Huge Action Scene

    1^st Recruit Patters stared down his scope with a sense of dread.  He knew he was to be the ‘bait’ of the operation, and the thought of dying was carved into his mind.  Although some called him a coward, Patters could always be trusted to defend his country.  Lining up the iron sights, he advanced steadily, cocked his gun, waited.  Waited.  What was only a matter of seconds seemed like a century to him.  A flash of yellow sparked out of the seemingly endless barrel, and a booming sound occurred.  The first guard fell, and Patters knew there was no turning back know.
“Suck on this, bitches,” he screamed, while firing wildly.  Three guards were felled in the rampage, and more ensued.  He stormed into the outpost, and all he could see was red.  The next thing he knew, he was actually seeing red.  Patters looked down, spotting a gaping hole in his stomach. 
“Die, you pieces of shit!”  He unsheathed his combat knife, a non-commissioned sterling silver blade with a mahogany grip, a gift for the recruit’s departure into the Marines, given by his beloved grandfather.  Rushing over to one Seraph, he gored its neck.  He jumped onto another hostile, plunging his blade into the heart of the beast.  After maiming and killing nearly ten of the creatures, Patters finally succumbed to his wounds.  Falling to the sandy desert ground, he reflected upon his life.  A wounded Seraph stumbled to him.  It glared deep into the recruit’s eyes.  Having a broken wrist and three toes missing didn’t stop him from despising the Seraphim; in one last act of desperation, the hero of war stabbed the knife into the monster’s shoulder, missing the throat by a few inches.  The Seraph’s growl grew ever louder; its ravenous jaws opened.  That didn’t matter, though; Patters was satisfied.

    On the other end of the base, the mission was running smoothly.  The few contacts engaged were half-asleep Seraphim with no fighting gear.  The barracks had been entered through the rafters of an old Apollo barn, and no rats were in sight.  That was probably due to the fact that rats were in short supply on distant planets, as ship decontamination protocols kept most non-human life to a minimum.  The idea Leto had was to plant the bomb in the most populated area of the stables, so that maximum damage was caused.  On their way in, he had spotted a sandstorm bunker, which was to be the escape route.

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--Bo