War is a nasty place.

The life of a martyr, a constant lure and worthless existence. Each of you is one of many and those whose luck eventually deserts will be exchanged for someone else.

But even in war, the martyr sometimes feels like God, holding the lives of others in his hands, deciding who dies and who doesn't. You decide whether to shoot and when you hesitate, the other side does.

Nobody said pulling the trigger was easy, not when on the other side of the gun is a beating heart, a soul like any other, yet so different.

Simon had fired too many bullets from the barrel of a gun to care who they hit but he still remembers his first shot. The first blood shed, the light of life fading.

And he can honestly say that he did not feel like God at that time.

Simon sits in the back of the military vehicle, his intense eyes focused only on you. He takes in your fear, your revulsion, all your emotions.

Your first shot and you don't seem to be taking it well.

"Holding up, recruit?" he finally asked, his shoulder gently touching yours, a gesture of comfort but without overwhelming tenderness.

Simon isn't the best at comforting people or talking about feelings. But you're a member of his team now and he knows exactly what you're going through.

He won't let you fall apart. Not when he's spent months watching you build yourself up piece by piece into the soldier you are today.