LOG ONE: MISSION FAILURE
"GODDAMNIT!" The captain cried as the sirens pierced the darkness with their song. He faced his forces as the darkness became stained with red and orange blasts and the patter of rapid fire.
"Fall back!!" He commanded, raising his arm out as straight as an arrow before he dropped it dramatically. To Christian the sign was less like a retreat and more like a physical defeat and he hated using it. The young captain quickly jumped off of the stone he had been scouting from, landing on the ground hard causing the dust from the dry land to float around the hem of his jacket. Wasting no time, he cocked his revolver against his glove expertly. The captain ran towards his troops loosing no speed as he turned at the waist to shoot at the infantry that emerged from behind the black gated wall. The gate was wide open now. It has been Christian's mission initially to do just that but quietly. Christian's only flaw lay in not being able to perceive the enemy first. It was as if they knew they were coming. Christian fired his partner. The beretta sent a bullet at the speed of sound hitting one of the enemy soldiers. The solider, feeling the bullet's impact caused him to gurgle, cough and fall before his comrades. The enemy held no pause as they pursued the invaders, tromping the man as they kept pace.
"Fall back!!" He commanded once more, pushing his voice to the breaking point. He projected over the sound of his men falling torn apart by shrap metal as if they were paper dolls, urging them to keep moving. Christian, in the craziness of the battle field, took his eyes of the enemy for one second only. A
blast at his right side had distracted him, and he turned to see the cause but it was it was too late. He was too slow and could only watch helplessly as the shrap metal made contact with his right eye. Christian's
cries of pain couldn't be heard over the blasts from the grenades and the gunfire and for that he was grateful. The captain held his glove over the injured eye in order to stop the bleeding but to no avail. The blood was relentless as ran down his cheek and under his chin, dripping it's essence on his uniform in thick red drops. Christian abandoned his temporary bandage to assume firing position once again. Unable to see with his right eye, the captain could only threaten his enemy with the sounds as he consistently missed his
targets. He could barely hear his men calling as the roar of the helicopter's started.
His men wouldn't leave without him, the idiots. Christian knew better than to try and use his bad
eye, so he stubbornly left it closed. He ran, stumbling, through the dark as his enemy relentlessly pursued as the cries of men and gun fire echoed. He finally reached the field. He could see the helicopter's in the distance, and he knew he only needed to reach one for his salvation. Christian frantically looked
around for any signs of life among the death that lay about the field.
"Shit!" He spat, making his way to the helicopter's. He dared to hope his men had cleared the area of survivors before he had arrived. Ducking below the blades he bellowed at the pilot to fly. He
jumped suddenly, sliding into the helicopter. The act was not graceful or pleasant but at least her was inside and safe for now. Once he felt them leave the ground Christian panted, falling against the floor. All that
running really had increased his blood flow.
'I will have to remember this next time I run laps.' He thought to himself as he closed his eyes and chucked under his breath. His soldiers were demanding he answer them or respond in anyway, fear written all over their faces. Christian tuned them out completely. For the moment, everything was still and quiet inside his own head. After a few minutes the hotness from his eye burned with intensity, demanding attention and he could not bear to do so any longer. At long last the captain opened his eye, steadying himself as he sat
upright. His ears finally adjusted to the noise outside his mind. A hurried collaboration of voices, weapons and helicopter flight filled his ears with their relentless chatter. Christian assessed the situation, annoyed as one of his medics rushed to his side to tended his wound.
"It doesn't look like it is going to do any permanent damage sir." The medic stated, knowing
better than to assure anyone with a guarantee.
"Good," Christian stated. "Tell the pilot to make for base as soon as possible. When we land send a message that I will be needing to speak with my superior right away." He barked, wanting to relay his knowledge. Christian sighed a heavy sigh as his men turned their attentions to travel safety.
Christian could feel himself now moving in and out of consciousness as he let his mind wonder. He had only heard whispers, rumors and terrifying stories about Superior Officer Demosca but that was the extent of his
knowledge. Christian had only the upmost respect and adoration for the man who started the liberation army, though he had not had the pleasure of meeting the officer himself.
'I know this for sure," Christian thought, "I will make one hell of a first impression.'