Against my better judgment, I'm going to ask the 64D's opinion on my novel, which is still in the works. It is based in the Battlefield 2142 universe, created by EA and Dice. If you've ever played the game, the book may have a bit more depth to you, but you shouldn't get lost otherwise.

A bit of a preface: the excerpt is the first page of the first chapter. The story is told in first person by a different member of my personal BF2142 clan called Bravo Seven, which the title of the book.

Any constructive criticism is greatly valued!

Bravo Seven

A gang of seven men are beating an elderly man, how do you react to the situation? The question was presented to me in a bus at Kassel, Germany by a man in his late forties with a witty smile. I cocked my head a bit and thought hard. I had never met this man in my life, nor would I ever again; but his question would ultimately eat away at my soul until my passing too many years later.

Suppose I was the hero, I tried to reason; at best, I could take one or two of them, but it would be a fight based on chance and circumstance. A gang of seven, armed or not, would be a quick death to me. I was not frail, but neither was I by any means muscular. I could hold my own in a one-on-one fight, but only for a short while.

Why would he ask me this? I sat in the bus in full European Union outfit, on my way to Fort Hassig, where I would fly out to Camp Gibralter, to begin my basic training. Boys like me came from all corners of Europe to fight in the war against the Pan Asian Coalition, but most of us were boys with dreams of glory rather than men ready to kill. That man's question was one of integrity. Deep down, I knew I would turn the other cheek and continue walking from the situation; it didn't involve me.

One year later, his question continued to burn in my heart as I forced my way through basic training. The EU's training was strenuous, but it was apparent that we were being campaigned onto the field as fodder rather than soldiers. We could charge locations, hold our line, fire a rifle, and even tourniquet a wound, but we weren't soldiers. It wasn't until my first official squad that I started my real training.

But even then, as I was driven to location in a Bandit Jeep, I found myself dwelling on that man's question. Why was I here? I had no friends or family left, I was orphaned by my folks at birth and any friends of mine growing up had all either joined the military or left for America, where the ensuing Ice Age enveloped them. My foster parents were both killed in a PAC bombing run over Dresden, and while their deaths were not taken well by me, I can't say they were the driving force to get me into the military.

I suppose it was fate. I wasn't particular towards the military, nor was I opposed. The Ice Age induced by mankind had begun to envelop the globe before I was born, leaving the world's population with dwindling resources. The need to survive fueled war between Russia and the rest of Europe. Our remaining monies were dumped into war, forcibly so as a defense. Even still, I found myself in uniform at the age of nineteen, with a gloomy set of ideas as per our future as humans and the fate of the planet.

Also, if anyone feels the need, I'm also looking for constructive criticism on my website. The link is in the forums :)