Some people would like to think that the Army was all guts and glory, daring and medals and parades, where everyone was an action hero valiantly battling the next big threat to Freedom or Livelihood or something noble like that. Private Hayes knew better than that, but not until he stepped foot on Pluto. Just like the masses he had big dreams and high hopes of performing his duty as a proud human of the human race, unafraid of the Bulwark menace, ready to lay down his life to stamp out the embers of an alien threat. No one was pretending on the frontlines. It wasn't an action movie. Men struggled, gave it their all, and died without further mention in the most painful ways imaginable or in the blink of an eye. Yet he hadn't seen his first battle yet the cues had been becoming more forthright over the course of his month in boot camp.

Soldiers would break under the pressure to perform and the screaming and the chaos that left no hope. They were all made to be broken down into sniveling wretches and built back up into fighting machines that followed orders without thought. The process was dehumanizing, desensitizing, and developing a group of weak people into something that could fight a war. But at the end of it all they were soldiers. Soldiers, professional war fighters and killers for country. If only anyone knew what the hell they were doing. Darius could [i]feel[/i] it in the air. It had a sort of energy to it. Panicky fear. Urgency. None of it was calm and resolute save for a few men and women with higher ranks, the people that had done this time and time again well enough to live for another go-round. Everyone else was terrified and anxious for good reason... but they weren't soldiers. Not yet anyway, just like Drill Instructor Captain Faraday had gnashed in their pathetic faces. They were frightened, shivering messes holding bags of gear half would die before using and tools of warfare that a handful had ever touched a month before.

That was when Darius decided to become a soldier.

Even if he was just as lost as all the others he wasn't about to pack it in with his tail between his legs and give in to the hopelessness. Everyone needed [i]someone[/i] to look to for an example, and performance is the best role model. That's why their own role models were alive and kicking still. To be a good soldier you need to [i]be a good soldier[/i]. Just do as you're told and you get to take a rest when you're done. Easiest job in the world. The night before Darius had checked and double-checked his equipment, once more when inspection came with the sunrise. He could feel the depression in the air thick like steam as his platoon shoveled down rations no different from the past few weeks. Captain Faraday didn't even slay them like usual. But the hustle was still there, a frantic march to the death. Private Hayes didn't think when he filed in to grab his assigned rifle and ammunition. He paid the fuck attention to what the Cap'n had to say, filing it away for when his brain would turn back on. But it wouldn't be here. As the platoon filtered down the hallway at a hurried jog, shaking and rattling with all their gear, he wore his most attentive stony face as he prepared to do exactly. What. He. Was. Told.

The fresh air wasn't exactly a welcome sight even in its alien tranquility. Rusty silt swept across the barren and lifeless dustbowl, swirling in the wind like a choking cloud. Steel-toed boots clomped in a chaotic cacophony in tune to the Captain's instructions of where to be, what position to take, and what commands to follow for battle. As his platoon entered a loose formation he could feel his battle buddies shoulder-to-shoulder with himself trembling. Darius was stock still, mentally checked out. His eyes set forward Private Hayes's vision wandered in his periphery, wandering over frightened faces of pale and metal temporary structures of cast iron gleaming from the bright blue sun. Which wasn't blue. The sun was yellow, just like Earth. And then his brain turned back on. 

As the sapphire meteor of death bore down on their position broadcasted with a high-pitch squeal Darius broke ranks, allowing his rifle to dangle by his neck by its strap as he swept his arms out.
[i][b][color=1a7b30]"GET DOWN!!"[/color][/b][/i] he bellowed as he took the two men by his side to the cosmic dirt with him. The shockwave shook many off their feet, heaving the ground beneath the company as Darius's eardrums sang shrieking songs from the loud. His meaty arms tensed around his fellow man as his equilibrium rocked, and he forced himself and his comrades into the ground again as the second hit landed with a powerful thrum like the fire of a godless dragon. Darius couldn't hear the words but he felt the movement around him. Like a school of fish. He had to keep up with the rest.
[b][color=1a7b30]"LET'S MOVE LET'S MOVE GO GO GOO!"[/color][/b] shouted the broad man as he took sprung to his feet, pulling the smaller young man to his left halfway up before putting his hands back on his rifle and charging into the mob, kicking his eschewed helmet aside as his feet spun into motion.

The throng of soldiers were nervous and apprehensive, hemming and hawing and hesitating into their places as they took the firing line. Private Hayes, emulating a good soldier, pushed his way to the front to sandwich himself in between two other ranks. He threw himself shoulder-first into the trenches, slanting his body in a firing position over the mounds of loose clay while his heart pounded in his ears. Darius looped his sling around his arm just as he'd been showed and practiced time and time again, pulling the stock firmly to his shoulder as he peered down the iron sights.

It was the first time he'd seen the Bulwark outside of the vids, and even then he didn't get a good look. All he saw was a mob of sickly white being trailed by a dust storm as stray rounds plunked into the earth before the FOB. The man slapped the mag on his rifle, pulling it to make sure it was seated and wouldn't feed wrong. [i]Treat every weapon as if it were loaded[/i]. Darius eased and fidgeted into a more optimum fire position. [i]Do not point your weapon at anything you do not intend to kill[/i]. This time and this time alone Private Hayes didn't listen to Captain Faraday give her heartwarming warm and fuzzy. All he was waiting for were the words he needed to hear. It took an eternity where he let his guard down, wrapping his trigger finger to a comfortable position. [i]Keep your finger straight and off the trigger until you are ready to fire[/i]. He could hear the sniffling over the trudging of bestial feet, the heavy shaky breathing below the clack of rifles and magazines. Darius flicked his thumb off "Safe". [i]Keep your weapon on Safe until you are ready to-[/i]

[b]FIRE![/b]

The air erupted in a chorus of gunfire, choking the firing line with the pungent odor of burnt powder. Darius had anticipated the shot and jerked the trigger, wasting a round. Eager to correct his mistake he took another one before resetting his breath, aiming low and hitting the dirt. The man paused for a few seconds, taking his head off his stock before resetting his firing stance again. Down the barrel of his rifle he could make out the shapes of men. Not men, but demons. He squeezed off another round, this one coming closer but still hitting the dirt. His forth shot finally found his mark though it was incredibly hard to tell. Finding his rhythm the man took cycles of breaths, walking fire into the vicious targets. Breath in. Breath out. [i]SNAP.[/i] Breath in. Breath out. [i]SNAP[/i]. Breath in. Breath out. [i]Ka-chink. ...Click click.[/i] The man took his head off his weapon once more to eye down his weapon and the shine of brass over the bolt. He smacked it hard and shook it yet it would not dislodge. Pausing for a moment with no functioning weapon, he exercised judgement.

[color=1a7b30]"TAG OUT TAG OUT, WEAPON JAM! WEAPON JAM!"[/color] he cried over the din of combat, turning back to the back ranks and grasping on of the timid hangers-on to take his spot. Off the side he huddled down, ejected his magazine, and began to thump his bolt like a madman trying to move the brass and let him get back to work. That's all that mattered right now. Doing as you were told. No matter what.