It's amazing the thoughts that run through your head when shit gets real. Like how many people do you think you've ever met in the course of your existence, all those people who you just said hi to, held the door for, maybe yelled at for no reason. These are the thoughts that run through my head as the first explosion sounds about fifteen feet away from where I was daydreaming. "Get the fuck down!" A voice eloquently shrieks from behind me. The voice, of course belongs to my boss; Lieutenant Fromm. You wanna talk about a stone cold motherfucker, there you go. She survived an attack on her childhood home by a pack of vorcha back when she was ten. Story goes she was found on her own, about fifteen weeks later. Hell, none of us even knows what her real name is, like I said, stone cold. But back to the story, we both ended up behind a truck flipped on its side. Click the safety off on my weapon, an Slightly modified M-8 Avenger. The modifications being a conversion kit which essentially turns it into a light machine gun. Another explosion rips through the open square as we both try to figure out what's shooting at us. I see movement in the building across from us "Tangoes, 2 O'clock high" I relay into my comm channel as I let loose some suppressive fire. Before ducking back behind the truck. I glance around for the rest of our squad as Lieutenant Fromm gives out orders. What I see makes my stomach turn, three dead alliance marines, one fucked up beyond all recognition. "Shit" I breathe to myself "What's the plan boss?" I hear our last other surviving soldier; Ramirez, asks. Lt takes a second to ready her answer I guess this would be a great time to introduce myself. My name is Sergeant Miles Edwards, I was born in New York nineteen years ago, went to school, did alright. Nothing very notable so far except that I fought a lot. All the way through high school, I thought might as well make a living off of it. I also grew a lot in those high school years, to about 6'5 and I wasn't a beanpole either. But eventually I joined the alliance and got assigned to the unit sweeping abandoned cities out in the traverse. For recolonization or whatever. It's boring work, but boring in this line of work is good. Lt finally gives the order "Fall back! Miles, give us some covering fire!" I pop out of my cover and let the weapon spit at the building as the rest of the squad falls back. I duck as I hear a bullet ping off the metal next to me before ceasing fire to reload "Reloading!" I shout through the comm channel. I turn and look towards where they're all meeting up, and seeing that all but me are accounted for, I make a break for the cover. Here's another one of those moments I was talking about. That brief moment of peace inside a world of chaos, the little light in the dark. This is what I'm thinking about as I'm sprinting towards the concrete roadblock, as I see the shell arcing down, see it land and detonate, see the look Lt gives me as she is vaporized in the explosion. I'm knocked back, as If a giant fist hit me in the sternum and threw me against a building, knocking me out cold.