I would have liked a different begining to my story. I would have rather saved a cat out of a tree or stop a train from falling off a cliff. That would have made for a taller tale then the one I am going to spill before you. Broke, beaten down, and sorry is how I started.
It was just another day not forgiving myself for what happened to my squad. Wallowing in my bottle of Jim Bean, I drew blank stares out the cracked window of my 3rd floor apartment room. My memory flashed to white then black then to vivid color, I could see it all happening for the second time. The first time was too much, why in the hell did I need a second time? Everything was triple checked and extra rations were packed to ensure success.
It was a routine mission, we did these all the time. The only one who was nervous was Pvt. Talahook, rightfully so, it was his first...and last...mission. The supplies were packed and we were on a plane to a classified location. Night fell, our parashoots opened, our fate's were sealed.
We expected flak to try and shoot us down but strangely, none did. I saw this as a sign from the Almighty that we would see the sun tomorrow. As we landed, weapons drawn, more good fortune came our way. No traps, no enemies, like phantoms we dodged and weaved through our terrain. The facility we were to storm had no outter defenses either so taking it should have been easy. I should have seen what happened next comming but the other events let my rock solid judgement down and I lead my team into a trap.
The entire base was a front. Nothing real. To this day I still don't know if the Space Marines knows this. As the hacker opened the service door, my team was snared with electric devices. Running on animal instincts, I evaded them just long enough to get out of reach....
