These Wars Of Ours {MiniStar/Sidepack AU}

War

Bullets spilled across the open land like rain, creating a river of blood to flow if it were to ever touch a humans flesh.

The smell of gunpowder was so strong I could feel it inside me, feel each spark of dust go down my nose and filling my soul. I started to fire aimlessly into the crowd, my fingers hovering over the trigger as I continuously shot, destroying everything that came into my path without a moments hesitation, although from what I could tell I had hit almost nothing.

I saw the first blood. The first kill. I heard the scream, the horrifying scream of someone who was faced with death, and watched as he sunk to the floor in agony. The scarlet liquid was flowing, gushing out of his chest and drowning him, if he wasn't already dead, and then it stopped. No screams of pain, no talking, the steady rise and fall of the mans chest has stopped, and death had claimed him only a few feet away from where I was crouched. And the sad part was that I pried my eyes away, not doing anything and not even finding out who's team that man was on. He could have been one of my friends, one of the many people who I wanted to protect, and because I couldn't see his face through all the dust and smoke I didn't bother.

A few bullets fly right past my face as I lean out from behind the building I'm hiding behind, the bullets whizzing so close I can hear them scream as they fly by me. They're screaming, yelling out for my blood as they barely miss my flesh, causing me to go back into hiding. I start to hyperventilate, my breaths becoming shaky and uneven as I hear more screams by my left side, their screams of help and pain becoming embedded into the very depths of my soul. I can't do this, I wasn't made for this. I don't think I ever will be.

I look over to my right and see Preston shooting away, his aim almost perfect as he hits someone advancing towards him. They fall over, scarlet blood soaking the ground where the man lays, and Preston quickly moves positions. I don't think he can handle seeing the bodys, and frankly neither can I.

A group of people are in the barricade in front of me, all of them unfamiliar and obvious to the fact I'm there. They all stand with their backs turned to me, in perfect range of my gun. I slowly bring my gun up to aim, quickly scanning the area around me to make sure no one else was doing what I was about to do to someone else.

And if I'm perfectly honest, if they hadn't done what they did, I don't think I would have shot them.

I can see it before Josh can. He runs right by their barricade, his footsteps causing a small dust cloud to pop up by his feet. He's obvious as he takes cover behind a wall, right in percent shot of them. I see them all aim, and before I can do anything, the deed is already done. All three of them rain bullets on the unsuspecting man, more bullets needed piercing his fair skin and staining it with the crimson liquid he needed to live. He was dead before he hit the floor, his face a mangled mess of blood, while his chest is just as soaked. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed he had drowned in the crimson liquid it was that bad. I feel sick, and the scent of blood and the sight of my dead friend causes me to start to gag.

They seem to celebrate, although it doesn't last long. This time there's no pause, no hesiataion as I get ready to shoot, aim as best I can to shoot through them and cause them just as much pain as they caused Josh. My aims not the best but it does the job, and one by one they all sink to the ground, falling victim to the madness of war. They took down Josh and what was left on his family, and now, I'd was no better.

I wish I had time to mourn, to at least check on Josh's body for the slight chance he's alive, although it'll do me no good. I'm already suffering as it is, blood being poured on my hands as I kill more and more people while I still have the audacity to keep my own. And besides, there's no time to mourn on the battle field, no. Someone must have picked up on where my shot came from by now, seen the men I killed fall to a heap on the ground, them to getting ready for vengeance such as I had. No, mourning was a suicide mission, and at this point, I wanted to live.