There are so few of us left.
The first founding of our battle brothers, belongs to The White Knight and Myself. We added the Asian expert and the Military Veteran. A few others followed in their wake, but none stayed long.
The White Knight went west to do his own thing.
The expert moved away for a time.
The veteran has new past times.
I was alone, until I found Bravo Company.
Commanding officer Arbuthnot, seconded by Brother-Sergeant MacLellan. They led fine soldiers.
We brought war and death to our enemies and we slew them by the dozens.
I recall vividly:
Arbuthnot, providing overwatch of our allies. Brother-Sergeant MacLellan, mowing down the hordes with his belt-fed beauty. Its wretched sound; our music.
Arbuthnot was wounded while assisting our allies.
MacLellan fell after his instrument of death broke at a critical time.
We were pinned behind a transport craft. One of the enemy rounded the corner.
I turned his face to molten gore.
I too, fell.
And just as quickly as we fell, we were brought back anew.
We had lost that battle but had won the war.
I remember the time MacLellan and I infiltrated behind our cursed enemy and slew 8 of them with our blades and bare hands in under 15 seconds.
It was a glorious victory.
Now, a new enemy arises.
This one is young
Too young to participate in such horrors. Spurned on by our enemies of old. Conversions from other walks of life who have been assimilated.
And now, us old and tired souls; us old dogs of war.
...we are going back for more.
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