Status: I'm really not sure about this. :s
Black
Two
Now Marcine was angry, angrier than she ever thought to be. She hadn't remembered running head first into enemy lines with a new-found energy, especially without a weapon. But this deep in she didn't have much choice but to fight like she knew how. She wasn't supposed to be on the front lines like this but the consequences didn't matter. She was dead anyways. She was just now after years, gaining her superior’s favor and her comrade's respect, but now, she saw red.
The man in front of her, beneath the helmet she saw the fear in his eyes from the wild look she had and it further fueled her hunger to raze the camps and everything else that had some semblance of them until just ashes of forgotten men scattered to the winds. He hands steadily lifted a gun. Marcine raised her hands in pretend surrender and stepped closer until the barrel was felt flush against her forehead, cold and metal. She smiled like a wild beast. Manipulate, manipulate. "I wasn't scared the first time, and I won't be scared the second."
Her hands held the barrel and she taunted him to try her, "If you do believe THIS bullet of yours will stop my soul's fury you are sadly mistaken."
She gritted her teeth and pointed behind him. She wanted to get back there, where the big portions of the opposing soldiers were. "Take me there.”
Even shaking his grip was iron on the pistol but she had an unstoppable rage and the tables turned to her favor with a quick punch to the throat. "Well, let’s try again. Take me there now."
He hesitated again and she shot before he could lead her there-- the noise alarming the men on either side of her. Usually she would have thought more rational, been more calculating and meticulous about how to go in. She growled, and elbows the man on her right before he can turn to her, shooting him as a rush of pain came in contact with her arm. She could feel the hot metal inside her left forearm and leapt at the thing behind her-- realizing by the weight of her pistol that it was empty and deciding just to bash the woman's face in with the back end of it.
She spent what seemed like forever carving through enemy lines. She was reacting like a mechanical being. Seeing her acting so fearsome bolstered the morale of the lower ranking men. She was high, exhilarated, soaked in blood and sweat as she watched a man squirm beneath her and whine under the steel-toed boot pinning his injured arm down. Marcine twisted her heel into the injury and beat him with already bruising fists.
The man in front of her, beneath the helmet she saw the fear in his eyes from the wild look she had and it further fueled her hunger to raze the camps and everything else that had some semblance of them until just ashes of forgotten men scattered to the winds. He hands steadily lifted a gun. Marcine raised her hands in pretend surrender and stepped closer until the barrel was felt flush against her forehead, cold and metal. She smiled like a wild beast. Manipulate, manipulate. "I wasn't scared the first time, and I won't be scared the second."
Her hands held the barrel and she taunted him to try her, "If you do believe THIS bullet of yours will stop my soul's fury you are sadly mistaken."
She gritted her teeth and pointed behind him. She wanted to get back there, where the big portions of the opposing soldiers were. "Take me there.”
Even shaking his grip was iron on the pistol but she had an unstoppable rage and the tables turned to her favor with a quick punch to the throat. "Well, let’s try again. Take me there now."
He hesitated again and she shot before he could lead her there-- the noise alarming the men on either side of her. Usually she would have thought more rational, been more calculating and meticulous about how to go in. She growled, and elbows the man on her right before he can turn to her, shooting him as a rush of pain came in contact with her arm. She could feel the hot metal inside her left forearm and leapt at the thing behind her-- realizing by the weight of her pistol that it was empty and deciding just to bash the woman's face in with the back end of it.
She spent what seemed like forever carving through enemy lines. She was reacting like a mechanical being. Seeing her acting so fearsome bolstered the morale of the lower ranking men. She was high, exhilarated, soaked in blood and sweat as she watched a man squirm beneath her and whine under the steel-toed boot pinning his injured arm down. Marcine twisted her heel into the injury and beat him with already bruising fists.