The heat of the battle was surging through him. A war cry was released yet it disappeared almost as soon as it was created. There was no reason to live this.
A bomb in his grasp was nearing to the end of its life. He looked this way and that. There was no way to get rid of it without it being near his friends.
The battlefield where the battle took place was huge; it was as colossal as the mass of Planet Earth. There wasn’t one square inch where there wasn’t any bullets flying through; heading towards the death of the shooter’s opposition.
He knew that if he moved an inch, he would be vaporized in the line of fire. The man developed confusion, and soon he would give up and let himself perish into oblivion.
Then there was a woman that suddenly appeared several feet away. She was in the line of fire. On that very second when she appeared, hundreds of bullets passed through her. She was a ghost.
The woman wasn’t very old, eighteen or nineteen years of age. She had auburn hair, milky chocolate going down a vigorous mountain trail. The teenager wore a black, leather coat over a green tank top. Blue denim jeans with slits on the knees were worn upon her sleek, slender legs. She had dress shoes on, and black earrings and bracelets that matched them. Her dark brown, beady eyes made all her beauty transfigure into something lethal.
The man’s eyes dwelled on hers for what seemed like forever. But according to the timer on the bomb, only a minute had passed by.
Once he found out that the strange being in front wasn’t real, he gazed upon the stars and prayed one last time.
“Almighty Zeus,” he said, “I, Felix, want you to know that you have chose the right man to be a part of the Heaven’s Angels. The group represented the hope and faith you had for existence even when all the Gods were losing the war between Hades and the others. I am man enough to admit defeat, and I thank you for the opportunity for having me in your aid! My job is done; wish me a grand new life.”
The bomb said “thirty seconds”.
“Are you a being of promise, of word?” he said to the mysterious woman floating gently barely above his area of vision.
“Tell my love, the sweet Emma Jones that I don’t want to see her cry. I only wanted her to be happy. Will you tell her that? You ought to!”
He reached his hand toward hers maybe she can rescue him. They both knew that she couldn’t, and she watched in tears as the bomb finally ignited.
His body was bathed in flames. Bubbles erupted from his body, and he was screaming for his life. The man didn’t expect such a subtle way to die.
The air pressure and the limited amount of oxygen in each square mile of the outer space made Flex glide lifelessly elsewhere.
Veronica witnessed the dead angel’s body drift away.
(Beginning of Chapter 20 of my novel, The Pandemonium Chronicles: The Merge Between Heaven and Hell)
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