[chvxnov-blog]

“You remind me of someone I once knew.”

Meaningful Sentence Starters — Accepting !

Shadows obscure her face (of features he assumed were once beautiful, but now lay lined with exhaustion which adds years to her shoulders). He says nothing himself while he fights sleep across the train seat from her, hands on his lap tightly clutching a crinkled enlist’s cap. He hadn’t paid much attention to her as they shared the space, not until her blood red lips parted to make small talk.

“What ?” having not fully processed her words yet the Russian responded with an arch of a brow. Then slowly his lips peeled back into a toothy smile, lining the corner of his eyes with crow feet right before he erupted into a restrained chuckle. It contrasted harshly with her solemn look. “What a shame. My condolences.”

There is no use in delving into why; the looks, what few knowledge a stranger can grasp about your personality in the few quiet minutes they spend by your side. He doesn’t delve into the boiling rancor, neither on his offensive tongue that’s more defense to a soft underbelly than anything else. She doesn’t know and can’t know about this.

Unless she meant know by the passionate burning hater towards Germans, whatever else she compared him too was of no importance. Everyone was broken in the end. And as her face lights up under the filtering moonlight he reclines himself, still chuckling, only to glance outside at the blurry scenery of a field.

[chvxnov-blog]

Starter call !

Or you know…send some meme prompts

I cleared all I owed and have no replies or anything so give me something to mess here please. Length will vary ! If you have issues with a starter feel free to message me. I won’t get mad ! I keep saying this and will keep saying so: If you can’t work with a starter tell me so I can change it. Or we can plot. The least I want is for you to have something you don’t like rotting in your drafts, or for me waiting for months for a reply wondering what I did wrong. Lol. Communication is key. Trust me, I’ll more than gladly change stuff or plot so we both can have fun and hey, maybe be friends. So yes…lets do this ! 8D

[gott--mit--uns-blog]

Hellsing Ultimate Abridged Starter Sentences (ep.1)

Some NSFW content

☩ ❝ Hey, _____, do you have the target? ❞

☩   ❝ Well, better take the shot, you’re letting _____ get away. ❞

☩   ❝ Going to miss it! Going to miss it! ❞

☩ ❝  Hey, _____! Hey! Hey, _____! ❞

☩   ❝ There! I took the fucking shot! She/he’s dead, there’s blood everywhere! ❞

☩   ❝ …Oh, you are just a treat. ❞

☩   ❝ Now, I know what you’re thinking: “How did all this come about?” Well, it all started on a midnight stroll through the woods. The air was clear, the moon was full. I was dying to sink my teeth into something. Get it? Because I’m a vampire. Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha… It’s funny. ❞

☩  ❝ Everyone else is already dead. Except this little tart. But trust me, I still plan to kill her. ❞

☩   ❝ But before I can do any of that… I’m going to kill you! ❞

☩   ❝ Oh? See, that would be intimidating, if you were… well, intimidating. ❞

☩   ❝ Gr-r-r, are you mocking me?! ❞

☩   ❝ Oh, no, no, no, no, no… Pfft, yeah! ❞

☩ ❝ Well, that should about wrap things up here. ❞

☩   ❝ Oh, yeah. Forgot about you. Sorry about that whole “shooting you” thing, but I know if you look deep into your heart, which is currently all over that tree, you’ll find a way to forgive me. ❞

☩   ❝ Awww, geez, you look like a puppy. A blonde, eviscerated puppy. ❞

☩  ❝ Christ! Fine! I’ll help you! But only because you got nice tits. ❞

☩   ❝ So, that’s your field report? You went on a walk through the forest at midnight. You killed a homicidal vampire priest. And then you turned someone into a vampire, who happened to be a big tittied– ❞

☩ ❝ Yes! It’s like I didn’t just get through explaining this. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do. ❞

☩   ❝ What “things”? You don’t do “things”. ❞

☩   ❝ Yes, I do. I take enthusiastic walks through the woods. Very enthusiastic walks. ❞

☩   ❝ And kill homicidal vampire priests? ❞

☩  ❝ So you broke into the house…and you shot him thirty-six times? …You need to stop going on walks. ❞

☩   ❝ And you need to hurry up and hook up some god-damned DSL in here! ❞

☩   ❝ Ooooh… I’ve never hunted down a leprechaun before. Do you think if I shoot them with my gun Lucky Charms will explode everywhere?!  ❞

☩   ❝ Awww, come on! I have to bring _____ everywhere! ❞

☩   ❝ Ah-ah-ah! None of the sass! ❞

☩  ❝ Yes, MOM. ❞

☩  ❝ Oh, just try to fucking stop me! ❞

☩   ❝ Second verse, same as the first. Now put me on a plane, so I can put'em in a hearse! ❞

☩   ❝ Hey, _____! _____! This is awesome! You should totally join in! Seriously, there’s like… forty zombies in here! Just one shot to the head and they explode! [gunshot] It’s just like House of the Dead, only like… a hundred times more awesome! ❞

☩   ❝ Fine! I’ll shoot some of the rotten bastards! Can’t be that much fun……Oh, fuck the hell, yes! ❞

☩   ❝ Sweet Black fucking Sabbath! If I wasn’t holding out for that beast of _____, I’d fuck the red right out of those eyes.

☩   ❝ Well… kinda like that, only with less symbolism and more my penis in your vagina. ❞

☩   ❝ Huh?! Suddenly it reeks of hypocrisy in here.  ❞

☩   ❝ Ah, and look at what we have here? A bloody heathen! ❞

☩ ❝ Excuse me, but I’m a fuck-mothering vampire! I’ve killed a lot of people to get this title. I deserve to be called such! ❞ 

☩   ❝ Oh, fuck all kinds of duck! ❞

☩   ❝ You have been chosen to reveal my existence to the world. You will witness what happens here today, and you will tell of it later… except you won’t… ‘cause I’ll kills ‘ya! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! ❞

☩   ❝ Oh, my, brilliant speech… and unoriginal. That’s totally from Boondock Saints. ❞

☩   ❝ What?! No, it isn’t! I came up with it a week ago. ❞

☩   ❝ The only one left here is your sorry pale ass. ❞

☩   ❝ It is your corrupt I claim. It is your evil that will be sought by me with every breath… ❞

☩   ❝ Boondock… Saints. Seriously, you must watch that movie religiously. Huh-huh… get it? ❞

☩   ❝ OK, you know what? Fuck it. Knife. ❞

☩ ❝  Headshot. Well, now that that’s over, how about we go back to my place for a bowl of my favorite cereal, Count Cho- ❞

☩   ❝ Well, now that that’s over, how about we go back to my place for a bowl of my favorite cereal Frankenbe… ❞

☩   ❝ Son of a protestant whore! Well, you know what time it is! ❞

☩ ❝  See… this kind of shit is why I stopped going to church. ❞

☩ ❝  _____…______, you are reading your master’s mind. Put my head between your boobs! ❞

☩   ❝ Now I’m all alone… The only one I had left was you. ❞

☩   ❝ Very good! Now the next thing I want you to do is… put me between your legs! —– God damn it! ❞

☩   ❝ It’s a shame for you lost your head. A careless vampire, who wound up dead. You wore your sin like it was some kind of prize. Too many lies… too many lies. ❞

☩   ❝ What do I do? What do I do?! I… I could try seducing him… wait, no! I’m not an eight-year old boy! SHIT! ❞

☩   ❝ Say your prayers, wee lass! ❞

☩ ❝  That girl belongs to me! ❞

☩   ❝ Well, aren’t you the naughty one? ❞

☩   ❝ Don’t make me shoot you in the fucking head! ❞

☩   ❝ What the hell do you want, you crazy protestant bastard? ❞

☩  ❝ Call yourself whatever you want, you crazy protestant bastard. ❞

☩   ❝ You do know this is a grave violation of our agreement. ❞

☩  ❝ I have no idea what chou’re on about. I’m just here doin’ my job! Killin’ vampires ‘n’ werewolves an’ leprechauns. I never actually found one but do you think if I cut one open with my knife, it would spill out Lucky Charms? ❞

☩   ❝ You done goofed. ❞

☩   ❝ How the blood-soaked protestant hell did you do that?! ❞

☩   ❝ Fuck you, that’s how. ❞

☩   ❝ You know what? I’ve had enough of this. To hell with all you dirty heathens! ❞

☩   ❝ Eat me! Don’t forget to write! ❞

☩ ❝  No, and that’s final! We’ve got bigger things to worry about. Whoever’s behind these vampire attacks… it has to be some kind of large organized group. ❞

☩ ❝  Like the Nazis? ❞

☩   ❝ That would be retarded. ❞

☩   ❝ Gentlemen… ve… are Nazis! Und ve… vill have var! Und ve… und ve… *sneeze*  ❞

[givemeameme-blog]

Meaningful Sentence Starters

“There’s something I really need to tell you.” “I honestly thought that things would be very different.” “Do you wish you could have done it differently?” “What exactly did you think was happening here?” “How do you decide when it’s enough?” “I would die for this cause.” “There are only a few things in this world that are truly important to me.” “Ideals have to count for something.” “Why should I be a nice person?” “This was meant to be easier.” “I have an idea that I need to share.” “Look, you might not like me but we’re stuck in this.” “You remind me of someone I once knew.” “How long does it take people to change, I wonder?” “There are no good choices here.” “There are days I think we’re just in over our heads here.” “How do you keep going when things get hard?” “Are you genuinely interested in me as a person, or is this a game too?” “I care what I look like because I care what people think of me.” “Why did you decide to do it?” “You know what I really regret?” “I’m still struggling to believe any of this is real.” “Are you certain this is what you really want.” “Tell me a dream? Or a secret?” “Do you think you would still be the same person if things had turned out differently?” “What I really meant to say was very different.” “I don’t know if you’ll like what I have to say to you, but I have to tell you anyway.” “You were never supposed to know.” “Why can’t you just follow instructions?” “Why can’t you just ignore instructions?” “What chains you to this life? What keeps you here?”

[splattermemes-deactivated202007]

“Fuck” Sentence Starters

Angry

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Fuck this.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Fuck that!”

“I fucking hate him/her/them/you.”

“Fuck. FUCK. FUUUUCK!”

“Shut the fuck up.“

“Get your fucking act together.”

“Keep your shitty nose out of my fucking business.”

“Leave me alone, or I’ll fuck you up.”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Who stole my fucking shit?!”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“You wanna fucking go, punk?”

“Get the fuck over it.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

Sad

“Fuck life.” 

“No, I’m not fucking over it.”

“Why the fuck did he/she/they have to go and die?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

“Why did things have to go so fucking wrong?”

“I’m gonna eat fifty fucking cartons of ice cream and then pass out and die like a warrior.”

“Try to fucking stop me from leaving my room. It’s not gonna happen.”

“The love of my life just decided that I was worth fucking nothing.”

“I fucking miss him/her/them.”

“Who the fuck cares?”

“All of this fucking shit was for nothing.”

“I fucked up my own life.”

“I can’t believe I did this fucking shit all over again.”

Insults

“Fuck you!”

“I fucked your mom last night.” 

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“You just think you’re fucking hilarious, don’t you?” 

“Who the fuck died and made you king/queen/ruler?” 

“Go to fucking hell, you piece of shit!”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Motherfucker!”

“Wow, that’s fucking small.”

“Get the fuck over yourself.”

Sexy

“Fuck me.”

“I don’t ‘make love’, I fuck.”

“I’d fuck you all night long.”

“You look like a fucking dog in heat.”

“You look so fucking hot right now.”

“Fuck–faster~”

“FUCK, I’m gonna come!”

“I’ll fuck you right here, right now.”

“Babe, fuck–not here.”

“You’re one cocky motherfucker. Let’s go back to my place.”

“I want to bend you over and fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

“F-fuck–please–~”

“I’d let you fuck me any day.”

“You better use a fucking condom.”

“Tell me what you want me to fucking do to you.”

“Do you want me to fuck you while everyone’s watching?”

“Fuck, it’s big.”

“Let’s make a fucking baby.”

Situations

“Give me a break. I’m in the fucking hospital.”

“How are YOU mad at ME when I’m the one who’s in FUCKING JAIL?”

“Help me set this fucking thing on fire.”

“I’m gonna need a fucking lawyer.”

“This is all YOUR fault, you dumb fuck.”

“It’s not MY fault we’re in fucking handcuffs.”

“Fuck, I’m so wasted.”

“What the fuck did we do last night?”

“Where the fuck am I?”

“Fuck. SHIT. There goes my car.”

“Wait–fuck. Isn’t that my house?”

“Fuck it. Might as well have fun, if we’re going to get caught.”

“Why the fuck do you have gasoline?”

“Where the fuck did that baby come from?!”

“It’s not a party until someone almost fucking dies.”

“FUCK, you scared the shit out of me!”

[coldofflesh]

               I will not go down without a fight,                      and I PROMISE to take you with me

[chvxnov-blog]

‘My mother said they killed my brother because his name was Vladimir Ilyich, just like Lenin. The kid was 7 years old. Do soldier’s do that?!’

     Insolent. Tactless. Rancorous. Vengeful. All this describe Misha Chvanov, a Russian soldier who acts as a sniper to a small gang of Russians holed up in a gutted-out building in Stalingrad. ‘He doesn’t talk, just spews things.’, that’s how they all see him. His tongue is sharp, hiding within a wounded still young boy whose mannerisms leave much wanting. He displays no remorse in his kills of enemy soldiers, showcasing a relentless hater towards Germans for their methodical murder of his family and actions throughout the war. /// Currently the mun is trying to be active again and is seeking new partners for threads and interactions. If the typical tragic past, hero-wanna be type of character is your cup of tea why not give this one a try? Unfortunately this is a side-blog and I cannot follow back, but would deeply appreciate anyone whose interested in helping me strike some life back into this blog !

[mordinism]

Visit Original Link

SHAWN JAMES – THROUGH THE VALLEY

my mind and my gun they comfort me, because i know i’ll kill my enemies when they come.

[chvxnov-blog]

@leaveyourhead // Starter call

Bright light flooded Misha Chvanov’s eyes the moment he snapped them open.

The haze of unconsciousness still gripped him hard as his senses slowly woke up one by one. His sight focused to reveal the dusty walls of a darkened building. His ears rang with what he knew was the aftershock of a loud explosion. His body, especially his back, sent slivers of pain across his entire self forcing a loud cough and grunt from the Russian the moment he bent forward. Collapsing forward, the Red Army soldier pressed his sweat broken brow to the cool floor. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, but above all, tried to remember what had occurred. The last he had seen was the tank aiming at them, Sgt. Gromov and himself, during the siege from the German Wehmacht on the building they had held. Then Gromov’s face…above his and then the darkness. Light. A hallway. A man with glasses sitting behind a desk…wait, a man ?

The clacking of shoes soon caught his attention, and he turned his cheek towards it, slapping naked hands upon the hard floor to push himself up; finds it dusty, almost familiar but he knew deep within that this place could no longer be Stalingrad. The movement only causes the pain to increase, running itself over him like an electric current — No. My back…is broken… — his green eyes widen at his own thought. But that was not so…was it…? He had walked across a hall had…the footsteps grew closer, and turning back to its source with a grimace he caught the glimmer of a sword.

"Heh..." was all he could push out with another exhale.

[soldierboynamedern-deactivated2]

That moment that is supposed to decide whether you live or you die. Such moments were more frequent during wars. It feels like the world stops and you are trying very hard not to breath, your head slowly starts to hurt, there is not enough air. As a child, Ernst would experience such moments during hide and seek, he did not wish his friends to find him, he would cover his mouth and stopped breathing until his life reflexes kicked in and he would burst out laughing but this moment here was not a game and he had no choice than give up quite soon. Was he going to turn around and save him? Kill him? Abandon him? Which one was worse?  The rifle, both the soldier`s and Ernst`s eyes were now looking at the gun. Which one would be better? To die or to be a prisoner of the Red Army? He should not forget he was German, the ENEMY. Were they going to cut off his ears as he had heard? But he didn`t do anything, he didn`t shoot and didn`t beat him, he didn`t spit at him. What he did was even worse.  The moment Ernst saw the others coming, he shook his head, ‘Nein, nein’ his eyes wide, he tried to move his body but he could not. What were they going to do with him? What about his ears? How was he going to survive? He wished to ask the soldier but he did not know how. ‘Are you going to kill me?’ he asked his quickly. ‘Please do it, yourself, you’ he pointed at the soldier`s chest. 

[chvxnov-blog]

Chvanov swatted the feebly raised hand that aimed at his chest before it crossed the boundaries of personal space. Having noticed Ernst try to move he immediately grasped him by the front of his uniform— rough, and roughly did he force him up to his weak feet too, least he lose his prey — and for a moment had to fight the urge to grin at the fear that pooled on his enemy’s eyes.

“пет” which means: shut up which means: you’re fucked. It’s hard to tell if he even understood what the man so desperately tried to convey (apart from fear and what he could guess was the demand to be left alive), but judging by the Russian’s dry tone the language barrier between both of them was build high. This would be a game of guess. One thing was obvious for Ernst however, his captor wasn’t up for any type of games within the lines of playing the role of savior, his expression spelled nothing but pure putrid hater. A hater that could have won him his wish if he had understood. Maybe he would have actually delivered him…but he did not. Fate always seemed to work against the wishes of the many.

By the time he had him up Gromov had already entered the room, looking far more exhausted than when they had first stormed in with guns blazing. He knew none of each other wanted the burden of dealing with the German. But between the two, it was clear who was a saint at heart and would rather have him be stripped of the necessary and be sent off in their way to meet their salvation or death in the streets of Stalingrad, and who would eat him alive; because while Gromov removed his helmet to rub his forehead, Chvanov, no longer able to hold back, had begun to smile and laugh like a hysterical hyena. A smile a little too big for someone like himself, the one that always seems to make his otherwise passable features look ugly, the one that spelled trouble.

The hand that had swatted Ernst’s came back to slap at his cheek with a gentle pat. “Look at this. You’re afraid, huh ? What was it you were babbling earlier ? Want to run back to your mama ? Not easy to be on the other side is it...Look at you..."" he mocked him before acknowledging Gromov. "He’s like a cornered mouse. Keh heh heh heh heh. Hey, Maus…look at me.” Coiling his hand on his chin he forced Ernst to look at him for a split second, then lightly slapped his left cheek more roughly, letting go off him with another laugh he pushed him forward.

"Hände hoch !"

No sooner had Gromov thrown the order at their prisoner than Chvanov begun patting him down for weapons.

[igorusha]

Владимир Сафронов - Я вернусь, 1982

[chvxnov-blog]

@wcrdcddy // Starter Call

Holding the flashlight up he flashed the yellow-white light over the map they laid huddled around. The plash palatka blanketing them did a decent job in diminishing the (otherwise) bright flash from any searching enemy eyes within the skeletal city, but as any child clandestinely trying to read underneath their bedcovers past curfew hours knew, it was clear they still ran a risk of being caught. Chvanov’s face was one of placidity however, almost bored, with bright eyes staring ahead at the Sergeant’s face as he spoke while a hand discreetly checked to make sure his knife had not been lost and was still in place; he had yet to truly look at the unfurled piece of paper while the rest continued to explain both terrain and situation through broken English and Russian.

Finding it, his hand dropped again. Then with the same casualness he turned towards one of the Americans to his right — the one he had picked up as having been baptized ‘Wardaddy’ by his fellow crew. That’s when he finally spoke “Then let’s see how good our American comrades here are.” A grotesquely budding smile accompanied the mocking words. Or rather, perhaps, less than mockery or a challenge, the younger soldier expected a man of such a rigidly held expression to harbor the same mutual feelings towards the men across the river.

[chvxnov-blog]

@velichie // Starter Call

It was mid-October and the letter that he kept folding and unfolding was not his. Soon tired of his action he threw it into the small blazing fire to join with the rest of the German-tongued letters. He watched the weak flames lick holes through it, raising his chin to look up when the shaking building rained more loose concrete on them.

Across the Volga the night sky laid lit a bright red. He lit Kraut letters on fire while their Luftwaffe lit fire to their city. Sitting idly their, waiting...watching...

"Bastards are still making progress. At this rate, we are going to end up trapped like rats in this narrow zones. " Chvanov didn't peel his eyes away from the scenery, far yet close. "Reinforcements are late, aren't they ? "And with that he turned back to the small fire, making sure it had build enough to start brewing the coffee while the battle continued in the distance.

[soldierboynamedern-deactivated2]

He breathed, Heavens, he did. He could feel his own chest rising and falling. He could count his heartbeat. Was it too slow? Too fast? His head hurt, the blood pressure was in his brain, he knew he was losing air, he was lying underground, not deep enough to cause him to die too soon, but not visible enough for the Russians to kill him, for fun or just to make sure he was dead enough. 

Someone was going around, searching for the ones who were the lucky ones to stay alive. Those who were suffering, their stomachs bleeding, their lungs making animals sounds, just waiting for Death to gently take them home. Ernst could hear those screams, it pained his ears and added to his migraine. He wanted to tell them to shut up, to fucking die. But he was so weak that he felt like saying a word would be the hardest thing in his life.  The boots were coming, the One that was going around came closer and closer, soon he was there, his boot hit his. He opened his eyes, naively he thought perhaps the soldier was not looking at his face. He looked into his eyes, into his face. The guy had to be around the same age.  ‘ помоги’ he said in despair. 

[chvxnov-blog]

Chvanov had just shouldered the rifle when the German’s eyes snapped open to lock with the green of his own, like Lazarus resurrected.

While he stared the kraut’s mouth rounded into a thick, offensive Russian. The plead for aid was but a whisper, a meek lamb’s cry and still Chvanov’s whole body tensed the moment he heard it. But it was merely an instinctive action. The type that rushes when you run face to face into impending danger, expecting a stab in the gut for your own stupid error of walking right into trouble without taking the right precautions you knew you should have.

Fingers remained frozen in place near the leather strap that now held his rifle on his right shoulder, and while he stood there watching and listening to the kraut his second thought — his second instinctual desire — was to rise his leg and bring it down with force on his face. To end him just like the filth he was, no more or less than a roach. He didn’t go beyond shifting his weight from his right leg on to the left however, and once his senses wandered back into his mind to remind him of civility Chvanov’s jaw twitched in disgust.

Without tearing his eyes from the enemy he called to the others, nose crinkling halfway through the sentence. “We got one breathing here !”

Then he reached for him.

[nxhan]

                   I’m a F I G H T E R       I’ll die not on my knees but standing tall

[chvxnov-blog]

You dream about dead guys?

The Mummy trilogy starter sentences — Always accepting !

Laugther tickles him, but because the woods aren’t safe and their (the Russian’s) voices have often been carried by the wind to enemy lines when they lay drunk, he doesn’t. He snorts instead and holds down a smile that makes his bottom lip twitch from holding both back.

“Nyet. Nyet.” In part, the American Kamarad is correct. Well, unless he meant dreaming about the dead in ways that was intimate.

Make no mistake, intimate meant many things, and when you loose men left and right whom you went through hell it becomes intimate. He’s dreamt about dead friends in the same way he dreams pitch black dreams when sleep does bless him. Sometimes his sister and Vladimir visit him in his dreams too. Often they are benign and mundane. Other times he finds his voice and body useless as he screams and tries to save them from death a tenth time. He wouldn’t discuss those things with anyone. Somethings you just don’t. You keep them inside and clutch to them and their pain. That’s what makes them intimate too.

He eyes Don from the side now, the top row of teeth peeking slightly from his open mouth. “I don’t dream them. I make them.”

[chvxnov-blog]

“That’s called "stealing,” you know.”

The Mummy trilogy starter sentences — Always accepting !

Hands are still clutching the MP-40; has yet to reel it in, has yet to claim it as trophy. The voice behind his back freezes him in place with his fingers tightly coiled around the cold steel of the gun. All he dares to do is look at the figure via peripheral view.

Then he turns his head — tense, probably extremely embarrassed too but pride is a hard thing to swallow and so his lips begin to peel back into a grotesque grin. Chvanov’s shoulders shake when he scoffs.

Fucking bastard won’t be needing that any time soon, both of them know that. (And maybe it will be two Germans who won’t be needing their guns.) But in the moment he is a cornered rat with glimmering biddy eyes and toothy smile, and like a rat he isn’t going to stand still and wait for death without a chase.

Whatever inkling of sanity existed within his head evaporated. In the next split seconds he tugs the firearm towards himself. He wouldn’t rise the firearm further than his chest before he fell to the dusty ground of the skeletal building, by sheer choice or by sheer force. Vision leered as his head hit hard and bounced. The steel helmet saved him from a cracked skull, that was, if he wasn’t already bitten by death elsewhere as he laid on the ground, chocking on ash and the insulting cyka stuck on his throat. He wasn’t sure yet if he had been shot or tackled — by him or another.