"How many have fallen before my eyes? Friends, family, lovers, gone in the blink of an eye. All bathed in a crimson hue, riddled with wounds that paint the landscape red. Yet still I cower here in this room, cloaked in shadows. Perhaps they won't find me here, or if I'm lucky they'll all kill each other and I'll be free. Free to do what? I have nothing, yet I don't want to die. I don't want to die. So why won't the bleeding stop?" The velvet drips steadily from his stomach, and a chilling numbness begins to overtake his mind. "I don't want to die. I don't want to die" he sobs as tears roll down his face. He had seen too many die, he knows that death is anything but pleasant. A year ago the thought of death would have been drowned in the sheer happiness that was his life, his friends, his family, his distractions. But now he has nothing. Nothing but his father's auto rifle and the thought of death. He starts to think back to what caused all of this, if only they hadn't..his thoughts are cut short as the creaking of a rusted door breaks through the silence. Footsteps. He can hear as the rifles gently rattle, as the metal cartridges knock against one another in the pouches of the enemy. He can hear their voices, their language is alien to him but he can sense the bloodlust in their words. They were searching for him. How many of them were there? Three? Six? Or was it an entire platoon? His body begins to tremble as fear grips his heart. A warm liquid drains between his legs, mixing in with the velvet carpet. "Go away" he whispers to himself "just leave me alone. I don't want to die. Not here. Not like this" The footsteps start to die off in the distance and the only audible rattling comes from his own rifle, the cold metal grasped firmly betwixt trembling white knuckles. He lets out a sigh of relief. Loosening his grip on the rifle he checks the contents of his backpack; military issue, torn and caked in dry blood. Two clips with 30 rounds each, a large hunting knife, and a smoke grenade. No medical supplies. "Shit. No. No. No no no no! Not like this, I won't die like this!" He yells slamming his fist against the unforgiving concrete. Droplets of blood splash onto his face and a sharp pain shoots up his arm. "Damnit that hurt!" He exclaims as he shakes his hand back and forth in an attempt to ease the pain. Footsteps. They were coming back. He grabs his rifle and frantically loads the cartridge. "Damnit, I'll kill them. Yeah I'll just kill them all!" He shouts hysterically as he begins to laugh. The footsteps come to a halt just outside the door. Were they hesitant to enter? Were they being cautious for fear of their own demise? Or were they merely toying with him? Time passes, he waits lying flat on his stomach supporting his body with his forearms as he focuses the reticle on the door. He can feel the blood as it drains from his body. He didn't have long. They have medical supplies, but they won't need them if they are dead. Seconds fade into minutes as he lays in wait, his consciousness slowly fading. "Damnit not yet. Not yet. I'm so close." No sooner than had the thought raced through his mind that the door is kicked open. In the darkness the muzzle flashes illuminate the room. One. Two. Three. Three of them. He takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger. Blood flows from the enemy's head like a fountain. One down. He refocuses his aim and pulls the trigger. The clashing of metal on metal rings through the air as the enemy takes cover. A bullet lodges itself into the ground less than a foot from his head. He pulls the trigger and sprays a shower of lead and powder in the direction of the enemy as he starts to stand. "I'm not going to die! Do you hear me you bastards!?! I'm not goi.." He's cut short as the lead burrows its way into his chest. His body falls in a heap to the floor; a marionette that has played its role. He can feel deaths cold touch as it caresses his body. He tries to speak but he can't make a sound. A deep blackness overtakes his mind. "Do you wish to live?" A voice sounds out through the darkness. "Yes." He replies. "Even at the cost of your humanity?" The voice questions. "Yes" he replies. "Very well." The voice bellows "You will be the start of something grand. Do not disappoint me my child." A flash of white light consumes him and he's back in the room. The enemy is tending to their fallen comrade, they don't notice as the blood stained corpse rises from its grave. A dull blue light clashes against the blood and sparks fly. His eyes glance down at the auto rifle lying in pieces at his feet, the metal coated in his own blood. He reaches for the knife on his belt and the room is consumed by azure light... Hope those of you who took the time to read this enjoyed it. I get bored a lot lol