"Mario is a druggie"
CynicalMagician
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| Nine Seconds | | | Author: | | | IP: | user-2inXXXX | | Date: | 02/06/02 05:02 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 5, Min: 5
Lifetime Rating for Mep: 5.0000 |  |
Nine seconds. Nine seconds is the amount of time a confederate marine is expected to live out there on the battle field. Nine seconds. John McCaun's mother cried for much longer then nine seconds when he told her he had enlisted. Nine seconds, much much shorter then the amount of time John used to spend waking up in the morning, looking out at the new day that lie ahead. Nine seconds, less time then John would spend with his girlfriend, trying to tell her that his choice to join the marine corps was a good one. And nine seconds is the amount of time John spent pondering these facts on the ash world of Char Magma before his head was split open by a hydralisk spine.
Chapter One
The team leader held his hand up, a sign that they were supposed to stop. Stop they did, the eight marines, two medics, and firebat that were assigned under Captian Bob Swagger, Alpha Squad, Marine Core of the Confederacy. "Shut up, get down." The marines ducked, their weapons readied. The medics stood near the front line, where they could reach those injured by the first exchange of fire, if fire was exchanged. The firebat stood in front of them all, arms outstretched, the nearly inaudable hiss of propane coming from the high-powered flamethrowers he carried for sylish armwear. Bob Swagger was in front of them all, slowly creeping along the corridor, all five senses keen to whatever may lie ahead. He reached the corner, and ever so slowly peeked his head around. Slowly...so slow, god, Jimmy wished he'd hurry up. He's done this for every damn corner for the passed three hours. There's no Zerg in this damn installation. Still, he had obviously heard something, he wasn't a stupid man.
Finally, he turned around. "All right, get up and fall into ra-" he was cut off. Or more specifically his head was. There was a light *ting* as the spike that had shot through the base of his head hit the metal wall behind the Captian, or what was left of him. Suddenly, in front of a group still in shock, four hydralisks and six zerglings rounded the bend. Now, these troops were trained to fight in the case of the loss of a leader, sure, but to see death come and snatch up a person right in front of them...now that was something else.
Jimmy knew he should do something. His rifle should be firing. His spikes should be plunging through the Zerg flesh in front of him. He was meant to kill, he should kill. But he couldn't do anything except stand there. Stand there like a young boy who just saw the forbidden secrets of a women for the first time, jaw dropped, eyes wide.
Suddenly, as the first couple of zerglings reached the firebat, and used their claws to slice through his face guard and slice his throat cleanly, he snapped back into reality. "Let's blast these motherfuckers!" he screamed as his finger managed to put that last ounce of pressure on the trigger that caused the C-14 "Impaler" to spew forth death in the form of neat little spikes, in neat little bursts, into the neat little zerg bodies, all lined up in front of him. One zergling dead, then two, then three. Those around him were awakening to the world too, and started shooting. Some even injected themselves with the wonder drug of the century, the stim pack. Any druggy would give near a hundred credits for just one dose of the stuff, and all the marines had to do was kill. The medics ran to those using them, trying to repair some of the muscle damage that was caused. Unfortunately they couldn't repair the mental trauma that would insue, but that was their problem, it had no bearing on the killing.
The hydralisks started spitting their nasty little spines at the first line of marines, and soon, the zerglings too joined the fray. Down goes a marine. Oops, there goes another. Up go the medics, saving a few marine lives. Pop goes a zergling. And another. A hydralisk erupts with a horrid scream. That was Jimmy's work. He was proud. He moved onto the next hydralisk target, as the last of the zerglings popped. A nice six round burst and the hydra was nothing more then a splattering of guts on the walls. Two down, two to go. He saw the other marines, or at least the three that were left alive, all target one of the two remaining hydralisks, killing it efficiently. Split seconds afterwords a medic split in an ewwy gooey mess. 'That bastard,' thought Jimmy, as he ended the hell-spawned creature's existance. It was over, they had killed. It was what they were meant to do. They reported back to base, and were given medals for their accomplishment.
In the crime ridden city of Tarsonis a young boy learned to kill for the first time. Seventeen years old, getting cocky with his low powered pistol was forced to take the life of another. As the thug crept towards him, ready to mug him for all he had, this boy pulled out his gun, fired twice, and then ran. He was quickly picked up by the police, sent to be judged (as an adult of course) and was sentanced to death. He had killed a threat. What others got medals for he got death. Nine seconds after these thoughts ran through his head, thousands of volts of electricity rushed through his body, up his nerves, his muscles, his veins, into his brian. He was dead.
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