Supreme Magus - Mogar

Heavy gunfire from all angles rattled against Murdoch's eadrums, forcing him to hide behind cover and pray that it holds up. The pungent smell of bloody iron and gunpowder filled the air, irritating his navel while he nimbly reloaded his weapon.

Swapping one mag for another with blistering speed, Murdoch inhaled a sharp breath and edged out to take a pop shot at one of the encroaching hostiles.

Unloading one from the chamber, the bullet sped through the air, only slowing down the rip a hole an unknown man's chest. The victim never even had enough time to express his shock before a second slug tore through his neck, choking down the scream with his own blood.

That was all Murdoch had time for before he was suppressed with a barrage of high velocity lead that scraped away at the ageing stone walls edges.

As enemy bullets carved away at his position, Murdoch pulled a M84 stun grenade off his vest and quickly primed it.

"Flash!" He loudly yelled over the gunfire, warning whatever squad mates still remained of the flashbang.

Sending the grenade down the dimly lit street with a low underarm throw, Murdock waited for the ensuing flash of light and the bang that came after it.

For a fleeting moment a bright white light lit the area up, illuminating the walls and windows enough to see the finer details which were easily missed in the dark.

Following the dull boom, Murdoch speedily backed down the street dashing from cover to cover and lighting up any hostile that was unlucky enough to be disoriented from the flashbang.

Filling his heart with dread was the lack of fire coming from his side. He never had to go around to know what happened, the answer was clear as day.

More of his brothers in arms have fallen.

--------------------

Never did he expect this mission to be the death of him and his squad. It all happened so quickly.

When he split off with the scouts to do recon he should've known something was wrong. It was too easy, everything proceeded in a near perfect manner, the targets barely deviated from their typical course which made it easy for us to get into position unnoticed.

After several hours of reporting movements back to the main group, we spontaneously lost contact with the squad.

Moments later, the scouts were helpless to do anything while mortar fire shelled the squads last known location.

The Comms were jammed, preventing chatter from getting through. Worst of all we couldn't even get in touch with HQ for reinforcements, damage control was the best we could do for them.

With a heavy heart, Staff Sergeant Murdoch pulled the trigger on unknowing victims that happened to come within his scope's lens.

He tried his best but there was nothing he could do to prevent the destruction of his unit.

When the gunfire stopped, he knew it was over for his squadmates. A chilling sensation drowned his prone figure, he'd lost comrades and been on failed missions but this was by far the worst one yet.

Out of the sixteen man squad, only a quarter remained deep behind enemy lines.

Suppressing the feelings of anguish and pain that threatened to burst out and impair his decision making, Murdoch signalled to the rest of the scouts to retreat. What followed was a painfully slow evacuation, where every step he took reminded him of the soldiers that weren't returning.

His soldiers.

The thought gnawed away at his heart, right up until the moment they were caught by patrolling troops.

A stealthy get away was no longer an option. It was time to fight their way out, gambling their lives, and the odds heavily skewed in death's favour. The scouts were outmanned, outgunned and out of luck.

-------------------

Murdoch rushed over and slid behind the pile of collapsed rubble that was once a house. Once out of the enemy's line of sight, he reloaded his weapon and glanced a look at one of his remaining teammates.

At least, what was left of him.

Murdoch's mind went cold as he watched fresh red blood flood from the soldier's still, lifeless body. An entry and an exit wound, the latter much larger than the former, left gaping holes on each side of the man's head.

Bits of bone and brain matter mixed with blood were splattered across the cobble, painting across the stones a gory reminder of what the bullet did to his long-time squadmate and friend Jack.

With every accumulated death, the harder it was to keep his mind focused. Today had just been too much for his wary psyche to handle, and confirming Jack's death was the final nail in the coffin.

He blankly stared at his friend's corpse, ignoring the rabid shouts of men and the banging of their weapons in favour of wallowing in the despair of his impending doom.

He always knew he would eventually meet his end in the field, he barely had a life outside of the army anyway. Not long after his mother died he packed his bags, enlisted and never looked back.

After two years of service he applied for special forces, and after a rigorous few weeks he managed to pass the selection process. Then it was just mission after mission for years, with minimal break in between, so the chances of death by natural causes was slim.

A stray bullet, a loose grenade, even being stabbed would've been better than the hell he's in right now. Watching everyone around you bite the dust one by one, while knowing it'll be your turn soon.

It feels terrible.

But that's just how life is. You can't choose when you're going to die, but you can damn well choose how.

Snapping out of his worthless self pity and mustering up what little courage he had left, Murdoch started letting loose grenades left right and centre.

A horrible ringing sound played in his head as the world around him deafened. His eardrums were torn to shreds from a series of thunderous, close proximity explosions that scattered shrapnel and body parts around in equal amounts.

Murdoch's ears were wet with blood as he scavenged Jack's body for leftover explosives, after checking he was left with only one remaining grenade.

Cursing at his luck for what seems like the umpteenth time today, he spun around and put his remaining bullets to good use. Not one was wasted, each of them were fired through their respective targets, adding on to Murdoch's already high kill count.

When his gun started to produce a clicking sound, he slumped back down next to Jack's body. He couldn't hear his enemies approaching but he could almost guarantee that a new batch of them were closing in on his position right now.

He leered at the grenade for a few more seconds before deciding to go out with a bang.

Literally.

Priming the explosive, Murdoch closed his eyes and laid his back against the rubble, pressing the grenade against his chest. Filled with a bitter emotion, his body was consumed in a flash of light.

All he felt was a rapid jolt of pain that left as quickly as it came, before being swallowed up by a peaceful sensation that brought serenity to his mind.

The stress and misery that consumed him just moments prior vanished without a trace. Whatever state he was in right now, didn't allow him to feel such emotions, he was locked in the tranquillity of the present.

…

..

.

That intoxicating feeling lasted until his consciousness suddenly reformed itself inside a body with no limbs.