We ran in the direction the chopper fell, and over a hill we found it lying on its side in a smoking ruin. I walked toward it, pistol in hand, just in case anyone was left and they tried to get hostile.
The door took a moment to pull open, before it fell off its hinges entirely. I climbed into what remained of the helicopter, looking around. I managed to find a few magazines, plus a canteen among the bodies. That seemed like a step up.
Then I heard a piece of metal being shifted, and knocked onto the ground. I turned to see that there was indeed a survivor. He was hurt pretty bad. Covered in cuts and bruises. Blood stained his face. But I still recognized him.
It was Adams.
"Bishop!"
"Adams. It seems you weren't as valuable as you thought."
Adams grunted, clearly in pain but trying to hide it.
"I… did… my duty. I followed orders."
"Orders?" From the same people who told you to shoot your fellow soldiers? The ones that told you to kill civilians and marines? The ones that told you to execute your own teammates when they outlived their usefulness? And you actually thought you were safe from it all. You followed those orders without question, thought you were something bigger. But you're not, are you? At the end of the day, you're every bit as expendable as I was, and now you're just one less loose end."
I drew my pistol, aiming it at Adams' head.
"Do it!" He yelled. "DO IT! Show me who you are. Are you a real soldier?"
I wanted to pull that trigger, but my hand froze. I couldn't bring myself to make that small motion. Everything Adams had done, all my training, and here I was hesitating when I had my one chance at revenge.
I lowered my gun, grabbed the supplies and stepped out of the chopper.
"That's what I thought," Adams said. "You're weak. You're a COWARD! You hear me? A COWARD!"
I walked away. Adams kept yelling, but I ignored him. I just kept walking.