Bullets flew past my head at the speed of light as my feet churned the sandy ground.
My vision was blurry, and I was just barely managing to dodge the bullets that were flying so harshly at me.
I hid behind the farthest building at Rock Reels, and slid down the wall.
I always knew I wouldn't be cut out for the battlefield. Jones had always been confident in my skills though.
My eyes were stinging with sand, but they were gradually becoming less blurry as I pulled myself together.
With my Assault Rifle in hand, I pulled myself on top of the building, and began spraying bullets at all the I.O guards in my sight. The Seven Sentries had already began pushing I.O back, to the point that they were nearing their retreat.
We were so close to winning. I reloaded my gun with a click, ignoring the stinging of the multiple bullet wounds I had already gotten on my shoulder and arm, and shot remaining I.O guards into the ground.
We had won.
The Seven Sentries all went to the medics to get their injuries checked out, while I looked around the bodies littering the whole POI.
My eyes paused on one, with much higher tech armour, also the other person who befriended The Seven with me.
My brother. Laying dead in the sand.
I kneeled next to him, pulling him closer while trying to blink my tears away.
"Lou?" I whispered, shaking him. The tears started falling. "Lou.....w-wake up," I begged. "We are so close! So close to freedom!"
I could already feel that he was dead, and from the cold of his body, he must've been one of the first to fall.
"You're back, (F/n)," The Foundation noted as I walked back into The Sanctuary. "How did it go?"
"Fine!" I snapped, a little more harshly than I intended. "We won!"
"Where is Lou?" The Imagined called as I walked through the exit of the room.
"Dead," I growled.
"So that's what all this is about?" The Foundation questioned coldly.
"Found!" Jones cut in. I didn't stay to hear the argument that was seconds away from beginning.
I slumped in my chair, staring at the two red bullets on my desk. The ones that I had picked out of my own wounds, to be precise.
"You're injured," Jones commented softly, closing my door with a click as he walked in.
"This is war. Everyone is," I growled back coldly, clenching my fist against my desk.
"Yes, but everyone else goes to the medic," he murmured warmly, walking forward enough for me to notice the cloth, bandages and disinfectant in his hands.
"So what if I don't go to the medic?" I grumbled, trying to push back the tears in my eyes.
That's what I had been taught growing up.
Don't cry.
Crying is weak.
"If you don't go to a medic," Jones mumbled, laying the soaked cloth gently on my shoulder wound. "You're stuck with me instead."
I huffed, tilting my head back to blow in his face.
"That's fine. As long as you don't kill me," I grunted, leaning closer to his face with a playful smirk. I placed a quick kiss to his lips. "Just think of all that blood on your hands."