posted on Oct, 30 2004 @ 06:34 AM
The soldier stood on the charred ground of the battlefield somewhere in Poland where hundreds of thousands perished – except him. The bodies of fallen
comrades and enemies alike littered the field. Mangled bodies lay strewn across the blood drenched crimson soil. Slabs of metal, the remains of tanks
and jets, taken down with missiles, house their lost pilots and crewmen. Everything else slaughtered by firearms, nuclear weapons, and for some,
things as primitive as knives and swords.
The soldier’s name was Private Scott Reynolds. He had a medium build, a light complexion, and black hair. His country, the United Earth Alliance, had
been at war with the Unuscon Empire for twelve years now. The UEA was formed by the United States and a good number of other nations in the UN to
combat the Empire that had been formed by Iran, North Korea, and other generally disagreeable nations. Their original leader, Kim Jong Il, reined for
ten years before assassination, and, after that, their replacement and current leader was Emperor Behram Behruz, an Iranian militant leader. Katharine
Brown currently was the President of the UEA. Scott had been drafted into the army a year ago, after high school.
He began to wonder how he survived. The blast had induced a bit of amnesia and headache, and began to recollect his thoughts.
Who am I? Scott Reynolds. Okay, at least I got that down. How did I survive? Must have been that thick steel door in the bathroom. What is the
date? October 24, 2018.
As he was trying to remember everything, wandered the battlefield for a while, and saw the death and carnage that lay around him. One deceased
Imperialist had his face beaten in with an assault rifle. He was probably about twelve years old, as Imperialists are trained to hate and kill at age
seven. The fractured skull lay open and bloody, brain fluid dripping into a small puddle. A UEA soldier lay next to a bloody rock, his limbs mangled,
presumably nearby an initial nuclear blast and blown this far away, and the blood more than likely his. He found an Imperial sniper near a cliff. His
back lay in two, his spine drained of fluid. Another comrade lay beheaded nearby, her organs mostly on the outside. Her stomach acid had made a small
hole in the ground, her intestines wrapped intentionally around her torso, heart bleeding with a dark crimson pool beneath it. Scott stared into the
red pool. He saw his face, sad, but expressionless.
That second something snapped. As if a safety line for sanity broke, he put a demonical grin on his face, and began laughing. He heard the corpses of
his fallen allies laughing, too. And the corpses of his enemies whimpering. He fell to his knees, laughing. His mind warped into a mere shell of its
former self; he felt a strange need to kill. An instinct long forgotten was remembered. Anger allied with his madness, and his heart began to beat
faster, and faster every moment. He felt a primal rage to get revenge, to destroy his enemy and eat the remains. He reached out to sanity, but his arm
was maimed. He decided on, nay, he swore to get revenge. He swore to avenge the death of his allies, his enemies, his sanity, everyone. He would kill
the Emperor, but he wouldn’t stop there. He’d kill his wives and children. He’d kill his mother and father. He’d kill the generals. He’d even decided
to kill the President. The world would erupt into chaos, and a wave of doom would smite all.
So he pulled a corpse out of a hovercraft and went around the battlefield collecting food, water, and weapons. The only thing he needed now was
backup. So he rode off towards London to ask an old friend a favor…
To Be Continued…
I plan to add zombies, supernatural powers, and other similar things to it later.