Grandeur Defector

XXI: DEFECTOR

He ran out the tent seeing Flippy no longer nearby, being forced to grab a gun to defend.
I know you're concerned but I'll be fine! He wouldn't hurt me here!

Truffles stood in the middle of the chaos, watching as the tiger soldiers began pouring into camp with guns and daggers drawn. They zoomed past him, paying him no mind, as Truffles was one of them and posed no threat. He wore a pelt of blue and lighter shades of the color rather than of orange; the only reactions he was given as his comrades streamed past him were stares of resentment and detest. A tiger soldier shouldered past him, then dipped his head in an apologetic manner for it— although the respect was forced— and got back to loading his gun while running. Truffles stood dumbly in the middle of it all, neither side aiming for him. Somehow, he felt like he belonged on neither side, forever in a lost paradise in purgatory.
I... What is this?
Why do I feel so uncertain-?
Animalia soldiers began rapidly shooting at the tiger soldiers, one of them getting hit by the gunfire and falling to the ground dead, legs breaking from being folded backwards. His gun landed at his feet, firing into the sky and the bullet damned to come down eventually. Another tiger was struck, being gunned down by a machine gun atop the boulders, and landed at Truffles' feet where he flinched backwards. The blood pooled and splattered on his boots, but he wasn't fazed much.
That was blood that wasn't needing to be spilled. I need to stop this.

His eyes were too focused on someone in particular, admiring in bittersweet awe.

My uncle.
Over the rugged boulder was The General, standing above the rest with his golden metal claws and uniform adorned with shiny medallions. Each one told years of war service and hardship, gold plated and polished. His torn black cape, one filled with previous gun fire shots galore, flapped against him loosely like a torn wing off a predatory insect. As if he were a mountain among men, no soldier dared to fire at his figure, for any man who did would have the worst end imaginable.
He was watching his men fight against the Animalia soldiers coldly, like little ants marching towards his goals he craved; he grabbed his silver cocked pistol from his belt. The General aimed it at an Animalia soldier who was trying to take cover; Truffles turned to see who it was.
It was Dell.
For a moment Dell seemed to grasp his fate, never to return home or see his family again. There would be no reconcile with his mother who hated him for something trivial, nor his sister to laugh with him anymore.
W-WAIT!

Within seconds the gun fired and blew a hole through Dell's cranium, killing him instantly. The sound was an ugly squishing noise as bits of his brain sprayed out on the other side, and Dell flopped over, dead. Dell's weapon of choice fell next to him, a silver dagger slightly bloody from infliction onto his enemies. Truffles stood paralyzed, the world suddenly becoming too much.
Dell...I'm so sorry, I was going to ask him to spare you.
Truffles walked miserably over to Dell's sad corpse, shaking with grief. Dell's eyes were hollow and lifeless, no longer needed to see or fight the enemies of his. Truffles closed Dell's open eyes, his own glazed over in tears.

Rest in peace, Dell. Please forgive me.
He gently lay Dell's body back onto the ground, then turned his attention back to The General. The General was staring, wide eyed, at what he was seeing: his greatest soldier and his own kin tending to a fallen body of an Animalia soldier, a sight so different from what he was used to.

The General leapt down from the rocks, his thick combat boots hitting the ground with a thump. The dirt beneath him quaked as he walked. Behind him his cape followed like a slithering snake in the breeze.
His golden chains along his belt clanked against his sides as he approached slowly, those piercing blue eyes never breaking eye contact with his nephew. Each step was like thunder, his silver pistol with the etched words "Cái chết là nô lệ của tôi" or "Death is my slave" withdrawn, eyes aglow as the sun beamed brightly. Like a bullet's reflection in western heat, his eyes glared with a level of cold malignancy and broken destitute. Around them tiger soldiers collided into Animalia soldiers, fighting with teeth, claws, and daggers. As The General grew nearer, Truffles hoisted himself back upwards and stood to face his only surviving kin. He curled his tail on Dell's limp leg unconsciously, a small protective mannerism in hopes of the poor corpse's soul hurry to heaven before the Devil stood before him. The General sniffed the air, a new scent catching his attention; Truffles knew what it was.
Flippy!
Then a bullet flew in between the two, and The General sharply turned to glare at the culprit. There Flippy stood, his own pistol drawn, and he snarled at the leader of The Tiger Nation, guns raging and eyes blazing.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" He roared in panic and fury.