Scrapper

I took a beating...the big man leaned over me as I spat blood onto the concrete and said 'Now listen scrapper, I got no problem with you. But that was a lesson that there's always somebody better than you, and I did that to show you that this is the case'.

I could feel the cut above my right eye oozing blood into my vision sending it red and it stung.

I squinted it shut, as the drill sergeant continued the lecture.

'So, you're never going to lose again are you soldier?. ARE Y O U? He yelled, landing a swift kick to my ribs which I felt crack.

Falling to my side I laid my arm across my body automatically to protect from further kicks if they arrived.

'We have made you into one mean machine soldier, a goddamn motor scooter to the eight degrees of fucking Kingdom come'.

' DO Y O U HEAR ME? He yelled again as I said back ' Yes Sargeant'.

' YELL IT LIKE YOU HAVE BALLS SON!!'.

' YEESSS!' I yelled.

'GOOD' the prick says and leaves me on the concrete nursing fresh wounds.

This is how I was trained, and this is what I thought of when my legion faced the red horde numbered in their thousands on the Salt Land Marsh, in the year of our Lord 2068.