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save what one canBuilding lay in shattered pieces, walls barely standing chard with the scars of fire. The sky was blacked with thick black smoke. The ground was blood red with the ashes of million lives. The small town was burned to the ground, everything slaughterer. human bodies blacked, wild dogs feed off the remains string parts cross the streets. Gagging from under the heavy helmet the new recruit shielded his eyes "oh dear god"
standing in a wide formation Barret stood in front "Damn that some fucked up shit" he said holding his nose Cloud stood beside his friend scanning the horrid scene. With the search and rescue team horrified number 6's com-channel winked to life. " Barret, Cloud come in...any survivors?..come in"
Cloud shook his head transferring the communication-com over to his chest "none yet sarge"
"damn it then what hell are doing standing around?"
Barret growled "turn that damned thing off". Cloud nodded "Cloud out" he said. The com went dead.
need to know onlyHeading to the main gates of Midgar, Arya
faded back in to the living world, the deep pressure
relived its self off her chest while black thick shadow
bellowed fourth from her jarred mouth, lungs filled
with fresh air.
Tacking her slow sweat time walking
a man jogged past, huffing and whizzing heavily.
The smell of salty sweet came from the him. His
solid gray T-shirt crumpled and folded on itself
from the wind flowing past, and hie black pants
tucked into her black leather boots. Military ,
Arya figured but she really didn't care
the man looked over his bear like shoulders,
making some eye contact with her, skidding to a
halt he gazed upon her with a half smile "Major?"
Arya looked to Rage "yes," she spoke quietly.
Rage could barely talk clearing his throat he smiled
again "MMajor w...what a surprised seeing you here
..alone" he studded rubbing the back of the thick neck
Arya arched an eyebrow " who are you again?"
asking politely with wonder
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More