Note: Takes place during Samuels pelican ride from the Medical HQ to Blood Gulch. Felt like describing the main events that eventually led to Sams tranfer to Blood Gulch.

As his vision returned to him, Samuel Harrison coughed, dust having reached his lungs. Turning onto his side, he looked up at the blurry sandy plain ahead of him. A small group of blue figures stood a few feet away, talking at a small command post. He turned his head and saw a few burning husks of warthogs, and another blue figure walking his way. "Get your ass up private! We're in the middle of battle! No time to sleep!" That voice immediately brought Sam back to reality, and he instantly regretted it. A rough grab to the shoulder and Sam stood, facing Sergeant Taylor Michelson. "Since we're in a joint operation, I've relieved my command of you to Commander Anderson."

Sam nodded, still a little light headed, and moved toward the command post, snatching up his stray helmet and a Battle Rifle. "Private Harrison?" he nodded. "Good. For a moment thought you wouldn't wake up. Reds are making a push near the windmill. Soon they'll be at the decrepit sea wall. But that's not the big problem. Main problem is that they've a sniper in a tower, taking pot shots at our troops, and a Main Battle Tank assisting the push." The Commander explained.

"Since most of my troops are currently engaged with the bulk of Red, I need you, Corporal Michaels and Sergeant Ghast to sneak up through the hole in the Sea Wall and try and sabotage the reds from behind, effectively flanking the bastards." At his comment of Michaels and Ghast, the pair of soldiers who Sam had never met before stepped forward. Sam turned towards them and nodded. "Pleasure working with you." The pair nodded. "Enough chatter, go and take out those two main targets." The Commander ordered. The trio saluted and then jogged off toward the stairs that led up to the sea wall.

As Sam moved up the stairs, he saw numerous dead blue armored bodies, and one wounded trooper speaking gibberish while a medic patched him up. He instinctively shuddered and followed the more experienced Ghast to the hole in the wall. He peered around the corner, down at the two squads of reds and tank that were currently engaged with whatever blue forces remained. Ghast then made the sign to move one at a time to the sniper tower.

Michaels dropped first, followed by Harrison then Ghast. The fall slightly shook the private and almost caused him to plant his butt in the dirt, but he kept his balance and took point at Ghasts order. As Harrison made his way up to the sniper tower, Ghast and Michaels took cover to make sure no one was spotted. The red sniper was looking through his scope, focusing hard on the battle in front of him, almost certain that nothing would occur. He was wrong. An arm wrapped tightly around his throat, pulling him into a dead lock. A snap later and the red was dead, but still didn't go out without making noise. A moment before the snap, the red pulled the trigger of his sniper, which echoed down into the existing battle, with another red trooper turning to see a pair of blues at the base of the sniper tower.

Soon, the trio of blues were pinned, half of the reds opening fire on their position. Harrison went prone beside Michaels, who was in a crouch and letting off short controlled bursts with her assault rifle. Ghast had taken the red sniper rifle and was doing a little job of taking out red heads. Then the tank swivveled its turret. It slowly went into reverse, backing up until it was in perfect position. Then it fired.

Sam snapped awake, looking wildly around in the back of the pelican. Dreams, always telling him that the past was real. He just wanted to forget. Placing his bare face in the palm of his left hand, Sam cursed himself. He couldn't forget the past, as it was real. And real things are never easy to forget.

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