Prologue:
Antonio Castillo was treating his soldier's wounds when he heard noises rustling toward him. He injected a little morphine into his man's leg, praying for a miracle, but was rewarded with the cold silence of nothingness. The blood was gushing out of the man's wound like a broken faucet. Castillo's combat fatigues were already drenched in sweat and dark red blood. He wiped the blood on his pants, leaving a long red smear. The rustling was getting louder. Castillo was going to have to leave. He leaned on his Battle Rifle and used his remaining strength to push him up. His knees cracked from the long period of being idle. Castillo could feel his left leg chafed and raw. It burned like hell, but he knew facing the wrath of a plasma burn would be even worse. He shivered as his right leg awoke from its long "sleep". Paying one last debt to his man, he turned and left the high grass he had been hiding in. Carrying nothing but his light gear, ammunition, and his Battle Rifle, Castillo ran for the safe protection of the nearby trees. The battlefield was seemed so quiet and tranquil. Yet, it was all so deceiving. Behind the shroud of silence was nothing but death and terror. Castillo's thoughts drifted back to his fallen comrade as he ran for the high trees. His man's death had been quick and painless, like a switch had been turned off. It angered Castillo deeply; many things angered him nowadays. That man had been one of his extreme followers. Castillo stopped near a thick tree trunk and squatted down, mourning for his fallen soldier.
Gloria al Padre, y al Hijo, y al Espiritual Santo. Como era en el principio, ahora, y siempre por los siglos de los siglos…
…
Various gunshots rang out in front of him, shaking him out of his depressed state. Castillo shook his head, loosening out any kinks or ill thoughts that had accumulated over the past few hours. Human screams ripped through the fog like a sharp knife making Castillo instinctively shoulder his BR-55. He aimed his Battle Rifle toward the direction of the screams. Whatever had killed those humans was probably heading his way and no way was Castillo going down without a fight.
