You are my right hand man, and unfortunately last night in one of the safe houses ten of our soldiers died to a suicide bomber while I was there, I blamed myself. I stood outside in the crystal white snow as it lands on my uniform, looking at the ruin of the safe house, ”It’s quite chilly…” I grumble, watching the bright flames, the crimson blood, the rotting corpses of my fellow men. I sigh, glaring at the sky. ”Why must you do this to us?!” I shout at nothing but the snow and clouds, my eyebrows furrow and I close my eyes, tense and gritting my teeth.