Pheasant's eyes adjusted to the early morning light as he woke up. He felt a presence besides him.

Oh right, the soldier he'd hooked up with last night.

He gave them a sharp kick to the back of their knee, jolting them awake with a pained yelp.

"Get the fuck out," Pheasant hissed with a blood chilling coldness to his voice, a sharp contrast to his usual bold flamboyancy. He had to become cold to protect the last remaining traces of warmth, the warmth that, like a vampire, the war had sucked him dry of. Nobody could be allowed to touch his heart.

"I wasn't expecting a good morning kiss and home made breakfast but I sure expected nicer than that," the soldier grumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed, picking up his clothes that they'd thrown on the floor in the throes of passion.

"You watched me break a bloke's nose, what else could you of expected?" Pheasant remarked.

The soldier held Pheasant's gaze for a moment, a kind of acceptance washing over them.

"Fair enough," the soldier shrugged, breaking eye contact to lace up his boots, "I'll be stationed here for the next five months if you ever wanna hook up again."

"I doubt it."

The soldier left with a humph, leaving Pheasant alone. All the commando felt was frustration, a gnawing feeling boiling away inside of him. Frustration at the futility of it all. So much waste of life, a war that demanded everything of them-even the ultimate sacrifice. And for what?

He could've help but wonder, if he could turn back time, would he do it all again?

He had no answer. All he knew is they were all pawns in a much large game.

But still he would fight, for the sake of his team.

He picked up his clothes from off the floor, as he stood in his boxers ironing the wrinkles out he heard of the sound of a knock on his door.

"One second," Pheasant called out as he tugged our the freshly ironed combat trousers that were still warm from the heat of the iron, he opened the door to a familiar face.

Riley.

And he looked disappointed beyond disappointment.

"That was some stunt you pulled yesterday," he huffed in disapproval, eyes narrowing as he spat out his next words with critical frustration, "they had to ship that guy back home. The fuck is wrong with you?".

"It was boxing, things got heated-".

"No, things didn't. You did," Riley hissed, "you lost control and that poor bastard payed the price for your lack of discipline. As a soldier you're supposed to have control and discipline and yesterday you didn't just let me or yourself down but all of us."

"Pull your act together son or I swear to God they'll be Hell to pay," Riley stated through gritted teeth, his knuckles whitening in barley controlled raged before walking off, leaving Pheasant to return to his desk to write his letter, full of disheartened emotion.

Dear mum,

I miss simpler times. When there was good guys and bad guys. How did everything get so complicated? Now it's not black and white but all shades of grey. It's been a long tour and I'm definitely ready to come home but I'm scared my mind will never leave the battle field. I done something stupid yesterday, I let things get the better of me. I should've just kept my cool under pressure like a soldier should but I snapped. From now on I'm going to make sure history never repeats itself. I have to be the best soldier I can be. Nothing will stand in my way.

Love
Pheasant

Finishing up his letter, and gearing up for the morning patrol, Pheasant noticed Ghoul was talking to one of the Urzikistan interpreters in hushed voices. Pheasant trusted his gut feeling-Ghoul was getting more opium.

As Alpha Two Zero gathered around the base doors, ready to leave Roach noticed Pheasant shooting him a look he couldn't quite decipher.

"What?" Roach asked.

"Remember in training when everyone called you a short arse?" Pheasant said, barley containing his laughter as Roach rolled his eyes.

"I do, unfortunately," Roach answered, I'm five three and proud.

"With all they gear on you're a bulky short arse," Pheasant teased, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight.

"Took you awhile to work on that joke. What's it been, over a year since we first met in basic," Roach retorted as the base doors rolled open.

"Better late than never," Pheasant remarked.

"Eyes on," the domineering authority figure that was Smith snapped in a harsh tone as all the commandos faced forward, rifles at the ready as they scanned their terrain, pushing toward down the sandy trail.

They had no sign of enemy contact as they patrolled through the village, seeing only washing hanging from the lines and children playing football.

They returned back from a fortunately uneventful patrol, Pheasant put his letter inside an envelope and sent it for delivery back home on his way to grabbing lunch, sitting down with the rest of the soldiers.

As he eyed Ghoul he began to notice the signs of an opium high on him once again. A quiet, raspy whisper. Pinpoint pupils. An itchy face and body he was scratching sore. Food he disgustedly picked at, unable to eat due to lack of appetite. Slow, sluggish movements.

Both men finished their lunches early and Pheasant led Ghoul into the empty rec room.

"You did it again," was all Pheasant said.

Ghoul's head dropped in shame, "don't you think I know that?".

Pheasant took a seat on the sofa, gesturing for Ghoul to sit across from him.

"My aunt was a heroin addict, so was a few of my mates, I could spot that you were high from a mile away," Pheasant explained, dribble leaned down Ghoul's plump, chapped bottom lip as he blinked slowly, struggling to stay awake, "Jesus Christ just bloody look at you, you're a mess."

"I could say the same about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?".

"Breaking a guy's nose over nothing. You took it way too far, that's pretty fucked up."

Pheasant sighed, "I know that. But I won't do it again. You on the other hand, this is the second time I've caught you."

"I promise you this is the last time-".

"Bollocks, they all say that."

"Well it's the truth."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"I just needed to take the edge off. We've lost so many, I didn't know what I was signing up for."

"So you're just gonna abandon your team and become a junkie?".

"I didn't say that. I said I needed something to take the edge off. Don't act like lying in a pool of Nelly's blood didn't freak you out enough to make you lash out at that soldier."

"You have a point. But let's not change the subject-".

"I'm not. I'm just saying we're not as different as you think we are. We're both trying to run from all the shit hand we've been dealt."

"I'm not a druggie, not anymore. I'm not compromising the team-".

"Oh that's rich, breaking that guy's nose means they're a man down for awhile. You could've been reported and sent home too, you're just lucky none of that happened."

Then Ghoul continued, "at least I'm smart about it. I only took it during downtime when we weren't on duty. I didn't jeopardise anything."

"I guess you're right....so, what now?".

"I can get high off duty and you can break all the noses you want. We're both dead man so what does it matter?".

In that moment Pheasant wasn't just bonded by comradeship but by a darkness, an acute pain that let them seek comfort in one another. Similar to how Pheasant saw the lust ignite in his one night stand's eyes when he broke the soldier's nose. It was raw and primal. An animal instinct.

They might be sinking into a pit of darkness that threatened to swallow them whole, but they were sinking together even as they fought futilely.

How was any of this fair?