An explosion. Another one. And then another after another hit the ground throwing up geysers of mud. In the trench, Thomas held his helmet as tight to his head as possible as cold wet mud slid into his shirt. The twigs on the sides of the trench buckled barely holding back the dirt walls from crushing their inhabitants. Thomas felt his eardrums almost tear themselves apart as the sound of a nearby explosion drove him to his knees. He felt himself collapse to the cold soft muddy ground and begin to shiver. Soldiers past him throwing up mud with their boots caking Thomas up. It had been years. Years! Years he had spent in these stinking trenches. Years he had spent in this hell of mud and blood! Years he had seen people all around him die horribly. He could still remember the men drowning on dry land as their lungs filled up with their own blood. Men drown in endless seas of mud. Men looking at their hands blister in front of them and scream at the top of his lungs. Thomas struggled to get up and yet his legs refused to obey him. He searched and dug in the mud for his rifle but he could not find it. He sat himself up on the side of the trench covering his ears in an attempt to ignore the explosions all around him but despite this, he could still hear himself screaming. After what seemed like eternal agony and suffering the explosions stopped. Thomas felt his legs again as he staggered to his feet. He was treated to a scene of craters and smoke.

"That was close" A voice muttered next to Thomas. Thomas turned around to find a British soldier staring out into the destruction. His face was still young and unscared. He probably hadn't been here for a long time. The boy looked at Thomas and saw the tears that had been running down his face. "You alright-"

The boy was cut off as his head jerked sharply backward and his body crumpled into the floor of a trench. Thomas dived to the floor as more shots could be heard everywhere. Thomas crawled over to the boy and looked him in the face. His face was now pale and his eyes staring at the ever dark sky. Instead of pondering this sight Thomas clambered over the boy's body and reached for only one thing, a pistol half buried in mud. Thomas reached forward but the pistol was just too far away. Thomas could now hear feet struggling through the sea of mud not to far away and made one last desperate reach for the pistol…

Tracer felt herself emerge behind the tank centerpiece. She could hear the tanks armor crack as reapers shots bounced off it. She popped around the corner to fire off the burst but felt herself thrown back and found herself gasping on the ground. She looked at the device on her chest crack and flicker from it's bright blue to dark red…

Thomas squeezed the trigger as the figure appeared on the cusp of the Trench. The figure could only muster a mutter before collapsing on top of the boy. Thomas struggled to get up as he felt his shoulder was smashed apart by a distant rifle round. Thomas swore before collapsing to the floor of the trench clutching his shoulder. He looked at the mud he sat upon turn from black to blood red. He could hear more voices coming closer to the trench. He tried to check the ammo in the pistol but his arm couldn't move. Another figure appeared on the cusp of the trench before joining the pile of bodies at the bottom of the trench. Thomas kept his pistol in the air waiting for the next man to walk into the trench but felt what seemed like a rock hit his head. It landed on the floor of the trench and the moment Thomas looked at it he closed his eyes and waited for the end…

Winston struggled to his feet but he was forced to the ground again by the clanking boots of reaper stepping on his head. One word came from the mask, "Die"

The device on Tracers chest was getting brighter and beeping more often…

Thomas felt strange. Was this how death felt like? Thomas couldn't even describe what he felt just… strange. It felt like he was in many places and nowhere at the same time. He felt like he was stretched and being dragged through the mud. He dared to open his eyes. The landscape was grey, bleak and pockmarked, and in the distance, Thomas could see a blue planet camouflaged by cloud cover. I'm on the moon, Thomas thought. It was beautiful and breathtaking. Certainly, breathtaking as Thomas tried to breathe but could not find air. He screamed but it could not be heard. Suddenly he felt like he was yanked back.

"We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender" Thomas could hear this but he could not feel nor see. Wait, no, he had shut his eyelids. He opened them to find himself in a chair. Next to him was a woman staring into the arena below. A man was standing in the middle of the room making a speech. On the opposite sides of the room were a group of benches with men. The man walked around the area between the opposite sides speaking. The lady leaned back and noticed Thomas. Thomas attempted to call of help but all he could muster was a feeble mutter. But the lady heard it and stood up. But again, Thomas felt yanked back.

Now it was just confusing. Thomas attempted to form thoughts but they were jumbled away and thrown into the wind. Sounds and sights came by that Thomas could not comprehend. Alien worlds with strange creatures wandering on their unrecognizable landscapes. But he was treated to one sight that he could comprehend.

A landscape ruined. Creators all over it and the soil long dead. Seas of churning mud. And littered all over the landscape were bodies that were sprinkled all around like a cupcake. Their uniforms, rank, and faces covered in mud and blood. Then the scene shifted and Thomas saw a massive room. The walls were decorated with grand ornaments and the roof was glass that revealing dark skies and rain petering on the glass. There was a long table and hundreds of men in suits and hats milled around it. On the table were dozens of pens but only one document. Thomas found himself now sitting in a chair before the document but before he could read it he felt his chair yank sharply backward and he sunk into the ground screaming. But no one seemed to have heard him.

Thomas was praying for death. Maybe he was dead and this was hell. But something played at his mind. This felt familiar. Too familiar. Like he had been subjected to this torture before. He thought back, which was hard due to the fact that it took great effort to think. He found himself in a green landscape. He was slumped over a brick wall. He found his jaw dropping at the sight of actual living things. The sound of birds chirping could be heard. There was a flower next to him. Such beauty he had not seen for so many years. He reached out to touch it only to find that he was wearing a glove. He stared at it and realize everything was tinted slightly red. Thomas reached up to his face to find a full face helmet. He removed it and stared at it. It was a standard issue fighter pilots helmet. Something he had not seen for a very long time. He found himself standing up yet Thomas did not do that. He felt himself walk along the brick wall before noticing a broken mirror in the ground. He felt himself reach down and pick it up. Just before he could look into the broken shard he blinked for a moment and was gone.

He felt himself once more on what on the cold hard ground. He found himself gasping and floundering on the ground. He dared to open his eyes again. He found himself lying on cold hard marble ground. He looked up. He was in some sort of massive auditorium with a massive glass ceiling. Beyond it was blue skies and white clouds. It was no longer the eternal stretch of grey clouds that poured the water that created the mud that drowned so many of Thomas' friends. He felt relieved as he took in the moment. It had been so long since he had seen blue skies. Suddenly, his hearing came back. It was the sharp cracks of gunshots and bullets smashing against metal. Not again, Thomas thought while looking for a weapon. There! On the white floor was a small puddle of mud and within it the pistol. He grabbed it and tried to check the ammo count. He expected his arm to not work but it did and he removed the clip. He looked at his shoulder and found blood but no wound. How? Thomas wondered. There was no time to answer as the gunshots seemed to draw closer. He found himself lying behind what seemed to a pillar of marble. No, it ended on chest hight and it was holding something. Thomas struggled to his feet to get a long look around but he found himself face to face with what seemed like a massive gauntlet. It was bright golden with five ivory spikes on the knuckles. Suddenly he felt the familiar sound of the cocking of a gun's handle. "Don't move, mon amie." It was French and female. In any other context, he would have felt relieved. But his heart was now beating. He looked at the corner of his eye and only saw the barrel of a gun. "Drop it." Thomas hesitated and the voice now yelled "Now!"

"Calm down madame." He began to loosen the grip on his pistol but smiled as he looked to the right corner of his vision. It was about the size of rock but so much deadlier than one. Instead of dropping the pistol Thomas dove to the ground in the opposite direction of the grenade. He heard the small gasp of the woman as he dove to the ground. She probably thought that Thomas was an idiot and a dead one at that. She was about to squeeze the trigger when the trigger of the grenade finally activated. Thomas had no idea how the grenade has not exploded yet but perhaps luck was on his side. He heard the thud of the woman hit something and metal bounce of his helmet…

The blinking had stopped. Tracer dared to struggle to her feet. She peeked around the corner of the tank centerpiece. She saw Winston laying still on the ground and Reaper triumphantly walking over. His massive gun was now pointed at Winston's head. The gorilla just looked down the barrel of the gun and could only muster a pitifull snarl. "NO!" Tracer yelled leaping out of cover with her two pulse pistol charging up for one rapid burst. She saw her sights line up with the dark hooded figure and pulled the trig-

But nothing came out. Something came out from under that mask. It was a low deep noise. It got faster and faster before turning into maniac laughter. He turned around and aimed his gun. Tracer blinked away at the last moment dodging a hail of deadly pellets. She found herself behind what seemed like a control booth. She looked to her right two find two children cowering behind cover. She peeked over the booth to see reaper snarl before walking back towards Winston. "Come on big guy. You can get up." She muttered under her breath but knew it would mean nothing. Just as reaper looked over the struggling and crawling Winston he prepared to pull the trigger. But, suddenly, an explosion ripped apart a museum exhibit. Tracer saw the purple figure of widowmaker slam against the wall and go limp. Reaper hesitated for a moment as a man next to widowmaker stood up. Tracer looked at him. He was wearing what seemed like a brown uniform of some sorts. He wore a helmet that looked like someone had overturned a soup bowl and called it a helmet. Reaper had also noticed the figure but the figure had not noticed him. Reaper lifted his gun and aimed but at the last moment Tracer yelled, "Look out!"

Thomas heard the voice and turned around. It was just enough for him to avoid the hail of pellets. But not all of them has he felt one smash into his neck. He jerked back slightly and took a step back. He saw a dark figure clad in robes with a mask covering his face standing over what seemed like a giant gorilla that was taking a damn nap! Thomas ducked behind the ruins of the pillar as another shot barely missed him. He held his hand up to the neck and found his hand covered in blood. What the hell was going on? Thomas popped up over cover and popped off a shot at the clad figure. It seemed to hit his mark as the figure seemed to disappear in a cloud of black smoke. Thomas stood up and looked around the black hooded figure was nowhere to be seen. Then what seemed like a sledgehammer smashed into the back of his skull. Thomas was driven to the cold hard ground. Everything around him appeared in pairs and was blurred. He struggled to form thoughts in the head as he tried to crawl away from his assailant. But he felt a cold hard metal boot smash into his sides. Thomas turned over clutching his right side as he felt his warm blood on his hands. He felt what seemed like metal gauntlet clutch around his throat. He tried to scream for help but nothing more than a wheeze came out. He heard the rapid sound of boots running towards him as his hands dragged at the coarse black robes of this beast. Thomas stared directly into the metal mask. It was cold hard steel shaped like a skull. Where eyes should have been was now just pitch blackness. The steps seemed to close in but were stopped by a hail of gunfire. Thomas dropped his hands to the ground as the grip around his throat became tighter and his vision and thoughts became more blurry. His hands searched for salvation along the marble floor and he found something. It was cold metal and felt like it was shaped like a bowl. Thomas gripped the age and with one final push of all his energy smashed it into the beasts face. It flinched slightly but it's gripped was loosened allowing Thomas to take one more breath and with it one more burst of energy. The creature was thrown to the side as Thomas gasped. Oh, precious air. I'll never take you for granted again, Thomas thought. He searched his belts with his hand. There had to be something. Thomas felt a handle before yanking it out. The beast came into view again. It was on its knees clutching its head. Thomas turned over and with all his recovered strength shoved it into the side of this thing. It penetrated the robes and then the skin with a sickening sound. It screeched loudly and the figure dissipated into smoke once more. Thomas could hear the sound of a metal cable being winched rapidly. He stared into the blue skies. What a sight. What beauty he had not seen for so many years. What a fitting sight to die to. Thomas felt himself submit to the sea of darkness and his head go below the surface...