First Feather
The roads of the city carried muddy puddles of ruby red blood. The air was pungent with the scent of iron, gun powder and bodies that were either just dead, wounded or just starting to rot. Not a single alive and unharmed man lay on sight in the field.
The women and mothers of children sat huddling together in a shivering, dirty heap, the annoying sound of children and women alike screeching and crying dominated the air. If Iason Mink was any lesser man, he would've pinched his nose in irritation. Thus, he resided in the comfort of the poker face his colleagues so complimented him about.
"War has done fair damages to them, eh, General?" Raoul Am, his current vice-General and previous batch mate of their youthful days, questioned.
Monotonous as always, Iason answered, "Their real fate won't be clear until Jupiter decides what to do with them." Raoul paused, gazing at a bloodied corpse of a child in slight distaste, before responding.
"Better prepare, things are going to much tougher..." His ruby red cape swished as he turned back to the jeep. Probably going back to their base, Iason mused as dust flew around him from the windy gusts.
His sharp and cold blue eyes glanced at the lot of females and children being shooed into their respective prisoner vans. Many of them hollering at the heavens in despair that their God had not kept their families and themselves safe and sound.
'Peace will never come unless humanity ceases to exist, is that so hard to understand?'
Iason turned his back to the miserable humans behind him. His pale blond hair shone in the hot afternoon sunlight as he hopped on his respective jeep.