Illsuion of War

Chapter One: Strength

I woke from my bed with a growl, shooting up from the blaring noises sounded off in my private bedroom. My body immediately and put all my clothing on. I slammed the metal door to my room shut as I left, heading out into the field. "Alright, Maggots!! Which one of you fuckers thought it would be a brilliant idea to pull a bullhorn into the awakening microphone!?" I shouted.  I looked across scared faces, until I came across two. "JACKSON! PILOT! STEP FORWARD!" I stared at two young males, about the age I started. "Yes, sir?" One spoke with sarcasm, his arms folded. "Do you think it's okay. To fucking use a bullhorn. TO WAKE UP YOUR TEAMMATES AND LEADER!?" I shouted, a vein nearly popping from my head. Pilot snickered as Jackson rolled his eyes. I quickly grabbed Jackson by the collar of his uniform, knocking him out and watching his limp body hit the floor.

I then turned to Pilot, grabbing him the same way. "The day you die, will be the day you regret everything," I punched him multiple times in the face before dropping him and spitting on him. After a moment, I looked at the other members of the squad I led. "THE REST OF YOU! GIVE ME FIFTY LAPS!" I barked at them. They saluted me and quickly ran off. "General!" I heard the leader of the Millitary shout. "What are you doing!?" I turned to him and picked up the two asswipes that decided to prank me. "Send the two to another squad, before they fucking die." I growled and threw their unconscious bodies at his two followers.  They nodded and quickly took the two to the infirmary ward.

"Thomas, you cannot keep doing this," The leader turned to me. I only kept a hard stare. "They refuse to listen, they refuse to learn. I refuse to teach." I turned my gaze to my team, watching them pant heavily as they ran. "I understand that. It is quite frustrating. But, you must remember. People were not like you when you were seventeen, Thomas." "I kept my focus. I became general in less than five years. I had nothing to go back to. But those termites do, sir." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I understand being an orphan was tough. That what happened to your parents was awful. But you cannot let your jealous and personal bloodlust cloud your eyes and most importantly, your judgment."

I clenched my fist in anger. "Yes, sir. I understand this perfectly clear. But if they refuse to do everything perfectly, they'll die. We don't need any more blood spilt." He sighed stressfully. "You are a good man, Goüdier, I know I can trust you. Soon, the British soldiers will make their way, and we must improve our faction." I gave a firm nod. "I will send those two to another group. A harsher one. Then, the next two troublemakers you get, you will have to deal with them on your own." I saluted him quickly. "Yes, Sir." He smirked at me, and I could see pride in his eyes. "You were always my favorite. Do not fail me." He turned and walked away. 

As night had begun to approach us quickly, all of our soldiers had started to go to bed. I stayed up, pacing in my bedroom. You have nothing to live for. Nothing to go back for. Your family is dead! No one loves you! I punched a wall in anger, feeling tears stream down my face. "I am the one they look up to," I hissed, staring at my bleeding knuckles. They don't need you! No one needs you! I argued with the voice in my head, keeping me down. The red will keep you safe. The knife will be your home. You will be safe there, Thomas.  Pick it up.. Pick it up...