• I take it most of you aren't really interested in my 26 years of life. Well you don't really have to, nobody did, not my parents, not my siblings, not my "friends", not even my goddamn girlfriend. That's why I joined the Army... Be someone or die trying.

    Everyone called me an idiot, a moron. Everyone told me I was throwing away my life, but it was my life and nobody gave a damn anyway. But was trading away my life to be brainwashed and outfitted with a rifle, camo helmet and kevlar vest worth it? Could I justify becoming a heartless killer?

    I'm no one to tell, I'm the killer, I'm the Grim Reaper in a ghillie suit. My .50 cal Barrett rifle was my scythe, my uniform my obscure robe and my camo ski mask is my new emotionless face. And the man whose soul was mine to take and rip off the face of the earth: Cpt. Viacheslav Krylov.

    I have been sitting atop a hill for about 29 hours, and I will enjoy killing this man, he has made me wait an infernal amount of time that nobody has ever made me wait. I have been scoping the landscape for a long time and found no better place to take the shot than from here. I had a clear Line of Sight to the road which Krylov would be passing in a couple of minutes. I have already preset my scope estimating the distance to the roac to be somewhere within two miles... uhm... 1479 meters to be exact. All that was left was gravity and the Coriolis effect, and maybe, on how moody the wind gets.

    Command had the brilliant idea of saving a few rounds by sending those deemed as expendable to create instant pandemonium. It seems like the only one expendable enough to save command a few rounds was me. But I prefer to see it as: I'm the only one with the skill in my entire Battallion of inneficient cannon fodder to actually make this shot, whatever, I don't have enough self-esteem to actually say that.

    The dull fog was pretty relaxing, it was also one of the only things that kept me from losing my mind early in the mornings, that and my Ipod, one can never have too much metal and punk. I was so bored that I started counting the blades of grass next to my right elbow, my elbow had been dug in for so long that there was a circle of dirt where my elbow used to be, so whenever I got up to take a leak or do that thing guys do... I'd know how I was set up.

    Well, he's finally here, I mean, 30 hours of waiting and he's finally here I'd get up and throw a f-----g party, but hey, I have to remain stealthy. I took the cover off my preset scope and I loaded up my .50 rifle with one of it's huge ammo magazines, I couldn't wait to bore a hole into the head of the filthy b*****d that made me wait one day and 6 hours to kill him. I looked through the scope and made some final adjustments. As I looked at through the scope, I realized he was just a kid, somewhat younger than me and already a captain.

    I was about to kill some young kid that was sent to be killed by old fat men in fancily tailored suits. If I had a heart I would stop myself, but my career is on the line and so is the respect from my crappy outfit. I have to take this shot and make my name clear to those who laugh in my face. A decision has been made and I have no option but to follow it. I will kill this kid or be sent back home and watch from the sidelines as everyone succeeds at everything and yet I have another failure to add to my never ending collection of failures. Failure as a man, failure as a friend, failure as a son, failure as brother, failure as a boyfriend. This time out here gave me some time to think that everyone else is justified, but not me. I couldn't expect more when I forget my girls anniversary, when I told my friends to f--k off, when I told my father he was useless, when I told my siblings to forget their dreams.

    But I am no man anymore, and I guess it is time to finish the transformation from man into coldblooded muderer. I tightly gripped the rifle and unfolded the bipod, then I kept looking through the scope. I checked wind speed and direction, and I relaxed and I let my muscles loosen up. Once my heart rate was down, I aimed the black and terrifying crosshair where Krylov's head was going to be, his head woul simply run into my bullet. I held my breath to stop involuntary twitching and and I started to count in between heart beats. 1...2...3...4...5...6, and I squeezed the soft trigger, the soft recoil shook my body and the bullet traveled at mach speed towards the head of the young man, I knew exacty how his head would burst apart, but I had to see it happening.

    As the bullet hit the head, it burst apart into chunks, covering everyone next to him with blood and brain matter, I was sorry I had done it, but there was no going back. Just getting up and running for the hills, or at least behind the hills. I took up my M4 Carbine with suppressor and crawled out of view as screams in Russian perforated the once quiet valley. AK-47 gunfire roared in the distance it started hitting where I used to be. I could hear the screams of pain from the poor Captain's friends as they knelt by his dismembered body.

    I managed to slip away, but to the light of this day, I still wonder if I have done the right thing. Most would argue that I didn't. And in some way I'd have to agree with them, but a decision was taken and I was nothing but a puppet. I used to be half a man when I entered the Army, I was hoping to become a full man... But now, I don't know what I am...