He wasn’t used to being hunted; he was a hunter, being the prey was very different. He dug his heels into the ribs of his grok, urging it onward; the beast was growing wearing…. The chase was almost over. A few moments passed; suddenly, a bolt of plasma landed only a few feet away, then another, and another! Very soon, one found its mark! The marro warrior went flying forward as his grok fell dead from a bolt of plasma to the leg. He sprung to his feet as fast as he could, readying his skulled flail for battle. A few agonizing movements swept by, sweat dripped from the face of the weary marro; he had been fleeing long, he had information, information needed to protect the hive, but the hive didn’t understand, instead, it ordered his destruction. He didn’t know why it wanted him dead, but he knew he must protect the hive, even if that meant destroying it! The rustle of leaves and grunts of groks awoke the marro from his thoughs; four large groks, mounted by marro warriors came rushing through the thickets. One began to speak in the foul tongue of the marro,
“He-he, well, brother, we have found you!” Said the apparent leader of the group, as the groks began to circle around the un-mounted marro, “You lead us on quite a chase -- I like that, I like that a lot.” He said with a cackle, “But it’s over now; the chase has come to an end, as has your life!” with that, he released a plasma bolt, disintegrating the flail of the lone marro, “Think, Klen-Si, the hive depends on me, you can’t end it lik -- Aughgh!!” shrieked the lone marro, as a bolt of plasma made contact with his arm, searing his arm from his body. He doubled over, holding his shoulder with his still intact arm; steam began to ascend from his wound. The grok leader, whose name was apparently Klen-Si, responded, “End it like what? –” He said with a cackle, but half way through his malicious laugh, he paused, and thought for a moment. “Borther,” he said, dismounting, and then making his way towards the injured marro, he then knelt down beside him, and leaning into his face, said with a mocking voice, “You want to know why the hive ordered your destruction? -- Because it’s too late…” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, “too late for you, too late for the hive, too late for Valhalla. The impending doom is about us, brother. You chose your side, and now…. Now, you pay the price….” he cackled, and without warning, grabbed the helpless marro by the throat, and hurled him in the direction of his grok, who, in response, leapt, catching the marro in mid air with its gaping maw -- bones cracked, green blood oozed forth from the mouth of the feasting grok; they heard his agonized screams; they saw his tortured expression as he was torn apart, but they just laughed…. laughed and watched….
***
The Soulborg readied his weapon; the grut was moving into position, all he had to do was wait.
……The Omnicron never fired; something got him first……..
***
Agent Charles stormed into the wooden cabin of the scarcely populated outpost, “Has Sniper Beta-411 reported back yet?”
“No, not yet, Sir. Last we knew it was targeting a grut somewhere towards the middle of the jungle… and then, it just… fizzled out.” Came the simple reply of agent Ken.
“Damn! Lost another!” Growled agent Charles, as he threw his mirrored sunglasses into the wall, “We can’t keep losing ‘em like this, Ken. We just can’t; this war is going bad enough as it is, and we keep losing men -- errm, Soulborgs -- and we don’t know why!” He said, crushing his cigarette on the desk.
“Agent Ken, ready another search party; we’re heading out again, and this time, we’re not coming back without some answers.”
***
Vendel took steady aim, he looked down the shaft of his bow; his prey was in position. He signaled to the other elves; it was time to attack. Arrows flew from the trees, and in moments, three large groks, and their marro riders, were dispatched.
“Well done, my kin.” Congratulated Vendel, as he leapt down from the tree and into the path, “The enemy, stood no chance against warriors such as thee! Eh, -- something dost trouble me, though…. aye, why wouldst the ilk of the hive travel into our territory in such a small force?” puzzled, Vendel continued, “Surely they didst not believe such a small force would survive long here, much less, do any real harm as a raiding party. Nay, some deed more foul was their doing; mayhap, they seek a creature of great might? Perhaps one of extreme evil… one can only ponder such things, but whatever deed that hath brought them thus far, it shall be left unfulfilled. Come, let us return to the outpost; Agent Charles is waiting.”
With that, the elf party turned and made their way back toward the outpost
***
Spoiler Alert!
“Another sniper gone, you say?!” said Vendel in disbelief.
“Yep,” Was agent Charels’ distressed reply, “And I want to know just what the hell is going on! Those suckers had the best censor systems I’ve ever seen, yet something got passed ‘em! I just don’t get it!” he said, clinching his fist.
Vendel opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by agent Ken, “Sir,” he said, approaching agent Charles, “The search party is suited up and ready to go.”
“Good” replied Charels, “Let’s use the hover cycles though.”
“Are you sure, sir?” answered Ken, “They were meant for a full throttle invasion, not a search expedition.”
“It’s for me to ask questions, Ken, your job is to follow them. Now get the hover cycles ready.”
With that, agent Ken saluted and then departed. As soon as agent Ken was out of sight, Vendel began to speak, “What ails you, Charels? I sense an uneasiness in your spirit.”
“Vendel,” said agent Charels with a sigh, “I have a feeling this is the only time we’ll be using the hover cycles.”
“And that distresses you?” Asked Vendel, pussled by the agent’s words.
Agent Charles turned away from Vendel, he paused to observe his search party mounting the cycles, he thought it strange that not too long ago the war looked as if it were almost over, as if they had won… but now, now it looked like they were going to lose… and badly. He chuckled to himself, all this, and they were going to lose anyhow, yet he didn’t know why he kept fighting “No, Vendel…. no… that’s not what troubles me. We won’t be using them because….becuase we won’t be around to use them….” He then started off towards his hover cycle.
***
The hum of engines and the rustle of leaves was all that dominated the jungle scene as squadron T-1 advanced through the forest. The hover cyclists dodged through the brush as they searched for the destroyed sinper, “Sir, we’re coming up on a clearing near the location where we lost contact with the sniper.” Came agent Ken’s report over the com-link.
“Good,” replied Charles, “Circle, and close in with causation; let HQ know of our position.”
Agent Ken gave the order to circle, and they began to tighten the noose around the clearing.
And when the hover cycles finally break through the brush and enter the clearing, what they see will change the fate of Valhalla forever…..
Spoiler Alert!
Smoke rose from the clearing; the scorched remains of hover cycles littered the battlefield, here and there lay motionless bodies of the once well-trained men of squadron T-1. This clearly wasn’t a battle; it was a massacre.
The forest sounds that had been there before the battle had ceased. The smell of burning plantation, and liquid metal would fill the nostrils of any onlooker.
Much time passed before a figure stirred, first he gasped for air as he rolled the hover cycle that lay atop him off his chest. His battlesuit groaned as he staggered to his feet. Beholding the scene about him, he reached for his pistol, only to realize it was missing. He frowned.
Moving his hand to his com-link Agent Charles said, “Agent Ken?” He received no reply. “Agent Ken?” He said into the com again, as he hobbled across the tortured battle scene. Once again, there was no answer. “Agent Ken?!!” He shouted into the com, yet again to no avail.
He muttered some obscene language under his breath as he began to move amongst the dead. He totaled 47 dead of his original group of 56. Of the other 9 there was no sign.
“HQ, come in.” He said over the com, yet he only received static, “Damn! We lost HQ, we lost the best squadron in Valhalla, and I lost the only two men I trusted on this lousy excuse for a planet.” He sighed, “Well, if there ever was a hopeless cause, it’s this one.” He said, cocking a laser rifle he recovered from the battlefield. He then turned to face the battle field once again, “Fellas, if you believe there’s a god out there, you sure as hell better pray to him for me. Now rest in peace.” With this he turned, and made his way out of the clearing, and into the forest.
***
Ten hours since his departure from the clearing, agent Charles was gasping for breath in the dense forest air, sweat and grime covered his face, he had decided to shed his battle suit a while back, as it was only making traversing the terrain more difficult.
He didn’t know where he was, he just knew that he had to find his friends, dead or alive, he needed to know what happened to them.
The world about him began to spin; it was hot and he couldn’t see straight, it was as if he was walking about in haze. He stumbled, he fell…. he didn’t get up.
“…I just need… to rest for a minute… Yeah,… I’d be no… good to my soldiers if… I’m too weary to… to stand…”
With this he slept, whether it was from exhaustion or grief, he knew not, but he welcomed the apathy as it engulfed him.
***
He woke much later; the world about him was dark. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged. His clothes were still torn and tatter, but they were clean, also.
He sat up and looked about him, there was a small campfire about three yards away, he noticed two strange figures stooped over it. He reached for his rifle, only to find it missing.
Unsure of what to do, he began to stand up as quietly as possible, but let out a groan as he re-opened his wound and fell back down. He hadn’t realized how bad his wounds were.
The two figures swung around. And much to Agent Charles’ horror, they were Marro.
Last edited by Joseph Sweeney; December 24th, 2013 at 02:46 PM.
Ah, well done! I thought your writing would be excellent. Some minor grammar stuff, but no more than anyone else starting their first fan fic. Your writing overall is pretty good, as well as quite engaging. Keep it up!
~TGRF.
P.S. Fan fics get indexed once they hit page two.
He wasn’t used to being hunted; he was a hunter, being the prey was very different. He dug his heels into the ribs of his grok, urging it onward; the beast was growing wearing…. The chase was almost over. A few moments passed; suddenly, a bolt of plasma landed only a few feet away, then another, and another! Very soon, one found its mark! The marro warrior went flying forward as his grok fell dead from a bolt of plasma to the leg. He sprung to his feet as fast as he could, readying his skulled flail for battle. A few agonizing movements swept by, sweat dripped from the face of the weary marro; he had been fleeing long, he had information, information needed to protect the hive, but the hive didn’t understand, instead, it ordered his destruction. He didn’t know why it wanted him dead, but he knew he must protect the hive, even if that meant destroying it! The rustle of leaves and grunts of groks awoke the marro from his thoughs; four large groks, mounted by marro warriors came rushing through the thickets. One began to speak in the foul tongue of the marro,
“He-he, well, brother, we have found you!” Said the apparent leader of the group, as the groks began to circle around the un-mounted marro, “You lead us on quite a chase -- I like that, I like that a lot.” He said with a cackle, “But it’s over now; the chase has come to an end, as has your life!” with that, he released a plasma bolt, disintegrating the flail of the lone marro, “Think, Klen-Si, the hive depends on me, you can’t end it lik -- Aughgh!!” shrieked the lone marro, as a bolt of plasma made contact with his arm, searing his arm from his body. He doubled over, holding his shoulder with his still intact arm; steam began to ascend from his wound. The grok leader, whose name was apparently Klen-Si, responded, “End it like what? –” He said with a cackle, but half way through his malicious laugh, he paused, and thought for a moment. “Borther,” he said, dismounting, and then making his way towards the injured marro, he then knelt down beside him, and leaning into his face, said with a mocking voice, “You want to know why the hive ordered your destruction? -- Because it’s too late…” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, “too late for you, too late for the hive, too late for Valhalla. The impending doom is about us, brother. You chose your side, and now…. Now, you pay the price….” he cackled, and without warning, grabbed the helpless marro by the throat, and hurled him in the direction of his grok, who, in response, leapt, catching the marro in mid air with its gaping maw -- bones cracked, green blood oozed forth from the mouth of the feasting grok; they heard his agonized screams; they saw his tortured expression as he was torn apart, but they just laughed…. laughed and watched….
***
The Soulborg readied his weapon; the grut was moving into position, all he had to do was wait.
……The Omnicron never fired; something got him first……..
***
Agent Charles stormed into the wooden cabin of the scarcely populated outpost, “Has Sniper Beta-411 reported back yet?”
“No, not yet, Sir. Last we knew it was targeting a grut somewhere towards the middle of the jungle… and then, it just… fizzled out.” Came the simple reply of agent Ken.
“Damn! Lost another!” Growled agent Charles, as he threw his mirrored sunglasses into the wall, “We can’t keep losing ‘em like this, Ken. We just can’t; this war is going bad enough as it is, and we keep losing men -- errm, Soulborgs -- and we don’t know why!” He said, crushing his cigarette on the desk.
“Agent Ken, ready another search party; we’re heading out again, and this time, we’re not coming back without some answers.”
***
Vendel took steady aim, he looked down the shaft of his bow; his prey was in position. He signaled to the other elves; it was time to attack. Arrows flew from the trees, and in moments, three large groks, and their marro riders, were dispatched.
“Well done, my kin.” Congratulated Vendel, as he leapt down from the tree and into the path, “The enemy, stood no chance against warriors such as thee! Eh, -- something dost trouble me, though…. aye, why wouldst the ilk of the hive travel into our territory in such a small force?” puzzled, Vendel continued, “Surely they didst not believe such a small force would survive long here, much less, do any real harm as a raiding party. Nay, some deed more foul was their doing; mayhap, they seek a creature of great might? Perhaps one of extreme evil… one can only ponder such things, but whatever deed that hath brought them thus far, it shall be left unfulfilled. Come, let us return to the outpost; Agent Charles is waiting.”
With that, the elf party turned and made their way back toward the outpost
***
Nice! Just one thing, try not to use so many exclamation points .
He wasn’t used to being hunted; he was a hunter, being the prey was very different. He dug his heels into the ribs of his grok, urging it onward; the beast was growing wearing…. The chase was almost over. A few moments passed; suddenly, a bolt of plasma landed only a few feet away, then another, and another! Very soon, one found its mark! The marro warrior went flying forward as his grok fell dead from a bolt of plasma to the leg. He sprung to his feet as fast as he could, readying his skulled flail for battle. A few agonizing movements swept by, sweat dripped from the face of the weary marro; he had been fleeing long, he had information, information needed to protect the hive, but the hive didn’t understand, instead, it ordered his destruction. He didn’t know why it wanted him dead, but he knew he must protect the hive, even if that meant destroying it! The rustle of leaves and grunts of groks awoke the marro from his thoughs; four large groks, mounted by marro warriors came rushing through the thickets. One began to speak in the foul tongue of the marro,
“He-he, well, brother, we have found you!” Said the apparent leader of the group, as the groks began to circle around the un-mounted marro, “You lead us on quite a chase -- I like that, I like that a lot.” He said with a cackle, “But it’s over now; the chase has come to an end, as has your life!” with that, he released a plasma bolt, disintegrating the flail of the lone marro, “Think, Klen-Si, the hive depends on me, you can’t end it lik -- Aughgh!!” shrieked the lone marro, as a bolt of plasma made contact with his arm, searing his arm from his body. He doubled over, holding his shoulder with his still intact arm; steam began to ascend from his wound. The grok leader, whose name was apparently Klen-Si, responded, “End it like what? –” He said with a cackle, but half way through his malicious laugh, he paused, and thought for a moment. “Borther,” he said, dismounting, and then making his way towards the injured marro, he then knelt down beside him, and leaning into his face, said with a mocking voice, “You want to know why the hive ordered your destruction? -- Because it’s too late…” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, “too late for you, too late for the hive, too late for Valhalla. The impending doom is about us, brother. You chose your side, and now…. Now, you pay the price….” he cackled, and without warning, grabbed the helpless marro by the throat, and hurled him in the direction of his grok, who, in response, leapt, catching the marro in mid air with its gaping maw -- bones cracked, green blood oozed forth from the mouth of the feasting grok; they heard his agonized screams; they saw his tortured expression as he was torn apart, but they just laughed…. laughed and watched….
***
The Soulborg readied his weapon; the grut was moving into position, all he had to do was wait.
……The Omnicron never fired; something got him first……..
***
Agent Charles stormed into the wooden cabin of the scarcely populated outpost, “Has Sniper Beta-411 reported back yet?”
“No, not yet, Sir. Last we knew it was targeting a grut somewhere towards the middle of the jungle… and then, it just… fizzled out.” Came the simple reply of agent Ken.
“Damn! Lost another!” Growled agent Charles, as he threw his mirrored sunglasses into the wall, “We can’t keep losing ‘em like this, Ken. We just can’t; this war is going bad enough as it is, and we keep losing men -- errm, Soulborgs -- and we don’t know why!” He said, crushing his cigarette on the desk.
“Agent Ken, ready another search party; we’re heading out again, and this time, we’re not coming back without some answers.”
***
Vendel took steady aim, he looked down the shaft of his bow; his prey was in position. He signaled to the other elves; it was time to attack. Arrows flew from the trees, and in moments, three large groks, and their marro riders, were dispatched.
“Well done, my kin.” Congratulated Vendel, as he leapt down from the tree and into the path, “The enemy, stood no chance against warriors such as thee! Eh, -- something dost trouble me, though…. aye, why wouldst the ilk of the hive travel into our territory in such a small force?” puzzled, Vendel continued, “Surely they didst not believe such a small force would survive long here, much less, do any real harm as a raiding party. Nay, some deed more foul was their doing; mayhap, they seek a creature of great might? Perhaps one of extreme evil… one can only ponder such things, but whatever deed that hath brought them thus far, it shall be left unfulfilled. Come, let us return to the outpost; Agent Charles is waiting.”
With that, the elf party turned and made their way back toward the outpost
***
Nice! Just one thing, try not to use so many exclamation points .
Indeed. Try to avoid using them unless someone is talking. They're fine in speech though.
He wasn’t used to being hunted; he was a hunter, being the prey was very different. He dug his heels into the ribs of his grok, urging it onward; the beast was growing wearing…. The chase was almost over. A few moments passed; suddenly, a bolt of plasma landed only a few feet away, then another, and another! Very soon, one found its mark! The marro warrior went flying forward as his grok fell dead from a bolt of plasma to the leg. He sprung to his feet as fast as he could, readying his skulled flail for battle. A few agonizing movements swept by, sweat dripped from the face of the weary marro; he had been fleeing long, he had information, information needed to protect the hive, but the hive didn’t understand, instead, it ordered his destruction. He didn’t know why it wanted him dead, but he knew he must protect the hive, even if that meant destroying it! The rustle of leaves and grunts of groks awoke the marro from his thoughs; four large groks, mounted by marro warriors came rushing through the thickets. One began to speak in the foul tongue of the marro,
“He-he, well, brother, we have found you!” Said the apparent leader of the group, as the groks began to circle around the un-mounted marro, “You lead us on quite a chase -- I like that, I like that a lot.” He said with a cackle, “But it’s over now; the chase has come to an end, as has your life!” with that, he released a plasma bolt, disintegrating the flail of the lone marro, “Think, Klen-Si, the hive depends on me, you can’t end it lik -- Aughgh!!” shrieked the lone marro, as a bolt of plasma made contact with his arm, searing his arm from his body. He doubled over, holding his shoulder with his still intact arm; steam began to ascend from his wound. The grok leader, whose name was apparently Klen-Si, responded, “End it like what? –” He said with a cackle, but half way through his malicious laugh, he paused, and thought for a moment. “Borther,” he said, dismounting, and then making his way towards the injured marro, he then knelt down beside him, and leaning into his face, said with a mocking voice, “You want to know why the hive ordered your destruction? -- Because it’s too late…” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, “too late for you, too late for the hive, too late for Valhalla. The impending doom is about us, brother. You chose your side, and now…. Now, you pay the price….” he cackled, and without warning, grabbed the helpless marro by the throat, and hurled him in the direction of his grok, who, in response, leapt, catching the marro in mid air with its gaping maw -- bones cracked, green blood oozed forth from the mouth of the feasting grok; they heard his agonized screams; they saw his tortured expression as he was torn apart, but they just laughed…. laughed and watched….
***
The Soulborg readied his weapon; the grut was moving into position, all he had to do was wait.
……The Omnicron never fired; something got him first……..
***
Agent Charles stormed into the wooden cabin of the scarcely populated outpost, “Has Sniper Beta-411 reported back yet?”
“No, not yet, Sir. Last we knew it was targeting a grut somewhere towards the middle of the jungle… and then, it just… fizzled out.” Came the simple reply of agent Ken.
“Damn! Lost another!” Growled agent Charles, as he threw his mirrored sunglasses into the wall, “We can’t keep losing ‘em like this, Ken. We just can’t; this war is going bad enough as it is, and we keep losing men -- errm, Soulborgs -- and we don’t know why!” He said, crushing his cigarette on the desk.
“Agent Ken, ready another search party; we’re heading out again, and this time, we’re not coming back without some answers.”
***
Vendel took steady aim, he looked down the shaft of his bow; his prey was in position. He signaled to the other elves; it was time to attack. Arrows flew from the trees, and in moments, three large groks, and their marro riders, were dispatched.
“Well done, my kin.” Congratulated Vendel, as he leapt down from the tree and into the path, “The enemy, stood no chance against warriors such as thee! Eh, -- something dost trouble me, though…. aye, why wouldst the ilk of the hive travel into our territory in such a small force?” puzzled, Vendel continued, “Surely they didst not believe such a small force would survive long here, much less, do any real harm as a raiding party. Nay, some deed more foul was their doing; mayhap, they seek a creature of great might? Perhaps one of extreme evil… one can only ponder such things, but whatever deed that hath brought them thus far, it shall be left unfulfilled. Come, let us return to the outpost; Agent Charles is waiting.”
With that, the elf party turned and made their way back toward the outpost
***
Nice! Just one thing, try not to use so many exclamation points .
Indeed. Try to avoid using them unless someone is talking. They're fine in speech though.
It's too late for heroes now. My hope is finished, the light is gray. If ever I had a chance, that chance is far past gone. It's too late for heroes now.
My only hope is in a Saviour.
Last edited by Ninja Status; July 22nd, 2013 at 01:36 AM.
Reason: The one thing I hate: You must spread some Reputation around before giving it to Joseph Sweeney again.
“Another sniper gone, you say?!” said Vendel in disbelief.
“Yep,” Was agent Charels’ distressed reply, “And I want to know just what the hell is going on! Those suckers had the best censor systems I’ve ever seen, yet something got passed ‘em! I just don’t get it!” he said, clinching his fist.
Vendel opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by agent Ken, “Sir,” he said, approaching agent Charles, “The search party is suited up and ready to go.”
“Good” replied Charels, “Let’s use the hover cycles though.”
“Are you sure, sir?” answered Ken, “They were meant for a full throttle invasion, not a search expedition.”
“It’s for me to ask questions, Ken, your job is to follow them. Now get the hover cycles ready.”
With that, agent Ken saluted and then departed.
As soon as agent Ken was out of sight, Vendel began to speak, “What ails you, Charels? I sense an uneasiness in your spirit.”
“Vendel,” said agent Charels with a sigh, “I have a feeling this is the only time we’ll be using the hover cycles.”
“And that distresses you?” Asked Vendel, pussled by the agent’s words.
Agent Charles turned away from Vendel, he paused to observe his search party mounting the cycles, he thought it strange that not too long ago the war looked as if it were almost over, as if they had won… but now, now it looked like they were going to lose… and badly. He chuckled to himself, all this, and they were going to lose anyhow, yet he didn’t know why he kept fighting “No, Vendel…. no… that’s not what troubles me. We won’t be using them because….becuase we won’t be around to use them….” He then started off towards his hover cycle.
***
The hum of engines and the rustle of leaves was all that dominated the jungle scene as squadron T-1 advanced through the forest. The hover cyclists dodged through the brush as they searched for the destroyed sinper,
“Sir, we’re coming up on a clearing near the location where we lost contact with the sniper.” Came agent Ken’s report over the com-link.
“Good,” replied Charles, “Circle, and close in with causation; let HQ know of our position.”
Agent Ken gave the order to circle, and they began to tighten the noose around the clearing.
And when the hover cycles finally break through the brush and enter the clearing, what they see will change the fate of Valhalla forever…..
I was going to put what they saw, but I wanted to leave you all in suspense. Hope you don't mind.
Smoke rose from the clearing; the scorched remains of hover cycles littered the battlefield, here and there lay motionless bodies of the once well-trained men of squadron T-1. This clearly wasn’t a battle; it was a massacre.
The forest sounds that had been there before the battle had ceased. The smell of burning plantation, and liquid metal would fill the nostrils of any onlooker.
Much time passed before a figure stirred, first he gasped for air as he rolled the hover cycle that lay atop him off his chest. His battlesuit groaned as he staggered to his feet. Beholding the scene about him, he reached for his pistol, only to realize it was missing. He frowned.
Moving his hand to his com-link Agent Charles said, “Agent Ken?” He received no reply. “Agent Ken?” He said into the com again, as he hobbled across the tortured battle scene. Once again, there was no answer. “Agent Ken?!!” He shouted into the com, yet again to no avail.
He muttered some obscene language under his breath as he began to move amongst the dead. He totaled 47 dead of his original group of 56. Of the other 9 there was no sign.
“HQ, come in.” He said over the com, yet he only received static, “Damn! We lost HQ, we lost the best squadron in Valhalla, and I lost the only two men I trusted on this lousy excuse for a planet.” He sighed, “Well, if there ever was a hopeless cause, it’s this one.” He said, cocking a laser rifle he recovered from the battlefield. He then turned to face the battle field once again, “Fellas, if you believe there’s a god out there, you sure as hell better pray to him for me. Now rest in peace.” With this he turned, and made his way out of the clearing, and into the forest.
***
Ten hours since his departure from the clearing, agent Charles was gasping for breath in the dense forest air, sweat and grime covered his face, he had decided to shed his battle suit a while back, as it was only making traversing the terrain more difficult.
He didn’t know where he was, he just knew that he had to find his friends, dead or alive, he needed to know what happened to them.
The world about him began to spin; it was hot and he couldn’t see straight, it was as if he was walking about in haze. He stumbled, he fell…. he didn’t get up.
“…I just need… to rest for a minute… Yeah,… I’d be no… good to my soldiers if… I’m too weary to… to stand…”
With this he slept, whether it was from exhaustion or grief, he knew not, but he welcomed the apathy as it engulfed him.
***
He woke much later; the world about him was dark. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged. His clothes were still torn and tatter, but they were clean, also.
He sat up and looked about him, there was a small campfire about three yards away, he noticed two strange figures stooped over it. He reached for his rifle, only to find it missing.
Unsure of what to do, he began to stand up as quietly as possible, but let out a groan as he re-opened his wound and fell back down. He hadn’t realized how bad his wounds were.
The two figures swung around. And much to Agent Charles’ horror, they were Marro.