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Rated: 13+ · Sample · Thriller/Suspense · #2074820
Short scene that I wrote in a boring class. Will be integrated into my larger project.
Men and women scrambled towards the front gate of the Republic's northernmost fort. It was late in the evening and the panicking scream of a soldier pierced the cold night and drew everyone's full attention. The young panicked soldier sprinted through the small fort, calling for the guards. Half the outpost was asleep, but this was enough commotion to wake many of them up.
The Evening Watch section got to the gate first. The heavy barrier creaked open. The soldiers that ran out, weapons ready, stopped dead in their tracks as they left the gate. A heavily armored Dreadnought shouldered his way through the group, abusing his supposed "rank" and political authority. He may not have been part of their unit, but the soldiers never dared question him.

"Light a flare." He ordered.

Scott scrambled through his pack, following the sharp order but noticing the hint of anxiety and in the order from the normally stern shock trooper. The flare loudly snapped alive, and bathed the soldiers and the snowy road in red light. Any soldiers that made it out to the gate stopped and gawked in shock and confusion. The heavy steel gate stood ajar behind the assortment of men and women, with some more peeking out, partly clothed, but bracing against the cold to see the commotion.

In the road, lit by the blood red flare, and stiff and frosted by the cold night, was a mutilated body of one of their own. The limbs were wedged in an unnatural position, the head removed, and several standard issue Republic combat knives stuck in the neck and shoulders. Blood and miscellaneous viscera stained the snow covered road.The soldiers backed slowly, confusion and fear spreading among them.

The Dreadnought stood silent. Emotionless. Except maybe anger, but he didn't show it. He turned to reenter the fort. "Deal with the body." He muttered, and pushed his way back in.

Dumbfounded, the soldiers looked at each other for answers, and glanced fearfully into the darkness beyond the road. Several clung to their weapons and nervously backed away inside the gate, eyeing the treeline. Scott, still holding the bright flare above his head, stared wide eyed at the body. He noted the knives, the very ones they themselves had been issued.

Who... or what.... had done this to one their own?
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