The Writers' Circle

This is just a scene I'm experimenting on. Please critique.

Note: I've said on a post somewhere that I won't be coming as much as possible anymore (possibly about once per month now), but I'm sure to critique any work when I have the chance. Thank you.

	There I was in the middle of the battlefield--and in the home of the civilian Infallible woman and her daugther hugging, or rather, clenching each other.--glaring at Major Sharkteeth with eyes seeming to tear him to shreds, only it didn't seem to push him back. Rather, he smirked at me with his eyes half-concealed and his eyebrows firm on his lids, and then swoosh! and a flash from his arm and he pulled out the Dissolver 9 mm. And when you thought, or at least I, that the staring gun drawing contest would end, he guided his hand into his pocket and Flash!--a nail crossbow. That smirk of his went higher than usual, even more usual than the time his comrades defeated Akira and Domuja in the Thai Empire. "You wouldn't hurt an officer now, would you?"
	I gritted my teeth--gritted them harder than anytime in my life until a piece of my molar chipped off and caused the artery in my lower jaw to pulse. Black boots--my boots that is--rooted me to the ground and tensed my legs and connected to my heart like one of those football players in Atlanta who would charge in and take a risk to run the ball into the pile or noticing the only way to win is to experiment. Well, football players are one sort, but the battlefield? Me? The major? The woman and her child? Hmm... Our creator created us for his game and amusement for his friends, right?
	"No answer, eh?" Sharkteeth said. Greased and oiled fingers cocked the Dissolver's trigger, but the arm pointed once at me then at the woman and her child then back at me. Back...forth....back....forth..... Guessing game, most likely, one of those Russian Roulette games, only you have a middlemen. Or maybe he's thinking like Two-Face, only without flipping the coin. 
	Back...forth...back...forth.... Stop. I widened my eyes the moment the major's decision came to a close--a tunnel leading the train out and onto the target--woman and child. A daughter's lanky arms quivered and cried and cried and pulled her squirell tail closer to her--then cuddled it and screamed a scream that could quiver cream--that is, if cream is far less supreme than dreams. "Momma," she said, "if we die, will papa be able to go to heaven?"
	The mother foraged her daughter's head and planted it on her breasts, the child's tears waterfalling on her shirtcrevices then puddling onto the ground, her tremor wavering the mother. "Only God can determine that, even if we brought this upon ourselves." Must be my imagination, as far as when I can go into my own world, but for once I can see the two's aura's intermingling and swirling to form into one and coiling around me. Oh, if death be upon me now, take me up with them when Ragnorak comes.
	"Well, then, looks like we have our share in victory," Sharkteeth said. Cock. Cock. "Now." Cock.
	"Noooo!" I said. As if God winded me up like a dinosaur action figure then let me go, I ran and ran--and ran, my boots thumping against the ground harder than the time Ralph stomped to get the army's attention--harder than ever before that I cracked the dirt. Faster, faster toward the target. Acid shot through the dissolver's nozzle towards the mother and child. Steel-plated boots pushed my feet back, but I kept running--running with determination. God, if I cause a death of the civilian, who knows what might happen in my future.
	Tap! went my boots beside the mother's dress. She clenched the daughter and held her tighter than a teddy bear, so much her back muscles bulged from her backs as if to protect her from the spinach-like spit. "Damn it!" I said. And leapt I did, right toward the mother and child, the spit getting three yards from the three of us.