Author: DeKarbon PM
The beginning of a story that will take you through the tournaments seen from the eyes of a man named Mikhail.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 3 - Words: 6,223 - Published: 07-23-09 - id: 5241063
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
watched from behind the tree. A rocket exploded in a ball of fire
near the trunk. He smiled and waited for the second and third. He
popped his head around the other side of the trunk and two bullets
passed through the barrel of his sniper rifle in rapid succession.
The head of the man nearly exploded. He couldn't have wished for a
Most people aimed for the center, between the eyes, of the head. Mik didn't know why, but he always liked to shoot the right eye. He just felt it was more fun. The grass in front of him was torn apart as a minigun roared. Mik moved as fast as his feet would carry him. He ran towards the shooter and whipped out his flak gun.
The chest exploded inward and completely disintegrated. He felt the bullets in his gut, and launched an assault rifle grenade with his left hand at what he thought had been moving. His HUD registered he got another kill. He checked his kill count and started laughing mirthlessly.
243. There was no kill limit, just a set time limit. And it was barely half way through. He knew it wouldn't last, and he would start to get sloppy as he waited for the game to finish. It was amazing. The longest streak he had ever maintained before was 98, and he now had one going at 167.
A sniper rifle cracked and Mik rolled away. Dirt exploded and Mik ran for cover. He smiled and decided on his assault rifle. He popped his head out from cover, then ducked back down as the bullets came. Not from a sniper, but another assault rifle. What an idiot.
Mik stood up and sprayed bullets and grenades at the figure rushing toward him. Once that was dealt with, he popped out the mag and slid another one home. Mik slid out of cover and took aim at the sniper. He fired a burst and watched the sniper's body fall form it's perch. He ran out into the open, stopped and stood there until the bullets came.
He dodged a few, and took a few at the same time. He turned the anger and pain into focus and sprayed bullets into the brush with his minigun. A female voice said through his helmet speaker, "Five minutes left."
Now he needed to make at least another hundred kills, to finish the match off with a broken record of a kill streak. At least 200 or so would do. He actively searched the battlefield for his opponents, and they hid. Damn them! Mik started to go crazy. He actually started using the jump pads and jumping down from the walkways. Hr was definitely not trying to give the fuckers that called themselves opponents a great big bullseye on his ass, so they took the message and didn't even fire a single shot at him.
Rather, they started shooting at each other. They knew they wouldn't win against Mik, so they needed to at least compare to him in the match. The woman actually got a five kill streak until Mik killed her. Which had taken him at least a minute, since she wouldn't stop running.
Now it was time to go stealth on em and find a good perch to hide in. He found a perfect on behind a tree on the ground. He lied down and closed his eyes, thinking solely of his parents neglecting him and getting what they deserved when SWAT busted in and killed them. 'Accidentally' as they claim.
It ended up a good thing, as they would definitely never be able to traffic drugs or sex slaves any more. And because they would have found Mik down in the basement. Strapped in the 'machine.' Mik's face twisted and he started to chuckle.
He decided now would be a good time to test the new infiltration software in his helmet. He broadcast his laughter across the channel that was reserved for the announcers and waited for the match to end so he could be arrested on the grounds that he was in possession of blah, blah, blah...
Damn, he needed a cigarette. That was when the idiots popped their stinking heads out which were quickly popped off by Mik. Two up from the 194 streak that was now a record breaker. Seven more would do. That way he'd be over 200, and have a sufficient gap between previous and new.
He waited on top of a ledge. Three seconds later, one of them walked by him. She routinely looked over her shoulder which meant that she was either searching for them, or running away from the other one. He decided to watch her, so he grabbed his sniper rifle and aimed at her. He used his scope to watch her as she slumped down.
"Two minutes left." The announcement fell upon deaf ears. Now he noticed the costume that she was wearing was very revealing. He didn't venture to look at the individual features, though, as that would be a distraction. She lay there as though there wasn't a match going on, and acted like it too. He decided against ruining her moment for her, and went on to searching the battlefield for the other one.
"One minute left."
He fueled his rage with thoughts of himself murdering his parents. And for the first time in years, he felt happiness. Which threw him off. He shook his head quickly, but he couldn't shake it. He wanted to cry and smile at the same time, as he was in his mind. Standing on top of his parent's bodies.
He shuddered with joy. He squeezed his hand and accidentally pulled the trigger. He nailed the woman in the chest, taking away most of it. She instantly died.
"Five.... Four.... Three... Two... One." Mik lay there on the ground. He chuckled, then took in a deep breath. Two guards were at the entrance to the hallway. Mik's jaw twitched. He reached up to take his helmet off and saw the guards tense up and tighten their grips on their rifles. When he removed the helmet, the guards and even his former opponents tensed up. For the guards it was going into near shock.
He looked around at their faces. He lifted up his helmet so the reflective visor would be his mirror, and he went into near shock as well. Blood was coming out of the corners of his mouth and ran down in a streak from above his hairline, and tears were streaming down his face. He barely reacted physically to any of it. He just slid the helmet back on and walked toward the guards.
Then he looked down at what he thought would be his stomach. It was ripped to shreds. He felt horrible and decided to lift a hand to feel it, then he noticed he was missing a few fingers. Damn! His anger rose, and he swallowed it. The only problem with the respawning units was that if the damage had occurred and the person had not respawned, the damage would be there forever.
He felt like falling down right there, in a pool of his own blood, letting the guards take him into the infirmary.. But that was totally against his personality and he kept walking. He held his hands up to one of the guards, and, seeing the guard not register what he was doing, Mik grabbed a set of stasis cuffs and slapped them on.
He stood between them and held out his arms for them to grab and take him to the infirmary. At least one of the guards got it. The other just stood there and watched them leave. Mik started top chuckle, which ended up in him coughing up a bit of blood into his helmet.
Mik told the guard, "Take my helmet off and have it cleaned. Or sell it, I really don't care. It'll catch quite a bit on the markets with real warrior's blood in it." The guard didn't register any of it. "I said take it off!"
"Prisoner's are in no position to make demands, especially in the condition you're in."
"Never underestimate Mikhail Karchnychev."
"Yeah, yeah. That's what they all say."
Mik started to laugh very loudly and actually lasted for a total of eight seconds, then started on a seemingly endless coughing spree.
"How about requests?"
"That, they can do."
"The helmet needs to come off, or I won't see my 'interviewer.' And I know that that is total disrespect for you guys."
"Yeah. The medics won't appreciate it either."
"Huh. I thought we were talking about the medics." The guard smiled and chuckled a little.
"So you gonna help me with the helmet or not?"
The guard let go of him to pull the helmet off. To the guards surprise, Mik didn't do a thing. The guard looked inside the helmet and cursed. "You weren't kidding. You can't see shit outta' that visor."
Mik just smiled and walked on, leaving a blood trail in his wake. More like a blood wake in his trail. The blood seemingly spread out from where it had initially landed. It was almost a solid line from the pool of blood to the infirmary bed. The medics had tried to put him under for the 'healing' process, but the anesthesia but it had failed miserably so Mik soon went into shock.
A definite surprise as he had walked all the way to the infirmary with the wounds and didn't suffer from anything but disbelief. Which was definitely uncommon. His jaw clenched, unclenched and twitched all through the surgery. He rolled his head over and saw the yellow eyes of a wolf.