Okay, I don't own the people in the story, though I guess I could since I mentioned no names but anyways: Hope you enjoy, guess who I'm talking about!
The sharp staggered gasp of pain was a world shattering sound. Hot blood puddled on the floor, the world's pieces lost in the dark, an alien hand pale and spattered with vivid dots of red reached in front of the clearest blue eyes that couldn't see as yet another uniform dropped in the blood soaked sea.
A worried face stared prettily at the television. An old thing it was, wood and the antennas stretched and bent to their limit to catch any scratchy bit of signal. The news was crackling in with the newest news in central and as of late, a killer had single handedly been killing ranking officers. Down to the rank right above private, leaving the new recruits to live with painful memories, the body count was getting higher, and then a picture of the carnage left behind made the worried face turn stone cold and horrified. The bowl and spoon clattered to the floor along with the woman whose whole existence had been burned and unlike the phoenix, from the ashes she could not rise again.
A nameless soul, a man whose existence was carnage and loss, a person who had to hold to life by the tail and take all the kicks that came along with it. A person, whose job, once robbed of a body made for battle, was to pick up people that had been lost and loved, their blood dirtying his hands as he passed them along. The last blue uniform to pick up in the field rested in his hands and among the ribbons of achievement a green pin that held only a engraved W. spoke volumes to the man who caught the tiny thing deftly before it hit the ground. He spoke to the dead, "Someone, loved you a great deal," was all he said, and in reply a tear made its way down the pale dirty cheek of the soldier felled in battle to be soiled in the pool of blood underfoot.