking pearl clutching pussies," Pheasant erupted as he launched a few left and right hooks at the punch bag, as he stripped off the gloves and fabric another soldier approached him.

When he came into Pheasant's vision he noticed the soldier immediately as the Glaswegian Coldstream guard Roach had beaten earlier.

"Saw your fight."

"Oh yeah? And what of it."

"I like a man who knows how to...dominate."

"Oh is that so? I like a man who knows how to beat someone into submission."

Soon they were rushing to Pheasant's quarters: lips locked, tongues battling, hands exploring and bodies growing more aroused by the second. Both men could feel the harness within one another's boxers which were soon slipped off, moans ushering from their lips as kisses hit a sweet spot of nerve endings.

"I never got your name."

"Why does it matter?".

"So I'll know what to call out."

Pheasant smirked, "you can call me Pheasant if I get to call you Soap."