A torrent of lead hail stormed the stone barriers, chipping away and sending small smoking shards this way and that. All around, screaming bringers of death were flying high and low, searching and twisting like an enraged serpent, before hitting their mark in a torrent of beautiful gore.
The screams. All different, but all for the same thing. Many commanding, many of agony with the tracers ripping through flesh and Kevlar, and many cries of simple defeat and the small last moments as the life left the cold eyes of the now deceased.
How tragic.
In the distance, armored, shadowy figures crackled and fizzed into existence like specters, long pipes with triggers and scopes, known as sniper rifles, shining in the midst of the chaos, bringing a swift end to the unlucky souls who were crossing it's path.
In the air, armored birds, dropping eggs of metal and silver, before imploding in a shock wave of beautiful orange and angered red.
All this, nothing more than the Great War.
"Hostiles 12 o'clock!" This sentence, sorry, command was repeated among the ranks of ragged and tired men and women, all hoping for an end from a rifle, even if they didn't want to admit it.
As clicks and loud balls of fire left metal pipes, customized in order to tell the difference in between killing machines, all sent towards a single direction: away from them.
"AP's! Where's the damn mort-GAGH!" A nearby commander, spotting and shouting out commands, met his demise as a cloud of black and red filled the air, mangled bodies of ragged souls and twisted scrap was lifted and dropped by a shattering force of an Anti-Personnel Tank, the twelve foot long cannon smoking and turning slowly, a shell of bronze ejecting through the rear, mocking the now terrified and raging humans on the receiving end.
Before another 14mm Shrapnel shell could be fired, a red blur swept through the barrel, where it split in two like a ripped paper, the now severed insides spilling out and shining like an injured beast, letting out a growl of anger as it exploded, taking it's nearby allies with it as the four legs crumpled and exploded, sending shrapnel this way and that.
Just like that, time seemed to stop. Emerging from the smoke like the Reaper in all his eerie and murderous glory, the most deadly and beautiful soldiers stood, two gleaming red scimitars in each black, clawed metal hand.
With a sharp, half circle gold visor, an angled helmet with a triangular mouth piece, a slim and smooth body armor, flexible Kevlar and metallic alloys covering in separate plates, and two black wings, shaped like a hawk's wings, and with four high powered thrusters on each one, the arms holding the two scimitars lifted in a slightly protective stance, the blades held in an X shape and the armored legs spread shoulder distance apart.
The Sun's glorious rays seemed to break through the smoke and clouds in those short two seconds, as the rays of UV hit the black suited person, the shiny and slightly dirt and blood speckled metal shining gloriously, the person moved, before appearing in front of another Tank, and then the fighting commenced.
In a blur of black and red, the armored angel of death spun in flurries of elegance and eerily, no sound. Despite the horrific shouts and bright detonations of shrapnel, the armored angel seemed unfazed and everything was immediately silenced within sword reach.
A sniper cracked with a scream, the bronze tracer racing to the head of the angel, but it was split into debris of gold as it shattered against the arm, seemingly more taut then expected.
With a turn, the sniper was brought down with a wave of bright blue erupting from the wrist of the arm that destroyed the bullet, the sounds silent but liquid in a metallic sense, silencing the curses of the damned all around the angel of death.
As silence reined, a deep thump and slow rip of air sounded off, then another, and another. Looking up, the gold visor reflected bright stars heading straight for it, the screams getting higher and higher in octave' with each passing moment, the three mega tons of Radioactive TNT packed into the front of the red heads, quickly descending towards the angel. With a low growl, the angel seemed to glow a bright, brilliant cloak of white, two flaming blue orbs of fire shining behind the visor, lifting the red scimitars up and staring defiantly at the descending stars.
As everything went silent, sans the star' screams, the angel glowed bright, just as the stars hit. As the stars hit, a brilliant white could be seen for miles, as the most bright and chaotic cloud of smoke rose and silence dominated.