The fighting was real heavy in the corridor. I’d taken a plasma shot straight to the hip that put me down. After laying in the street for god knows how long, someone finally grabbed me and started pulling me to safety. I remember yelling “thank you” over and over again to whoever was tugging me out of harm's way. But then...something didn’t feel right.
When I looked to my left I didn’t see the standard issue boots of a Marine. It was some grotesquely shaped foot. That’s when I started screaming.
Turns out two Jackals had me. I tried to resist but after a swift kick to my wounded leg, I was in too much pain to fight back. They searched through all my equipment, checking the radio for power. No dice. Without a working radio or weapon I was of little use to them. One of them pulled out his Plasma Pistol and aimed it right in my face. I just closed my eyes and thought of home. That’s when I heard two blasts from an M90. I opened my eyes saw what was left of my captors sitting in two crumpled heaps. I never saw the Marine that fired those shots. I just hope he knows how grateful I am.