A True Angel

May the 4th be with you

I figured that in honor of May 4th, 2023 being the date my story Moncharmin begins, I'll put out a snippet of the first chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The End is just the Beginning

    "We've been hit!" A shout came from the cockpit of the helicopter.

    "No shit!" Campbell yelled back as she lost grip of her camera, letting it hang free around her neck in favor of grabbing hold of the nearest thing closest to her that wouldn't make her go flying off the helicopter and to her death on the ground.

    Sierra Campbell. Five foot Eight, light brown hair that looked almost red in the right lighting, and light blue eyes as bright as the midday sky. Her job is called Mass Communications Specialist, MC for short, assigned with taking pictures and/or videos and reporting on whatever the United States Navy needs. She's basically a journalist.

    Currently, she was on her way to her death. But the mission the Navy gave her was to report on the current situation in Ukraine. Russia fucked up and entered Poland, hence, activating NATO. The US didn't want to enter the war, per usual, until they knew what exactly they would be getting into. So they sent Campbell in on a helicopter despite her objections.

    "Who's fucking idea was it to send an MC into a fucking war with no backup and on a helicopter no less?" She asked the person who gave her the assignment. Nevertheless, here she was. Falling to her death. The one thing that she thought would happen.

    What's even worse is that because they were flying too low to the ground, parachutes were not permitted onboard. No matter what Sierra thought of, nothing worked. They were doomed to die. The drive shaft was shot so they were forced to dive forward to the ground.

    As fast as Sierra could think, the copter impacted the ground, instantly killing the pilot and flinging an unconscious Sierra twenty feet away from the impact. The damage done to Sierra's body was extensive with lesions all over her body and several broken bones.

    Minutes later, Campbell began to regain consciousness only to hear ringing so loud that it was the only thing she could hear. Soon the ringing became a bit quieter so Sierra could hear the goans of her own pain layered on top of the rapid gunfire happening around her. It took a few more seconds for her to be able to get a hold of her own mind. Once she did, she turned so she was facing down with her right arm supporting her so that she could throw up. She coughed a bit before looking up to see a shell of a building in front of her. Hissing, Campbell looked around to her body and found herself bleeding profusely. Groaning out in pain, she forced herself onto her back, still keeping herself up with her arm, and pressed down on the wound that was bleeding out the most. She tried her best not to make sound as she looked to her right and saw the helicopter on fire. The cockpit was completely destroyed meaning that there was no way the pilot was alive.

"Fuck," Sierra whispered, trying to keep her breathing down so that she could at least try to think more clearly.

Just then, an explosion came from the helicopter and just as quickly, Campbell slammed on her back and turned onto her left so that her back was facing the explosion while her hands covered the back of her neck. She yelped in pain as bits of metal cut and got stuck into her back. She knew that there was no way she would survive this. If she were religious, this would be the time for her to repent or pray or do whatever religious people do when they know they're about to die. But she wasn't, so she laid there and waited for her death.

A click of a gun could be heard from behind Campbell. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. There stood three blurry teenagers in camo uniforms. All three guns were pointed at her.

"You might as well leave me kids, I'm already dying," She told them. She could feel her heart pound as white noise and ringing began to get louder. The kids said something but Sierra couldn't understand them. "If you're trying to tell me something, if it's not obvious, I can't understand you. Since you're kids, I suggest letting me stay here and saving your own conscious from killing som–"

The last thing Sierra Campbell heard was the boom of a gun.

Sierra shot up heaving and puffing. Sweat poured down her face as her eyes scanned the black sheets in front of her before looking up at the room around her.

Apart from the bright sunlight illuminating the room, the room's aesthetic was dark. On the opposite side of the room was a dark door.

On the right of that door was a beautifully stained bookshelf. Filled with books and sculptures. From the bed, Sierra couldn't tell what the books were but some of the sculptures she could just barely make out if she squinted her eyes. Among them was a small statue of an Egyptian Sphinx, a small bust of Mozart, and even a small statue of Athena. Replicas, of course. The real statues were much bigger than a bookend.

The wardrobe on the right had the same stained wood as the bookshelf with a detailed design. The wardrobe itself sat as tall as the dark door but could easily be as wide as two of that door side by side. Underneath the doors to the wardrobe were a set of four drawers.

In the middle of the room sat a coffee table, not as detailed as the rest of the room but it matched the rest of the furniture in the room. The couches on both sides of the table had red fabric wrapped around the cushioning and even the bedrest, nightstands, desk on Sierra's left, and vanity was beautifully stained.

"Ah," Sierra exclaimed just as she looked over at the windows. Looking directly at the bright light had worsened the headache she already had. Sierra put her hand to her forehead only to feel her hair, it was long and light waves. Too long. She looked at it confused. Why was it long? How long was she out? Now that she thought about it, how was she–

"Mademoiselle Moncharmin!" A voice exclaimed. Sierra carefully looked over to her left. Two doors were wide open. In the middle of that doorway stood a young woman with very curly red hair that reached the middle of her back. She wore a long black skirt that had ruffles on the end and a long sleeved white shirt tucked into the skirt with a white apron that wrapped around her thin waist and her shoulders. Sierra made eye contact with the green eyed woman as an awkward silence befell the two.