The Bravest Coward: Chapter 1
A barrage of artillery poured through the walls of the military base's atrium, painting the surfaces with an amalgamation of bullet holes. "General Chay! General Chay! What the hell is going on!?" Radio silence ensued, with no response from his superior -- his friend. Twelve bonafide, hardened soldiers, present in the open room, exercised due diligence in seemingly futile retaliation, as a single source of bullets could not be clearly identified. The sergeant of the brigade, a white tiger, found a bullet pierced through his refined tribal tattoo running along his left shoulder.
"Sergeant Xano! You've been -"
"Get to safer ground!" The white tiger, completely unfazed by the blood streaming down his body, roared as he glared at his petrified brigade. "Fine! Give up on your lives and yourselves!" The sergeant flinched at the ammunition coming nearer to his body, bracing for further impact. With an irrevocable boom in his voice, he yelled at his still motionless troops. "NOW!"
The unending artillery continued to splice the room from multiple directions, with nothing to be used as a reasonable sheath from the gunfire. The soldiers drew backward, turning to sprint in the other direction down a narrow corridor that led to an interior bunker - streaks of blood along the hallway trailing into the sealed area provided clear indication as to their stationing. Noticing the streams eliciting their location, Xano's lips began spewing aggressive, incoherent mumbling, followed by numerous audible obscenities. Redirecting his position, armed with a silver pistol in one hand, he extended his free arm to seal the bunker's hatch, only to notice three soldiers lying motionless along the tiled floors. Various forms of cranial matter, flesh, and blood spattered against the intersecting walls, painting a life-size portrait of death.
Xano could do nothing but stare at his three lifeless friends, separated from his world. Gunfire hailed into the bunker as he observed their unmoving stances, absorbing his first experience of allied death.
"Sergeant!"
Four soldiers aggressively dragged the sergeant back within the confines of the bunker interior, bearing down the hatches as their superior was brought to safety. Xano pried his eyes shut and shook his head, bringing him back to his very harsh reality. Unprovoked, he braced himself and his team for the harshest briefing of his life.
"I'm not going to lie to you guys right now. No bullshit, not right now. I need you all to listen and bring out the soldier in you that fought for our country before, no fear." His face fell flat emotionally, appearing suddenly unaffected by the violent loss. Gunfire continued to ricochet along the outer points of the bunker's hatch, growing in volume and intensity as the steel slowly failed to absorb the damage. "I would be lying if I said I thought we were making it out alive."
He paused momentarily as a frown began to form along the crevices of his mouth. "General Chay... our leader... my best friend, has not come about, either."
Xano's brigade of soldiers remained stone-faced as he did, taking in the reality that fear absolved absolutely nothing. The sergeant brought himself to the south corner of the bunker, reaching into a darkly colored alcove to toss darkly colored boxes near his men. "That hatch won't hold forever. Grab ammunition and load up your carbines one more time."
Heavy clanking grew in audibility as shells continued to slam along the steel exterior of the miniature armory. The wounded sergeant called out to his team, "Fight the best fight you ever have, because it may be your last." Pointing his weaponry at the entrance to the bunker, one more final instruction was given. "The moment that hatch breaks, unload everything you've got!" No sooner than the command, the metal entrance gave way; with it, a blinding flash of light and an incomprehensibly high sounding pitch overcame the sergeant.
Disoriented, he could do nothing but try to stammer to another location in hopes that he could temporarily dodge any sort of axial artillery. His body was exposed to radiating waves of excruciating pain along his leg and chest, and while his inability to see was a substantial inhibition, his sense of touch had not failed him -- he'd been struck. Accepting his fate, Xano lied still as the pearly whites previously encasing his vision had turned into a mental slideshow of his life, alternating between his post-adolescence, basic training, time spent with his team and general, and his family back home. The ringing in his ears, still prevalent, cradled him to relaxation as his senses slowly began to fail him.