Just Vengeancemature
Henry Thompson crouched, loading his rifle with shaking hands. He hated the chaos of battle; but at the same time, he loved the adrenaline rush, that burst of energy that hit him as he charged into battle. That effect was now wearing off - the battle had been raging for quite a while already. As he rose to his feet, he fired. A man collapsed, clutching his chest. Henry didn't have time to notice who his unfortunate target had been; he immediately found cover behind a log and loaded another round, then stood and fired.
He didn't see where his shot went. At almost the same time as he had fired, something tore into his left shoulder. He fell, much the same as his previous target had, holding his chest where the projectile had torn into him and gone diagonally up and into his shoulder.
Several minutes later, Henry found himself lying in a hospital bed, with nurses rushing back and forth to similar beds all around him. Finally, a nurse stopped by his bed.
"We've been waiting for you to wake up," she said, with a gentle voice full of compassion.
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