Note: this is a work of fiction, with all the usual stuff about copyright and permission. It’s also a work in progress and a way to develop my knowledge of the english language. So feel free to correct, debate, laugh, ask about it in the comments. Help appreciated.
You may find the prologue here.
Chapter 1 is here.
Chapter 2 is here.
Chapter three.
Every fight is nothing short of a chaotic mess.
My first battle on this planet was no exception to the rule. The attackers forced themselves through a gap in the thin line of defenders, five warriors wielding short swords and oval-shaped shields crossed the ideal line of the front and started running to the center of the field, right in my direction. Bad mistake. I was ready for them.
The first shot got the forerunner in the left eye, he was dead before his spasming body hit the ground. The noise of my Beretta was deafening enough to cover all the other rumors for a moment but my hope for a frightening effect lasted for just an heartbeat. So I continued to shot down the swordmans, the second one got a shot in his throat, the third and the fourth two bullets in the upper torso. The inertia of the fight was mine so I walked to the front line, pumping more bullets in the direction of the attackers. In a matter of few seconds they panicked and retreated, leaving more bodies on the ground.
Everybody were looking at me, a bunch of battle-weared men and women almost too tired to go on fighting. A quick esteem gave me the figure of twenty-one fighters still standing, barely enough to stand shoulder to shoulder in the rock gap they were defending. About a quarter of them got medium lenght swords, two of them were equipped with single blade axes and the others wielded short swords. All of them were blonde haired, just like our enemies. A closer look to the dead showed me little differences between their equipment and the set of my newfound buddies.
A civil war? They didn’t use any uniform or insignia, so for me it was quite difficult to understand what were the reason for this fight. It was high time for a personal check. All I got for my gun were two more 14-bullets clips, not a big deal. What more? My personal talisman, a WP grenade. It was a huge bonus for sure. Then I put out of its sheath my out-of-rules knife, a 15-inches long Bowie. When my allies saw the steel blade all of them looked terrified, one started babbling until the lady who received me slap him in the face.
«Lady, what’s the problem now? You have no fear of a gun and now they get scared by a knife?»
«It’s not a normal knife. It’s the steel that scare them, it scares me too.» Her pale face was under control but she simply can’t keep her eyes off the Bowie.
«I don’t understand what’s the problem. You’re not afraid to fight, you got blades of all kind here.»
«Follow me.»
She guided me to the body of one of our enemies, a poor bastard who were barely still alive with a deep gash in his chest.
«Finish him.» Her voice was barely audible.
It was a matter of mercy. I got him right in the heart, a fast lunge to stop his pain. I was wrong, in the worst way possible. I will never forget what happened to that man.
Angelo Benuzzi 
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