I crouched behind the fallen log as a burst of plasma scorched the air behind me. I instinctively stuck my Assault Rifle over the side and sprayed the whole area until “Tck, Tck”, it clacked empty.

I peered over the edge of the log and saw my attacker writhing on then floor like an upside down roach. I walked up bearing my M6 Magnum Pistol. I stared into the Grunt’s pleading eyes, and I felt kind of bad as I burst two holes into its head. I never liked killing but it was what I was trained to do. I merged into the shadows as I followed the trail of blood and bullet shells.
As I rounded the corner, I picked up a signal. It was the Marksman from Bravo Squad, “Anybody! Help! We’ve been ambushed at the end of the river by the waterfall…” I didn’t have to hear more. Half-sprinting, I reached the mouth of the river as a soldier picked up his wounded comrade and limped backwards while the single group of three Grunts and one Brute slowly advanced. The Brute shot a volley of spikes that penetrated the soldier’s thigh and finished off his wounded comrade. By then I was already aiming at where to throw the grenade.
The group didn’t hesitate when a small dark object landed a few feet ahead of them thinking it was a measly rock thrown at them in anxiousness of the only survivor left. Just as they were over the “rock” it exploded, showering the ground with blue and light purple blood. A single Grunt had survived the explosion. I watched in disbelief as it ran at the lonely soldier and slashed at him furiously. By the time my round of Assault Rifle hit home the soldier’s torso had been carved out like a pumpkin.

Again the dying Grunt’s pleading beady eyes stared at me, but this time I didn’t hesitate in pulling the trigger I was actually glad to see the raggedy hole in the center of its forehead.