Blood splattered on Maxen's face, dotting it with funky crimson red. On instinct, he closed his eyes yet the image of MIB2 blowing his own brains imprinted in Maxen's mind.
He saw something similar before on the battlefield when he joined the military years ago. Those years in the military camp were an ugly reminder for him that there were no victors in war.
At most, those who bear the brunt were the casualties—those who had no option but to hide from the flying bullets or the raining bombs from the sky. They never asked for it, yet they were hauled up in a dark corner, praying for their lives to be spared and for them to see another light of day.
It was also the same time when his eyes opened for the first time as he witnessed countless suicide bombers offering their bodies like lamb for the 'greater cause' by detonating the bomb attached to their chests, taking with them the lives of innocent bystanders.
