Posted By: Tyr Kamikaze<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 10 May 2000, 4:03 a.m.
The bullets from the large assault cannon atop the jeep screeched through the air in a deadly fury. They were met with sparks as they careened off the metal armor of the blue devils but for a few unlucky souls(if those monsters could possess such things), the bullets hit home, plunging deep through the forgiving tissue not stopping until they crashed into the hard bone, shattering fragments that would ricochet into organs and sometimes exit the body in a bloody mess of blue and green. The marine did not stop firing until the barrels were silently rotating, his knuckles white with tension. He could not bear to look down at his fallen comrades. His eyes refused to blink and he took the pain of a large gash down his side as pennance.
He could not have saved them. He knew that, but could not help feeling guilty. It was not a guilt of pride but of moral anguish. He hopped down and was reminded of his injury by a sharp pain that sent tentacles of fire through his whole body. Running through the forest, clumsily holding his assault rifle, he ran into the deep overgrowth and knelt down.
Staring at the accumulating puddle of blood, he could see himself. He saw a Marine, trained to kill. He saw a man in pain. His mind saw his life before this wretched place. The last thing he saw was a blue sillhouette and a bright light that beckoned him closer.