"Goodbye Curly Head"

"Cold"

One two, one two.

A shot to the right, a shot to the left.

Split the chamber, throw out the empty shells, let them rot on the snow. No time for proper firing etiquette. 

As they ran deeper and deeper into the very core of the trenches, devils clad in dark attire kept appearing from all angles; above, from the left, right, jumping down into the trenches - all of them being quickly met with a .44 surprise. Ricketts, as much of a coward as he was, had also been a great shot. A few sarkaz swordsmen crawled down from above, plunging into the trench and plummeting to their death as a salvo of gunfire quickly turned their massive bodies to Lateran cheese (full of holes!)

“See any more of them!?”

The boys took a hasty look around, trying their best not to panic. Ricketts stood proud among the beasts’ corpses, letting a fresh batch of bullets into the cylinder, courtesy of a fancy speedloader.

“Puff… Can’t see shit!”

“Stick right by, you notice anything move, just yell…”

And a loud yelling did follow.

“TRENCH CLEAAAR-!!...”

BANG!

All Andy could see was the Sergeant’s coat swooshing through the air as he spinned on his heel and shot from the hip. The source of the obnoxious screaming, one last devil, had just stopped moving atop the trenchline, frozen in confusion. With his crossbow still raised up to his shoulder and pointed at the three, an expression of bewilderment filled his unmasked face. He lowered the weapon and dropped it to the ground before reaching for his forehead and grasping the bullet hole between his eyes, as if to make sure it was really there. He took a glance at his bloodstained fingers and finally came to the realization that a projectile had in fact just entered and left his brain in rapid succession. Down into the trench he went, joining his dead comrades.

The three gathered amidst the corpses, checking all sides for any more enemies. A low rumbling came from the raging sky, somewhere above the outpost itself.

“Sky’s tearing.”

It was a simple statement, as casual as pointing out that the weather’s nice on a sunny day. The red sky had been lit up once more, raining hellfire and increasingly larger chunks of originium from within the depths of its belly. In the far distance, a barrage of bike sized rocks had just fallen on their little hut, crushing everything inside and leaving behind a pile of oripathy inducing rubble. Droz let out a small whimper.

“Nuffer…”

“We’re gonna get Nuffer. We’re gonna get everyone, Private. Vincent, right?”

He immediately woke from his stupor, confusion painted on his face

“Vin-...? No, no, “Droz.” Just Droz.”

Andy turned to the two, looking away from the sky. Vincent? So that was it? 

With the wind on their backs, they kept pushing on, finally making it to a small clearing, where a few shooting stands laid. Among the countless sandbags and a few dead devils, sat a young man, leaning his back against the earthy barricades. Upon rushing closer to inspect his condition, the three found streams of blood rushing down his sad uniform, with a few cuts in his chest and gut. He was still conscious and wary.