The battlefield was a chaotic blur, the distant sounds of gunfire mixing with the steady rhythm of Mike Harris' heartbeat. He had been in countless firefights, but this one felt different. There was a weight to the air, a sense that something was about to shift. His team had been deep behind enemy lines, and things had gone south fast.
He adjusted his helmet, wiped the sweat from his brow, and scanned the area. His soldiers were scattered, taking cover in what little safety they could find amidst the hail of bullets. Mike had been the one to lead them here, the one to take responsibility. And now, he was the one trying to get them out alive.
His mission was simple: eliminate the target, retrieve the intel, and return. But that's not how it worked out. The mission turned into a nightmare. The ambush came without warning, and now, all Mike could do was survive.
But survival was a cruel mistress. It demanded sacrifices. He ducked behind a broken wall as more rounds cracked through the air, his thoughts focusing on the men and women under his command. They depended on him. He wouldn't let them down.
His radio crackled to life. "Sergeant Harris! We're pinned down, we need extraction—now!"
Mike didn't hesitate. "Keep your heads down, I'm coming to you. Stay with me."
He moved forward, keeping low, his boots kicking up dirt as he sprinted across the battlefield. His military training—his instincts—took over. He had been in the thick of things before, but this felt like the end.
A sudden explosion rocked the ground beneath him. Mike was thrown forward, slamming into the earth. Pain exploded through his chest, his ribs screaming as the force of the blast knocked the wind out of him. He tried to push himself up, but his vision blurred. His legs were numb.
No... not like this. Not now.
The sounds around him faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the pounding of his heart. He felt the weight of his body sinking into the dirt, his mind drifting.
The last thing he heard was the crack of another shot, and then... nothing.
When Mike opened his eyes again, the world was different.
It was bright. Too bright. And quiet. Too quiet.
His mind swirled with confusion as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. His hands felt strange, younger, stronger—like the body of a man who had never seen the brutality of war.
He blinked again, and slowly, the world came into focus. He was no longer lying on the battlefield. He was in a different place altogether—standing in the middle of a suburban street, where the sounds of kids laughing and the hum of cars driving by filled the air.
Mike's breath hitched in his throat. He looked down at his hands once more. They were unscarred, smooth. The skin was warm, vibrant. His body felt... alive again. A strange panic rose in his chest. What was this? Was he dreaming? Had he died? Was this some kind of afterlife?
Then, his eyes caught something—a sign, just across the street. The words were clear, bold, and unexpected: Reseda High School.
Mike stumbled backward, his heart racing. He hadn't expected this. This was... impossible. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be alive.
A young girl, no older than sixteen, walked by with a set of books in her hands, her cheerleading uniform bouncing as she moved. She gave him a quick, curious glance, but then continued on, as if it was perfectly normal for someone to be standing in the middle of a street, lost and confused.
Was this some kind of sick joke?
Mike ran a hand through his hair, trying to piece together the fragments of his life, his memories, and his reality. He had been a soldier. He had fought in wars, lost comrades, sacrificed everything. That life was supposed to be over. It was supposed to end with him.
But this... this wasn't the end.
He was here now. Somewhere he didn't recognize, and in a body that wasn't his own. What had happened to him?
His mind raced, but there was no time to waste. He needed answers. And the only way he'd get them was to start over. To survive, just like he had done on every battlefield. To find a purpose, just as he always had.
For the first time in a long time, Mike didn't know what was coming next. But in his gut, he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't done fighting.
This wasn't the end. It was just the beginning of a new battle.
End of Prologue.