Ammo Fill

     He holstered his handgun. He snapped his head to the right, bringing his attention to oncoming gurgling and yelling. Cil raised his blaster rifle at a zelkin with a sword in his hand. He stood perfectly still waiting for him to get closer. The zelkin raised his sword and before it had time to swing down Cil took a big step forward and quickly swung the butt of his rifle up into the zelkin's face. It staggered back with a yelp, dropped his sword and held his nose in his hands. Cil dropped his rifle, grabbed the sword and trusted it into the zelkin's chest. At that moment he was tackled to the ground. The three hundred pound tackle knocked the breath out of him. He felt as if the weight of the world came down on him and pinned him to the ground. He struggled and tried to find a way out. “Redman...help.” he managed to say. He took a powerful blow to the rib cage. Cil slurred and choked. He felt the weight suddenly come off him. He spun on his back to see that a soldier had come to his rescue and fought him off. The soldier put a laser bullet in the zelkin's head.

     “Thanks.” Cil said.
“Don't mention it. Grab your gun and watch your ass.” he replied.
Cil did that exact thing. He fought the zelkin's next to his soldiers. Watched both his soldiers and zelkin die. How he never seems to catch the bad luck of death he will never know.

     At times he felt as if his 'good luck' of not catching the permanent sickness of death was a non-stop bad luck streak. It always seems like the world is out to get Cil Redman. After his wife and son were killed by the zelkins during a village raid he joined the Kalham army. It filled him with vengeance. Revenge became a necessity. Killing zelkins in the war doesn't fill the void, though. It doesn't feel as personal. It makes Cil feel like a worthless pawn in the Kalham's political game. Sometimes he felt death would be his only way of finding peace.

     “My rifle's running out of energy.” said a soldier to Cil's right.
“Follow up and don't slack behind.” Cil replied. He ran to the right, through his soldiers. He dropped to his side and slid behind a large rock. His soldier was by his side every second. Cil took the soldier's rifle and pushed a red button on the left side of the gun. A small black ball rolled out of the handle. Cil picked it up and raised his blast shield to see it with his own eyes. Cil didn't need to worry about drops of sweat stinging in his eyes for the soldier's battle suits all had built in air conditioning units. He rolled the tiny ball between his index finger and thumb. He then rolled it off away from the soldiers. Cil did the same thing with his rifle, but when the ball rolled from the gun to his hand it leaves a trail of blue gases. He put the blue ball of gas in the other soldier's rife and handed it to him.
“Sgt. Redman, what are you going to use?” the soldier asked.
“I'll make due with this.” he pulls his handgun out of the holster on his waist.


     “You're a life saver, Redman.”
He rushed out to the battlefield just to run in to a stray bullet. Cil lowered his blast shield to see that the soldier he just helped has now darkened into a lifeless, black, shell of a man. Somewhere a wife has lost a husband, somewhere a son has lost a father. That's life, death.

This is part three to my series Rogue Valor, the whole story can be found here.