Many years earlier -

The Royal Expeditionary Knights had been part of the first wave of specialized marines, sent by the British Empire - their drop-pods leaving blazing trails of flaming ozone through the night sky, as they careened towards the surface of the terrorist-controlled planet.

Many of the R.E.K pods had been obliterated by the numerous AA guns the insurgents possessed. In all honesty, the genocidal bastards had only been able to control this lone planet; their attempts on other worlds had been thankfully thwarted by the Empire and its many Allies.

Among the many to take a hit from the enemy's guns, was Second Lieutenant Alex Winters. His pod sent hurtling off course, slamming into others of his unit on the way. Checking the damage to his drop pod, he quickly decided to eject himself - it was either that or risking being liquified upon impact.

Once in freefall, he was in quite a precarious situation. As he fell, he narrowly dodged chunks of debris and shrapnel from exploding drop pods, some hitting him creating large slashes across his black scout armour; unable to penetrate the strong alloy.

Finally, he activated his emergency landing jets - and relaxed momentarily as the thrusters and air brakes slowed his descent; all the while flaming debris whizzed past him.

Once the Second Lieutenant finally reached the ground, he hastily disengaged his thrusters and flaps and made a beeline away from the impact zones; dodging the falling, burning husks of destroyed pods. Their once-living occupants were now nothing more than red stains and crumpled armour, haphazardly smeared across the battlefield's ravaged dirt; their cries of anguish forever unheard.

As he ran, a seemingly undamaged drop pod slammed into the ground not even a meter to his right; sending out an explosion of dirt that forcefully rag-dolled his body across the muddy surface.

With blurry vision, he dragged himself to his feet, his body aching from the sudden impact. As his eyesight returned, he was forced to wipe the mud from his visor, allowing him to see past the tinted glass.

The first thing to catch his attention was the crumpled form of the titanium coffin, a fitting nick-name to be sure. Through its breached hull, a viscous crimson liquid was leaking out; most definitely a mixture of the occupants' entrails and outer body, all crushed into a sickly gooey sludge.

Pulling his gaze away from the sight, he noticed blue streaks of energy being flung back and forth in between the screams and shouts of friendly and enemy combatants alike. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as time seemed to slow, his field of vision narrowing, focusing.

He sprinted towards the carnage, each step bringing him closer to his targets. His breath controlled and articulated; his suit’s air filters working at full blast. Each step vibrated through his body and into his core.

As he ran he noticed insurgents moving to intercept him. Lifting his rifle, he aimed and fired; shooting the enemy in the chest or head, leaving burning quarter-sized holes. Melted armour and burnt flesh created a powerful and sickening smell in the air, only barely cleared by his helmet's filters.

Their cut-off screams echoed through his mind, as he dipped and dodged through the bolts of blinding light. Where they faltered he pushed on, further, harder. The marines he had found covered him as he covered them, trusting in each other's shots.

As the last of them fell, Alex and the other Knights proceeded to the glowing way-point on his HUD. As they moved they gunned down any and all terrorists with no mercy or second thought.

The meters ticked down like a clock, each one a dance with death. As they moved out of the charred fields, they entered into a ghost town. The once prosperous and joy-filled streets were now nothing but a burning graveyard.

Rotting bodies littered the pavement, soldiers and civilians alike. Men, women, children, it didn't matter. Their blood had spilled long ago, no longer a liquid, it had hardened into a near paintlike substance; truly in all senses of the saying, painting the town red.

It was eerily quiet for a long time, enough time to make them second guess the decision to enter this hell. The loud explosions and gunfire seemed to have just stopped. It was so quiet, so eerily quiet.

He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping calming his nerves, reminding him why he was trying so hard to stay alive; so he could come home alive, be the role model little Thomas needs. To be able to go to the pub with Charlie, his second brother in everything but blood.

The very same Charlie that was walking by his side even now, gun up, focused and unrelenting. They moved with conviction, knowing each step could be one step closer to their death.

It was then that the gunfire started. A woman half a meter in front of Alex, her armour scarred, her visor cracked, took a bolt directly to her face. Chunks of molten metal and brain matter sprayed against the glass covering his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

Even though he couldn't see, he knew that standing still was a death sentence. Throwing himself to his left, he impacted the blackened concrete; a hand lashed out, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragged him away from the enemy's line of sight and behind a broken wall.

Wiping the gory gel-like grey matter from his visor, he could see Charlie by his side, firing at the terrorists with deadly accuracy. Coming back to his senses, he pulled his rifle from the ground and popped out of cover, immediately blasting a glowing hole through a young man no older than eighteen.

His eyes glazing over, his body becoming lifeless. It was one of the things he hated most about the insurgency; their ability to turn a malleable young mind and twist it into a monster with no compassion for other's lives or feelings.

“They’re on the roofs! The r-” A male marine yelled into his radio before he suddenly stopped speaking, and Alex quickly looked around. Sure enough, he could see terrorists on various rooftops, about to fire.

He was faster. Alex watched as one of his shots hit a male insurgent, the figure dropping his gun and clutching at the sizzling hole in his chest, before rolling off the roof and landing with a wet thud.

A laser round whizzed past him, and he looked in the direction of the insurgent, only to see them get mowed down by various marines; most of their upper body mass blown to bits, vaporized, and turned to dust.

The ambush had ended as quickly as it had begun, and Alex almost felt sympathetic for the insurgents. They were completely outmatched in terms of skill. Only two Knights had fallen and compared to the twenty-plus terrorists now lying dead with their wounds still steaming, it was a decisive victory.

There was silence, and the marines slowly began to relax, the adrenaline slowly leaving their bodies as the aches and pains of the last hour came back in full force. They moved into areas of cover, to perform first aid or to just take a breather.

He had survived another day in the abyss of hell.

“Come on… come on… harder, harder. Put more energy into your movements! You can do better than that!” Javqua exclaimed as Thomas groaned loudly.

“It’s because I’m short! I’d need to be a whole fuckin’ foot taller to have a chance!” Thomas complained as he failed once again to hit the target hanging in the air; his fingertips just barely missing it. Javqua giggled, and he glared at her.

“It’s not funny,” He grumbled. Javqua was basically on her knees in laughter, a short breath coming to her every so often, the only thing stopping her from blacking out.

“It’s s-it is though!” She laughed, not even trying to contain herself at this point. Bystanders tried their best to move past unnoticed while trying to hide their laughter as well. To think that one of the infamous hellworders was incapable of something as simple as an arcade game.

Thomas took a deep breath, focusing. Using all of his energy, he leaped into the air with all his strength, finally hitting the target that had caused him so much suffering.

“I DID IT!” He screeched, as he fell to the ground. Thomas landed with a loud reverberating thud, and even more bystanders turned to stare. Most in shock that such a small being would have so much mass.

“Fuck yeah!” Thomas screamed in English, as a toy was dispensed from the machine the target was attached to. Others around him were confused by the gibberish leaving his mouth.

The little plushy made a soft thump as it hit the metallic table, its fluorescent pink colour instantly draining the blood from his face.

“Noooo! I wanted the blue one!” Thomas collapsed on the floor, and Javqua started laughing again.