Anonymous:
"Your muse is fighting along side a team of your trusted/loved crew members/team/squadmates, and they watch them die in the same explosion. How does your muse react?"

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It always began and ended the same way, didn’t it?
His successes tasted sweet only vis-a-vis the pain of the loss that had preceded them.  Victories were meaningless without sacrifice.  Accomplishments meant nothing without struggle.

Why, then, did another piece of him fracture and crumble as he watched the hellish glow of the explosion, blaze reflected in the chrome of his armor, the twin mirrors of his eyes.  His face showed nothing.  Not sorrow, not anger, not surprise.  Time stilled — and then went on forever.

His hands clenched at his sides, helpless…until he raised his rifle once more.  Damned be this galaxy and the people it had taken from him.  Every shot, every kill he took with a coldly renewed vigor reclaimed a spirit that he had loved.  His family.  His friendships.  His comrades in arms.  He would grieve later.  For now, numbness and steely resolve had settled over him.

He fought this war for them.

September  12   ( 3 )   +
HW