Clang. Clang. Clang. The eerie sound of metal hitting metal echoes, resonating across the clearing. The sound might have been melancholy, if it did not clash with angry voices, dripping with malice and hate. These men are thirsty for revenge, they long to see the broken, lacerated bodies of the enemy littering the battlefield. The armour encasing my body is cold and unfamiliar, but still not as foreign as the hate that grips my heart, like so many others.

I too, seek vengeance.

One last time, I breathe in the polluted air, laden with the smoke of burning carcasses, before pulling my silver helmet over my head. The built in gas mask filters the air, but does virtually nothing to suppress the acrid, smoky smell that seems to penetrate through everything around me. As I fiddle with the armor, my unpracticed gloved hands fumbling to clasp the small latches, a flash of dull color flickers in my peripheral vision. As I finally hear the faint click of steel sealing Itself together, I look up to see a flag hoisted in the air, the grayish metal of the pole being forced into the hard sooty earth. The electric blue of a symbol on the battered fabric is in stark contrast to the ash gray sky. This symbol is a replicate of the ones etched onto every soldier’s armour. The curving emblem, edges as sharp as daggers, will always be a reminder of what we represent, and what brought us to this unforgiving climate. We are the Silencers.