World War 8 was a short war, lasting only several months.

 

The relative state of the world was quite simple, no Superhumans, THINGS, or Food People.

 

It was the last glimpse of a recognizable world.

 

But as is tradition, humanity prepared for war.

 

All the countries were at an arms race, small skirmishes were already being reported, which appeared like plague across the lands.

 

The country of Kanto was one such militant state, whom offered fortune and fame to those who joined their ranks. 

 

A young J. Bottle and Beer Beard joined their cause.

 

They were no older than young adults, barely above 18, yet their dynamic personalities and sarcastic humor led them to quickly become friends.

 

Their Company was called the Mustang Sixteen, which comprised mostly of several hundred fresh recruits and some senior officers. 

 

It was a defensive unit, never intended to do more than slow or hinder the enemy during their raids/attacks until reinforcements arrived.

 

Their roaster rotated frequently, due to the high casualty. 

 

Many times they would spend days in trenches without armored or air support, in which they would bleed like rivers. 

 

Beer Beard proved to be an excellent soldier, having grown up in harsh environments, he quickly picked up where his comrades slacked.

 

He would often collect and use several machine guns, acquiring a habit of using excess amounts of force.

 

To Beer Beard, Bottle was an odd case, or rather Bottle never followed orders.

 

Oftentimes, getting both Bottle and Beer Beard reprimanded.

 

For example, one of their trench lines was charged at by the enemy, resulting in close quarter combat.

 

When another unit of the Mustang Sixteen came to support that trench line, they saw Bottle running towards them, as a thunderous explosion rang from behind. 

 

Though questionable, most of Bottle’s behavior was not reported higher than the Mustang Officers. 

 

Reasoning that the casualties were acceptable as Mustang sixteen were considered expendable.

 

Besides, Bottle did… somewhat…  follow orders per say, though the outcomes were…undesirable.

 

But even with all those flaws, Bottle and Beer Beard rose through the ranks of the Mustang Sixteen and were soon appointed to lead their own squad.

 

Their doctrine differed heavily and so did their friendship.

 

Beer Beard would waste a lot of resources, and would use an intolerable amount of fire, his men would often loot all the wargear such as ammunition and bombs to empower their own.

 

Bottle’s squad had a huge degree of freedom, or rather they lacked any kind of command structure. 

 

They would butt heads with each other as they would fight for command, which would oftentimes lead to a high casualty rate.

 

Each squad breed their own unique culture of violence.

 

For the most part, they were still all a part of Mustang Sixteen, but that would soon be tested.

 

At the Battle of Providence. 

 

>>>

 

They were sent to defend the city of Providence, a city of wealth and luxury that hosted people from all over the world. 

 

Most of the buildings were made of marble and gold, which glowed a brilliant light.

 

That light would soon glow red, as fire would rain down, as artillery shells would pepper the skies.

 

The sound of explosions echoed throughout the city of Providence as the Empire of Ozma launched a full-scale mechanized assault.

 

Armored personnel carriers would rush through the hail of fire, like a typhoon as they disembarked their troops in key locations within the city.

 

Tanks would roam throughout the city like wolves trying to hunt sheep.

 

Each day felt as though a noose was gripping the Mustang Sixteen’s throat tighter and tighter.

 

Bottle and Beer Beard were in a makeshift outpost of sorts, overlooking a courtyard.

 

The courtyard led to a secret underground railway system which was being used to evacuate the people of Providence.

 

Beer Beard could taste the lingering dirt and debris floating in the air, as his nose would be bombarded with the smell of burning oil.

 

He wiped his face with his bare hand, he could feel sharp tingling throughout his body.

 

(Sigh~) “We need to get hell outa he’ya Bottle… I won’t want to die in this dump…”

 

“My bois captured one of those battle tanks they waz using… we can make it, if we time th’is r’ight.”

 

“He’y Bottle?! Ya- listening?”

 

Bottle nodes but give no other ques, he merely watches the fire pit as he takes a sip from his canteen. 

 

Beer Beard sharpened his gaze and cleared his throat, his voice trembled in anger and bewilderment.

 

“Those… peep’s we protect’in… have you seen em?”

 

Bottle nodes again.

 

The people of Providence traveled in a caravan of sorts, making them hard to miss.

 

They acted with degeneracy and decadence, shoving and pulling each other like crabs in a bucket.

 

Some wore torn robes that glittered with jewelry, while others wore black and white suits and dresses

 

Although they were without a doubt human, small deformities like their hooked nose, sunken eyes, and pale skins would make you second guess yourself.

 

What caused the most distress however was what they spoke of.

 

It felt like curses and spells were being casted, as they would narrate how they caused this war. And of how they will make the next one.

 

The damning details made it hard to refute. 

 

There was a noticeable shift in tone from Mustang Sixteen, their unease and doubt quickly spread throughout the ranks.

 

Beer Beard eye’s burned with fury. He took a swing from his flask and slammed it down on the ground. 

 

Of course, Beer Beard knew that war is far from fair, the entire Mustang Sixteen knew that…

 

He could’ve probably guessed there were some external factors that could have caused wars, maybe even some invisible hand.

 

But to see the puppeteer behind the curtain mocking them in person filled every fiber of his body with rage.

 

“Let’s kill em,” Beer Beard whispers.

 

Beer Beard looked over and saw Bottle, rather than nodding his head Bottle just took another sip from his canteen.

 

“B-Bottle- Hey! Come on man! I’m be’in serious up in he’ya!”

 

Bottle finally responded, his voice expressed no anger rather it was rather calm, “I can’t let you do that… Beer Beard.”

 

“W-Wat? Wat the fuck did you just say!?”

 

“Killing those people won’t change anything, Beer Beard.”

 

“B-Bottle… don’t tell my ‘ya sucking up to these fucks!”

 

“You wouldn’t understand Beer Beard.”

 

“And why would that be?”

 

There was a brief pause, before Bottle replied, “You will change the future I saw…”

 

Beer Beard blinked twice, the first was from bewilderment at the words Bottle just spoke. 

 

The second was a slight longer, so that Beer Beard could comprehend the words. 

 

A grin ran across Beer Beards face, “The future? What did those rich snobs show you or something, huh? WHO TOLD YOU, HUH?!”

 

“No… It came to me in a dream.” There was no hesitation in Bottle’s voice as if he stated a fact.

 

Beer Beard’s grin quickly disappeared, he was speechless at what he heard.

 

His mind scrambled for a reply, but found none.

 

“Don’t worry Beer Beard, you’ll live through it, all you need to… endure.”

 

Beer Beard stood up from where he sat, noticing his intent Bottle stood up as well, and followed him.

 

They both stood in front of the metal gate that led to the underground railroad.

 

The gate was once golden with engravings, but as the battle continued at Providence, dust and fire painted the gate black as if rot had emerged.

 

The small glittering gold visible gave a sick reminder to Beer Beard, of the people that they had protected.

 

As Beer Beard reached his hand to open the gate, Bottle clocked his handgun. (Click!)

 

Bottle took out a cigarette and lit it, (Clink!) (Huff~) “Can’t let you do that Beer Beard.”

 

Beer Beard, who was facing away from Bottle, reached for his combat knife slowly, “Do you really want to do this Bottle!? HUH!”

 

Bottle tightened his grip on his handgun, “Sorry Beer Beard… The choice is already made.”

 

The gun spat lead, as sharp cracks echoed.

 

Beer Beard ran to the side, as bullets ran past him like a freight train.

 

As Bottle’s handgun ran out of bullets Beer Beard changed his course and sprinted towards him, his knife at the ready

 

Beer Beard crashed like a wave, his knife stabbed deeply into Bottle’s chest.

 

He spat out his cigarette as he screamed in pain, ‘ArRRgghHHh!’

 

Bottle grunted as the knife carved into his flesh, he retaliated by headbutting Beer Beard, making him stumble back.

 

Using the same opportunity, he shot his last two shots into Beer Beard in the chest.

 

(BANG!) (BANG!)

 

The bullets lunged into Beer Beard’s chest and stomach, as blood spat out as if rejecting what had just occurred.

 

“ARGH! P-PIECE OF -” (SLAM!)

 

A punch slammed across Beer Beard's face, causing him to spit blood.

 

The fight then turned into a street brawl, there was no technique or tactics.

 

They exchanged punches as their crimson red blood dripped from their wounds.

 

Beer Beard’s overall size should’ve led a seemingly one sided beat down, but Bottle targeted Beer Beard’s wound.

 

Howls of pain ringed from Beer Beard as Bottle mercilessly inflicted the most pain as possible to Beer Beard.

 

Beer Beard fell back to his knees, too tired and wounded to continue. 

 

Having some distance, Bottle pulled out Beer Beard’s combat knife from his chest and limped over to Beer Beard.

 

Beer Beard's mouth felt dry, but he could taste his own blood.

 

His vision was blurry, and yet his mind was fully awake.

 

His body felt hot, but his skin felt cold.

 

He could see the vague image of Bottle in front of him, holding his knife.

 

He wanted to move, to fight; but he couldn’t.

 

Bottle raised the knife as high as a bird, before swooping down like a guillotine.

 

A large chunk of flesh and blood spat out from Beer Beard’s face.

 

A huge scar ran down Beer Beard’s right eye.

 

His scream was horrific, sounding as if a man was burning alive.

 

Bottle issued a warning, “Leave Beer Beard…”

 

Tossing the bloody knife aside, Bottle limped away to the gate; and locked it from within.

 

Beer Beard layed on the floor bloodied and battered, barely alive as every pain imaginable was caressing him.

 

As he struggled to keep his eye open from the blood that dripped his good eye, he could see it.

 

He could see Bottle, who slowly faded away and disappeared, into the mouth of a beast, and into the belly of damnation.