I sort of got a kick watching my fellow warriors (as I have come to consider them) as they realized that they were dead. Anger, acceptance, disbelief. I myself wasn't hit too hard. I had prepared myself to die plenty of times throughout the war. Mostly I just felt dissapointed. In fact, I was slightly relieved that there was an afterlife, as opposed to just an end. This feeling conflicted with the realization that it may be an afterlife, but not necessarily a pleasant one. This was Hell after all, not Heaven.
Meanwhile, the Devil (as he called himself, I didn't see any hooves) stood there gazing at us. I couldn't tell if he was planning what he was going to do next with us or, more likely, enjoying the idea of it. I thought I saw a smile playing at his lips.
I ran my hands along the smooth wood of my rifle, enjoying the comforting and familiar feel. The gun always gave me a feeling of power and safety. Thinking about my rifle made me think about the other people's weapons. There was everything from axes and swords to familiar rifles to stranger looking guns...I realized they were probably from the future.
Interesting.
It looked like the Devil may speak again. I stopped daydreaming and paid attention.
...
How am i making fun of the accent A And B I'm in a differnt part doing different things and it said there could be 2 people from the same thing so there we have it
