I’ve got a short story here for you persons and I sincerely hope enjoyment is had. This one is based on the events of one evening a couple weeks back and is of a… deceiving perspective. Also it contains SOME offensive language, if you really want it removed let me know.
“Let’s do this marines!” our squad leader Gideon shouted. It was those Al-Asad bastards again, this time they’d apparently set up an installment in some quaint Iranian town, but after hearing that we were sending a regiment they had picked up some heavy duty explosives and planned to raze the town. Our squad was there to get the explosives and make the insurgents leave; but it wasn’t going to be as easy as “May we have the bomb please, oh and could you leave while you’re at it?” We come in from the far Southwest of the town, by some tall apartment buildings. Corey to my left and Vince to my right, I headed due East; heading them off before they could leave the markets seemed like the best plan. Meanwhile Gid took Ronald and his boys North, they’d take cover in a building that overlooked the town square and provide sniper support for Tim’s charge. Only a few seconds in and already we heard the first brass hit the pavement, and this wasn’t just some coon with an old Soviet rifle either; this guy had an RPD. I’d know the sound anywhere, it’s like a helicopter taking off next to your ear. I hauled ass around the corner of a florist’s shop, maybe I could get around this guy and take him down before he did any significant damage. Then we got message, Reyez was down; three to the chest. “Shit! Where’s our sniper support?!” Tim screamed above the deafening cracks of gunfire. “…I’ve got him.” said Ron’s calm voice. SLAM. Another peacemaker I can know by ear, that was a Barret. The machine gun dropped harmlessly to the pavement, making ripples in the puddle of blood that was starting to well. Gideon brought me back, “They’re coming around from the Northeast, catch ‘em before they’re in the square.” There was only one entrance to the Northeast, and I was facing straight down the avenue that intersected it. I took cover behind an old Volks and flicked off the safety. Once I brought my eye to the scope, everything else disappeared. Complete, total silence overtook me, the only sound I could hear was my rasping breath. “Iran’s pretty nice this time of year huh?” James was always the class clown, and even in the heat of battle (literally) he was no different. “Well, it’s no L.A.” I retorted; and then I was back in my own world. An odd way to pass the time between blowing coon’s brains out I guess, but it brought me down and now I was ready for the mission. No more pounding heart, no more rasping breath, no more radio chatter, now it was me and the guy down the block who thinks he’s real goddamn clever leaning around that palm tree. Deep breath, hold it, take aim, spit half of it out and… ding. The casing bounces one, two, three times; the corpse at the end of the block doesn’t. And that’s the fatal blow, they’re over now, they’re afraid. One more tries to make a dash, but we were waiting for him. I was taught in physics that an object in motion will stay in motion, war has proven this true time and time again. His feet slide out under him as the weight of his own torso carries him to the ground, but he goes forward a few more feet and his helmeted head scrapes to the other side of the gate. Vince chuckled, “Hahahaha, looks like the rat made it after all!” He makes me sick, and I suppress a gag. The rest of the afternoon is just clean up, the next guy we take down has the explosives and the last two are hiding out in the market. As we leave Vince and Ronald start listing off their respective favorite kills again. I don’t wonder why I’m in this war, I just wonder why I’m still standing; I’m not ruthless like Gideon, or twisted like Vince. I’m a paper-pusher, but maybe that’s what keeps me going. Or maybe I’m just biding my time until I get the raw end of a lead makeover.
Tags: CoD4, Iran, needsnipersupportfiddycal, short story
