20200912 --- Uncharted regions of Indonesia...
'In this world, everything is just out to get you. I've been bored for so long that this whole ordeal is just annoying...'
"Hey." an annoyed tone came from this voice.
'Oh come on, I was just about to keep complaining to my-' A swift kick at the chair he was sitting on flies from under himself as he meets the lovely asphalt on the way down.
"Guy, I swear if I catch you sleeping again during the day, I will write you up." A very annoyed Staff Sergeant stated at the now dumbfounded Specialist
"But Sergeant, I finished all my tasks. Also, isn't there an army regulation where we can sleep if no events occur?"
At that comment, he'd feel a nerf dart connect to the center of his forehead. "Shut it. They need you over at the MSM to grab some equipment. Now move it."
After dusting off his pants, he gives off the two-finger salute to the Staff Sergeant and promptly moves with a sense of purpose towards the MSM.
After a bit of a walk on the airfield, the Specialist finds the MSM and a few of his buddies.
"Took you long enough, guy. You were sleeping on top of a box again, weren't ya?" Specialist Styles would say while having a smug expression.
"To be fair, I was on a chair, and then Sergeant Mills decided to give me a wake-up call by kicking my chair!" The Specialist would state in an innocent tone.
"Sounds like a you problem." Private Smith stated
"Shut it." Both Specialists said in unison.
After a bit of silence, everyone laughs it off and gets to work moving equipment from A-B through C and back to B because Sergeants have a hard time communicating with each other where they want shit placed.
All three enlisted decided to take a break when they finished the tasks. They talk shit about their Sergeants until an explosion could be heard from a distance.
"Must be the arty crews going at it again. They sure love to show off." Styles would say as he leaned back, smoking his E-cig.
'A few moments after the explosions started to creep closer, until the MSM we spent all day unpacking and repacking explodes from an RPG, sending all three of us flying from our proximity to it. Styles being in the passenger seat explodes into a burst of flames and blood that splatter just as far as the explosion itself. Smith was getting a piece of a hub to slice his body in half, and myself soaring through the sky half-burnt because I thought it was a grand fucking idea to sleep on top of the MSM again.'
The living Specialist crashes against the ground, breaking a few ribs on impact; he attempts to get up only to look at the base in front of himself engulfed in gunfire and explosions.
'Man fuck this shit... I swear if reincarnation doesn't exist, I'm gonna be pissed...'
At that moment, the Specialist dies from a secondary explosion turning everything black to his perspective.