These children-not-children, so young and so brilliant, minds too old for their tender bodies; they're training training training just to learn how to kill; killing in the guise of a game is killing all the same (and they think they're learning how to kill their alien enemies, but the truth is that come the bleak future, the ones they'll be killing are each other).

This is wartime, little boys, little girls; keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and your wits and your weapons closest of all; a kiss on the cheek and salaam for peace--you can hope for it, but don't you know it's never meant to last?

This is wartime, and the first casualty is always friendship.

(This is a very weird style I just wrote this in. Hope it makes some kind of sense. XD)