Cannon Fodder Novels & Stories

However, a lot of them still felt like they should try their luck. They felt like they would not be so unlucky that they would become cannon fodder the moment they entered, but practically everyone seemed to think like that. Everyone had the same idea that they were the special ones that would not die. However, Fane felt that that way of thinking would push them right into their deaths. Slaughter games were the playground of the strong. The weaklings were only there to be killed. Weinhord City had warriors from three second-grade worlds. Those warriors would forget about their dignity for the sake of spirit crystals, slaughtering everyone they saw in sight.

~ CASPIAN ~ By afternoon, every living soul in my pack is getting ready for war. I'm in the armory, helping Callan ensure the weapons are properly distributed and arranged in order. Bombs. Grenades. Cannons. Wolfsbane gunpowder. Missile systems. Anything that can help defeat the enemy. The warriors around us are gearing up already, some loading more guns and explosives into different giant boxes.

Kristi took one moment to make sure Jared had stocked the ambo with extra supplies before they rolled out right behind the ladder truck. Three blocks away, they could see it was indeed a bad one. It was another abandoned apartment building, scheduled for demolition, and the black clouds spread for several blocks. Two blocks away, they could see the flames shooting up in the air. That was a good indication the building was fully involved, and at its most dangerous for the men who had to clear it. Because, abandoned or not, there would still be squatters, just like at the others.

'If I did not need them as cannon fodder, they would already be dead. Outwardly, he shrugged with an easy show of mercy. "It's fine. I'm a kind person. I forgive them." Firepower sat in his hands now. Moving as he pleased felt natural. Chloe clutched Kenneth's arm, her gaze flicking toward Cyrus with fear. 'Kind… Right, if you say so.' "Let's go," Cyrus said. He walked off with his pistol in hand, each step sharp and absolute. His preparations were nearly finished. His cannon fodder would not be needed much longer. And even if a few survived the conflicts ahead, he would clear them out later. Most of them, if not all.

I fired a response. “Do you always answer a question with a question” “Yes”, I said nonchalantly. “I’m just curious is all. Cannon is a weird last name so I just assumed it’s a nickname given to you when you served or am I wrong?” “I’m good with ammo. Guns, rifles, cannons hence the nickname” It was better than telling her, I had a weird obsession with guns and I fucking liked killing people like bugs. “What was it like? Being a Marine” Shit.