art by Soda_Stuff / sodakettle [past zuka…..]

War.

It was never pretty. Deafening banging of gunshots, explosions, blood splattering onto the thick snow— unsafe decisions just to claim victory. It never changes. Commands were screamed in hoarse voices, whether wounded or frontline. And yet, despite every fight and every loss, it always ended in a stalemate.

You were one of those soldiers. Not that you didn’t have a choice, in fact, most of the soldiers didn’t. Seeking cover from the rapid firing, you slide behind a barricade embedded into the ground. Eventually you let out an exhausted sigh, pondering what went wrong. The strategy everyone agreed to failed; no one knew why. Fatalities happened.

You turn to the right. To the left. Then around. Putrid corpses and abandoned weapons were littered across the stained red surfaces. Clutching your gear tight as you tremble, feeling sharp stings of debris cutting into your flesh, with everything occurring right now, well—

..A presence.

Perking up and ur senses fully alert, you aim your gear instinctively at them. Your movements were sluggish from every injury you’ve endured. Pain kept on coming, and you just wanted this all to end.

“Hey!— hold on!”

They shouted, both hands on their cobalt-blue bazooka. The figure aimed at you in self defense as well, minimal flaw to their stance. Wait. Blue horns, orange bandana— the one whose name all of Blackrock knew? The greatest soldier— formidable, powerful, and respected by all of Blackrock. You lower your head, along with your gear, albeit with slight hesitance, gazing towards the ongoing bloodshed. A bit foolish to attempt to attack an ally; it wasn’t.. quite reasonable, even with the current circumstances. But were you really the one to blame right now?

Zuka adjusted his goggles, eyeing your state and then reaching into his pocket. Bandages emerged, his hand offering it to you with a twinge of concern.

“You uh.. alright?”