Free falling. One of the most extreme sports in the world. Well, both worlds actually. Anyway, below me, I could see her-rather, the speck I assumed to be her. I wanted to scream, but no one would have been able to hear me. My ship was a thousand feet above me, and she was just as equally far below me. I was fifteen years old and had already done things only a soldier should do, almost nothing a kid should do, and I didn't mind it that much. She was also fifteen years old, and the worst thing she had ever done was maybe argue with her mother or gotten into a fight in school. Neither of us had a parachute, yet one of us would survive; unfortunately, it wasn't her. I wanted to scream. It was my fault, after all. I wanted to kill myself, I was so angry. Children are often taught by parents and preachers that God created everyone special, different from anyone else. For Calibur, special took on a whole new meaning. He was born into war, as a reason for war, and as a soldier of war. War is all he has ever known, and his anger-his special anger-has always been the tool he used to fight it. And it wasn't like he didn't have good reason; his enemy was slowly killing everything that mattered to him. And then came Alice. With Alice, Calibur starts to see that maybe, just maybe, his entire paradigm has been askewa "and maybe, just maybe, love can change anyone, even the most horrific monsters."