His eyesight narrowed, and the edges of his vision went black.  All of his focus was on one point; his entire life was depending on that one moment.  Three tracer rounds arced over his head, the high-pitched whistle burned his ears.  He fell onto his stomach, legs and arms stretched out in a prostrate position.  As he rolled to the side, the ground erupted were he had lain only moments before. 

The gunfire ceased as he rolled backwards and onto his feet.  One man stood before him, fumbling with a clip to his rifle.  He ran at the man and leapt, feet first.  In one powerful kick the man was disarmed and unconscious.  After retrieving the weapon, and finishing the reloading process, he stared down at the sleeping man, and aimed, mercilessly, at his head.  Bang!  The single round shattered his skull, and obliterated his brain.  Jim spat at the corpse, the mix of blood and saliva dripped of the remnants of the man’s face. 

Foot step, pitter-patter-pitter-patter…   Jim spun on his heels and aimed down the hallway.  Three more soldiers stormed into the room, iron sights trained on Jim.  Brattaaaaah…  Jim held the trigger back on his assault rifle unleashing a cavalcade of automatic fire upon the three unfortunate soldiers.  Luck was against Jim as the rounds impacted harmlessly on their bulletproof vests.  The dim lights in the room flickered and the ceiling shook.  The soldiers looked up thinking the room was about to collapse.  Jim seized the moment and dove off to the side of the room.  He finally had time to process his surroundings.  It appeared he was in some sort of supply room.  Spare parts to jets were scattered haphazardly around the room.

Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling giving the room a discolored appearance.  The only thing standing between Jim and the soldiers was a large wooden box.  This time luck was with him.  The trio hadn’t seen him fleeing, and was now searching, cautiously, for him.  A shadow preceded its owner, rounding the box.  Jim let out a burst of fire into the opponents face.  There was a soft crunching sound as he hit the ground.  Jim retrieved the man’s combat knife from his leg holster.  The lights flicked again.  This time they didn’t come back on.  Knife in hand, Jim slipped away, into the shadows.  Jim left the room a minute later, his knife covered in blood.

Something moved to block his path as he exited the room.  A man, shaking from head to toe with utter fear, stumbled in front of Jim.  Before he could even react he had a knife wobbling back and forth between his eyes, like a pendulum. 

There was a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard, coming around the corner.  Jim blinked twice.  In the dim red emergency lights he could see his newest enemy, and quite possibly his last.  Jim could imagine himself at a wrestling match.  “In this corner we have a new competitor: weighing in at 1000 lbs at only four feet tall, encased in a titanium steel alloy, this new opponent may prove too much for our beloved Jimbo.”

The red eyes of the robotic sentry burned holes into Jim.  Their hatred was pure and eternal.  The robot leveled its main weapon, a 50 cal. Machinegun it wielded like a pistol.  There was a blinding flash as it opened up on Jim.    He was already gone by the time the sound waves from the gunshots reached him. 

The rapid fire followed him like a plague, chasing him from wall to wall of the narrow corridor.  Jim thought to himself, Damn the effective placement of equipment.  In this skinny hallway this sentry could kill just about anything.  Its 50 caliber hardly ever failed, and where that couldn’t succeed its secondary weapon, a flamethrower, did.

Jim reached the man whose face still held the knife.  He grabbed the hilt of the combat knife as he ran by.  Blood dripped off the handle.  Again his vision narrowed to the point where all he could see was the enemy.  A mix of adrenalin and training coursed through his blood.  Fire and fury smite his opponents, he was in his element.  His movement was a blur as he sprinted from wall to wall.  In no time at all his erratic zigzags had brought him close enough to lick the dented metal frame. 

A few tubes protruded out of the metal armor.  Jim struck out at them as he passed by.  A mix of napalm and propane gushed out of the severed appendages.  Jim kept running as he past the sentry.  The 50 caliber opened up again.  Only one round escaped the chamber.  The highly flammable liquids caught from the spark.  The flames that shot out from the explosion encompassed the entire corridor.  Shrapnel from the robot’s frame was thrown in every direction.  When the smoke finally cleared there was no one left standing.

That was partly true because Jim was lying down, under the body of the dead man who had taken the brute of the blow.  A few fragments of steel and whatnot had found a few gaps in his cover but, he was overall all right.  The knife was still clenched tightly in his hand, his own blood intertwining with his enemies.  He thought of a blood pact.  No more where they allies.  Now… it was his turn to stand up and fight.  It was his turn to speak his mind.  Now it was time to think for himself.  “I won’t be pushed around any longer.”

A rush of wind swept through the corridor.  The cool breeze reminded him of how this all got started.  Almost two years ago today.  What an ironic twist of fate.  Jim thought.