For a few seconds, the deserted town almost seemed peaceful. The explosions had stopped, and the dust seemed to cease its never ending fall.

It was in one of these rare moments that gave me a moment to think. I licked my dry, parched lips, and fiddled around with the safety on my Renards. My threadbare shirt was of scant protection, serving little purpose but to maintain some standard of modesty. My boots, long scuffed beyond what any amount of polishing would cure, scraped the gritty road as I leaned against a wall that had not collapsed. My head strained to think, strained to go beyond the adrenaline that captured my mind in an unbreakable embrace that would surely lead me to my death if I did not break free. Sweat... was everywhere. Some people hate sweat, saying that it stinks, it makes you sticky. I had long forgotten what it felt like to be totally, completely clean and refreshed. Everyday I dragged myself on, plowing and drawing through the thick dust of the "town". Or what was left of it, any way. My breathing ragged, I reached behind my boots and pulled out the hilt of a broken dagger. "So much for this 'factory-made' shit," I told myself. "Broke in what, 2 stabs?" I looked beside me, staring at the sword that lay on the road with a mixture of revulsion, and yet respect swirling around in my eyes.

"Only Axium dogs use swords, Lance." A lithe, young female dropped down from where she had been hiding. Her jet black hair, always tied in the back in a short ponytail, flipped around in the morning wind.

"My dagger broke, Rach." I replied in a low, raspy voice. The lack of water had taken its toll indeed, and yet her voice was as melodious as-

Wait. Stop. Travia Gun Fighters do not engage in relationships beyond being that of team mates. You lose too many people a day to even feel sad, let alone engage in anything remotely resembling romance. She threw me a knowing smirk as she checked her own revolvers. Rachel has always known that I have preferred swords from the beginning. Her tanned, heart-shaped face was smeared with soot, no doubt from the latest grenades we had let off.

"Well, let's get going. Razor ain't gonna be happy if we don't take this town by sundown." I cleared my throat and spat, rotating my neck from side to side.

She cracked her knuckles and smiled the same, knowing grin, cocking her guns with a revolving clack. I flipped the safeties off, and in unison, we tumbled from our cover in a blaze of suppresive fire.

How the hell I got shot instantly, I would never know.

I hit the ground and rolled over behind a low wall as gun fire and shrapnel pounded where I was a second ago. My eyes were wide, unblinking, as they stared at the neat holes in my body, slowly oozing blood and staining my dust-encrusted shirt crimson. I gasped a little, as the shock finally hit me- I had been shot. "Aw, FUCK," I shouted, "Lousy-blaargh..." Blood sprayed from my mouth, obviously a lung or 2 must have been hit. Straining to breathe against the fire that then commenced its slow burn across my chest, I dragged myself out of cover, with barely enough strength to shoot, let alone aim.My vision started to blur, and every breath brought with it a sharp spike of pain. I could no longer see anything- it was as though a red mist covered my eyes and permeated my soul. I stumbled and fell, and blacked out.

----------------------------

I saw the Travia Gun Fighter take a hit, and stumble for cover. Drawing my blade with a cold precision, I followed him to finish him off.

It's nothing personal. It's just what Axium commands of its Gun Knights, and I could do no less. My katana, longer than the average military issue and heavier, led the way, as I used my innate reflexes to dash from cover to cover, blocking stray bullets with ease. I'm pround of my katana. We are Axium Gun Knights, we both live, and die by the sword. These new-fangled projectiles seem...crude, to say the least. My feet hit the ground and I leapt towards a wall, striking it with my blade with enough force to propel me in another direction at an inhuman speed. I rounded the corner, and found the scruffy and unkempt Gun Fighter. He bled from at least 2 bullet wounds, the rest I could not see. Funny, I thought, we did not have bullets of that calibre. 5.56 cal, only those who belong to Travia use these projectiles.

In the corner of my eye I caught a slight movement, which turned into a full blown dash that knocked me of my feet, I had barely blocked it when the dagger flashed again, twisting in the dim light of gunfire. I planted one foot firmly on the ground, and swung my blade in a reverse hold, hoping to catch my attacker off guard. It didn't work. Her dagger slid up the blade side of my katana , as she deftly flipped it over the hilt and stabbed me in the stomach. I grunted in pain and dashed up a wall, hoping to bring with me enough momentum to shatter the smaller weapon. I leapt, and crushed the stone pavement in one almightly blow that sent chips of stone flying everywhere. Through the dust, I saw her shadow, and like a coiled viper, I struck. My steel rang true as it ran through her mid-section, and I wasted no time in pulling it away.

Blood ruins fine steel.