[He fires without hesitation. He only makes sure when he aims that there's no ally around that could be hurt if he misses or something. It's just an instant in which he stops shooting, a brief no-noticeable instant.
One enemy, a soldier without a helmet or protection in the head. Maybe they forgot it, maybe they lost it in a previous battle. It doesn't last, the bullet hits them, breaking into their eye and going deeper into their head. The soldier falls, most probably dead.
But they aren't dead. They are yelling, a heartbreaking shriek that haunts nightmares. They hold the wounded eye, crying in pain, yelling. How can a human being make that sound, how can sound transmit so much pain. The soldier is in pain, its eye, the bullet hit them in the eye. But it wasn't a bullet, it was a ball from a model rifle and it wasn't a soldier but a kid. A little kid, shrieking in pain, holding her eye.
Why? Why is there a little kid in the middle of the battlefield? How did she get there?! It... It was her fault for being there, right? It wasn't his fault!
Again with making up selfish excuses.
No... This is a battlefield. It is in the middle of a war, can't you see? Can't you see the bodies of the soldiers?
But there are none... It's not that there aren't bodies, there are, covered in mud and blood. But they aren't soldiers. They aren't enemies. They are... His friends, dead, gun wounds in the corpses.
What... What is going on?
He looks up again at the girl screaming in pain. It's a little girl but it's not just any little girl. That long blue hair, that voice... Rika.]
no subject
One enemy, a soldier without a helmet or protection in the head. Maybe they forgot it, maybe they lost it in a previous battle. It doesn't last, the bullet hits them, breaking into their eye and going deeper into their head. The soldier falls, most probably dead.
But they aren't dead. They are yelling, a heartbreaking shriek that haunts nightmares. They hold the wounded eye, crying in pain, yelling. How can a human being make that sound, how can sound transmit so much pain. The soldier is in pain, its eye, the bullet hit them in the eye. But it wasn't a bullet, it was a ball from a model rifle and it wasn't a soldier but a kid. A little kid, shrieking in pain, holding her eye.
Why? Why is there a little kid in the middle of the battlefield? How did she get there?! It... It was her fault for being there, right? It wasn't his fault!
Again with making up selfish excuses.
No... This is a battlefield. It is in the middle of a war, can't you see? Can't you see the bodies of the soldiers?
But there are none... It's not that there aren't bodies, there are, covered in mud and blood. But they aren't soldiers. They aren't enemies. They are... His friends, dead, gun wounds in the corpses.
What... What is going on?
He looks up again at the girl screaming in pain. It's a little girl but it's not just any little girl. That long blue hair, that voice... Rika.]