Writing Little Deaths

[Aaryanna]

[COLOR="goldenrod"][FONT="Comic Sans MS"][quote name='Revelation'][size=1][color=#8B008B]As far how the stories go, I think you?ve managed to give us all an entirely new image of [B]Aaryanna[/B]. She?ll never be the same adorable girl we know.[/size][/color][/QUOTE]Me as well. >_<;;; I don't think I'll be making any more requests. I had forgotten just how squeamish I can be. That was well written and creeped me out as well. XP

Oh and while I'm here, I add to the sentiment that DB needs to be dealt with. Dude, it's one thing for us to goof off and have fun, but to drag someone who wouldn't find it funny into it? Lame. I feel the same about Sandy's btw, if I had realized he wouldn't find it funny, I would have never requested the death since this is suppose to be in fun, not make people sigh and shake their heads. [spoiler]at least that's what I think[/spoiler][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Gavin]

[quote name='Neuvoxraiha'][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I've always wanted to kill my husband.[/FONT][/COLOR][/QUOTE]

[SIZE="1"]O_O

This is why I really should check every new post...

I'm actually mildly curious, in a morbid sort of way, to see how you'll write this. [/SIZE]

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]About this time I feel I should mention that the more detail your request contains, the more likely you'll be pleased with the results.

And the less likely people will be offended. Of course on the other hand, if they've made a career out of being splendid victims, don't be surprised when they start freaking. Direct all complaints to me. I'm impervious. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[Revelation]

[size=1][color=#8B008B]Mindless post ordered by D.

Kidding, well half-kidding, but that's beside the point. The point is that there're just some things that don't need to be said and I really vote for DB's death by the hand...of Sandy! XD

*coughcough* I mean, yeah. DB's death.[/size][/color]

[Raiha]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Darren leaned over his instrument, his fingers moving across the strings, the bow singing and bowing to his touch. Beth nodded and smiled and moved her crossed legs. Eventually the piece came to its conclusion and she smiled and clapped her hands. He set down the pieces as she stood in a rush of blue silk, bending slightly at the waist to kiss his cheek.[/i]

“Your music is so beautiful. I always love to listen to your playing.”

“As do I.”

[i]Crystia and Raiha nodded sagely, arms crossed loosely over their chests. Both stepped lightly across the threshold towards the guest rooms. It was very late after all. And while they’d been enjoying ginger ale in raspberry sorbet, it was time to let the happy couple enjoy their time together alone. Tactfully removing themselves from the picture seemed like the right thing to do at the time. In retrospect, it was the best thing to do at the time. Crystia idly scrolled through the homepage of Raiha’s laptop, and read the latest news. One headline stood out sharply against all the others. [/i]

[b]“Socially Inept Student Found Dead in Lake. Arms Missing. Parents Mortified.” [/b]

[i]Meanwhile, Darren stood, brushing his lapels lightly, leaning over to kiss his lady back, this time on the lips. The two were just setting down their glasses in the kitchen sink, when the bay window above the kitchen nook smashed inwards. And the hooded man made his entrance, holding his rifle, pointing it at the shocked couple.

Jerked back by her husband, Beth nearly screamed, as Darren pulled her behind him, taking a defensive stance. Unarmed and unprepared, he looked the intruder full in the face. And then she really did scream. Her husband was jerked back, two taps in the chest, the blood welling up around the wounds. He choked on his own blood and died, cradled in his wife’s arms. The sounds had alerted both Crystia and Raiha. The later reached into her purse, tossed carelessly upon the desk and jerked out a .38 and snatched up her knife from under the pillow. She narrowed her eyes, when the sound of Darren’s death reached them both. Crystia’s sob filled Raiha’s ears. Then the dark took over.[/i]

“Murderer.”

[i]Beth didn’t cower, but looked up into the face of her husband’s killer as well, when Raiha took a running start, barefoot across the floor and flung herself forward at the attacker. In a flurry of swiftly landed blows, the two skidded across the floor. Raiha landed on top, the gun in the thief’s mouth, knife plunged through the trigger finger. In the struggle, the rifle had slipped out of his grasp, and Beth snatched it up with shaking fingers and tightened her grip at once. Raiha took the gun out partway, enough for him to move his tongue and she snarled.[/i]

“Explain yourself. Who sent you? Why did you do this?”

“We were here to get at you. Dumb fuck was just in the way.”

“Who’s we?”

[i]Her voice choked itself out of a rapidly closing throat, her teeth gritting so hard they ached.[/i]

“I can’t tell you that. You’ll have to die not knowing.”

[i]The sound of a rifle being lined up. The click of the safety. And then the harsh voice of a woman choking down her rage.[/i]

“Suits me just fine.”

[i]Beth opened fire, Raiha rolling to one side out of the line. And his body jerked and twitched and died. Facedown, destroyed by the weapon that had killed her husband. She flung it down, as Raiha slowly dragged herself to her feet. She leaned down over the dead man and ripped off his mask. Nobody she recognized. Beth sobbed once as she gazed at her husband’s empty body. And Crystia screamed one high sound of keening. Then the house was still.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR="DarkOrange"]That was awesome, you have a way of writing deaths that reminds me of Tarantino in how the deaths happen without dramatic warning. I'm glad Darren got a heroic death (and if that socially inept teenager was, in fact, me, then I'm honored to die in the same post as him), and now I am only wondering what the hell happened to my arms XD[/COLOR]

[Rachmaninoff]

I definitely like that, it really fits what I was thinking actually. If I'm going to die in that manner, that's how I'd want to go. I'll be honest and admit that actually made me feel emotional. It was just what I asked for: Sad, tragic and beautiful all in one. So thank you. You wrote it beautifully. :catgirl:

[Aberinkula]

[COLOR="1234"]Kill me next, seriously. Make it the bloodiest you can, the worst. I want to be killed without remorse or mercy. The rest is up to you.[/COLOR]

[Allamorph]

[quote name='2008DigitalBoy][COLOR="DarkOrange"'](and if that socially inept teenager was, in fact, me, then I'm honored to die in the same post as him), and now I am only wondering what the hell happened to my arms XD[/COLOR][/quote]
[FONT=Arial]Oh, put a sock in it, ya self-absorbed lolicon.

Jays. [I]*rolls eyes*[/I][/FONT]

[Raiha]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Justin sifted through the papers on his desk, the headlines of the newspaper caught his eye.[/i]

[b]“Internationally Acclaimed Cellist Murdered In Home Intrusion.”[/b]

[i]A cellist. How odd. A closer look at the obituary page revealed further details. Something about the murderer being killed in turn by the cellist’s wife, something about a lawsuit. Nothing he cared to interest himself in further. Out of habit, he looked further down to see if there was anyone else he knew. Some long haired, socially maladjusted freak had died in what was called 'from natural causes'. Even though he’d been found without his head attached to his body. Justin shrugged his shoulders in a careless gesture and leaned back in his chair. The picture next to the name wasn’t a familiar one. He looked around his expansive den, in his more expensive house, self satisfied in the extreme.

Thousands of books lined hundreds of shelves. Plaques on the wall from former students, and framed photographs of himself next to various dignitaries and heads of state. His advice had been taken into consideration in no less than two presidential terms, and his various articles and papers had been published in dozens of journals and magazines. Everything was perfect. And then the floor fell out beneath him. His female servant stood quietly at the door, and behind her hulked a familiar face. It walked into his den without taking off its shoes. It sat across the desk from him and crossed its arms across its chest. [/i]

“Hello. Dad.”

[i]In his mouth the word ‘dad’ was an insult. A perversion. And Justin looked forward into the face of his illegitimate child. Born of a beautiful woman years previous. Too many years and too many thoughts had buried those shameful thoughts. The woman was already deceased, he’d watched the obituaries for that. But this boy. It was a shock, something that he could feel would needlessly complicate his life. But he watched the boy claiming to be his own son.[/i]

“Jenna sent me to find you after she died.”

“She died four years ago.”

“I decided to take my time about it. It wasn’t as if you were going to die any time soon.”

[i]His irritation at the boy deepened further. He dared to speak her name. And he came into his sanctuary, bold as brass. Justin uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward slightly.[/i]

“You never wrote to her. You never called her. You kept me a secret.”

“We both agreed it was for the best.”

[i]Hot shame welled up in his throat, threatening to spill over. And instead of giving voice to remorse, he frowned and looked down his nose at the underdressed, rebellious, arrogant snotty little shit.[/i]

“Get out of my house.”

“All in good time. But I’m going to tell you now. You have two choices. Acknowledge me as your legitimate heir, since I know you have no others. Change your will. Or find a way to remove yourself from the picture.”

“You impertinent little-”

[i]He paused. Then he saw the way out he would’ve always taken, had it come to this. Justin stood, and with measured steps, walked past his son, up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat down on the bed and opened the end table drawer. A pad and pen. He wrote down a short note, then laid it down and turned out the lights. He was a selfish, stubborn man. And he would not be told what to do by anyone. Justin removed his clothes, pulled an extension cord from the wall, and tied one end around the bed post. The other around his neck. And then he threw himself down to the carpet, choking his life away.

Death came slowly. Noisily. Hemorrhaging behind his eyes. Constriction in his chest, painful, stabbing pain. A cough ripping through his lungs, stealing away his breath. And then nothing at all.
[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Petie]

[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]You really do have a way with words. I finally read through the rest of this thread and you've done a fantastic job. The level of detail you put into each of these stories is amazing. Well done.[/COLOR][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]As for a request, I don't actually have one at the moment though I'll keep thinking.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Unfortunately the idea of a cheerful lighthearted death for Nerdsy does not fit in well with the theme I’ve set up for “Little Deaths” thus far. That would’ve fit however, in the “Otakuboards Celebration.” Perhaps in Part 2, we shall see it.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[Allamorph]

Mindless post ordered by D.

I grin at you.

I'm actually kind of intrigued by the next one, honestly. Edited January 13, 2015 by Allamorph

[Raiha]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I walked through the halls of the high school, feeling the anger build up behind my eyes. The crowds. I hated crowds. And the fights. Every single time a freaking fight broke out, someone inevitably shoved me up against the wall in their haste to get to where all the action was. I couldn?t stand it. And I walked down the halls, towards my next class, a series of visions and fantasies nearly overwhelmed me. I saw myself jerking my body up in a kick, twisting forward until the person in front of me died. His head would crack to one side and his neck would snap with the most delicious sound.

And tasting his death on my lips, I could concentrate on the Calculus. Then at the bell, I began the walk to my next class, steeling my nerves. But apparently I hadn?t steeled them enough. An unremarkable looking boy bumped into me as I turned a corner and knocked my books from my arms. An irrational hatred for him jerked out of my body and I found myself swearing and shouting at him.[/i]

?-the fuck is your goddamn problem!??

?I?m sorry! I just didn?t see you!?

?I don?t care. You?re still going to die.?

[i]And then time stood still. All around us people stopped moving. The sound of hundreds of students going to and from their classes died away. And I snarled an incoherent sound, my jaw extending, teeth sprouting from my mandibles. In the way of defense, he struggled to raise a force shield with one hand, but underclassmen that he was, it waved for an instant, and I crashed into it like it wasn?t there. Shrieking in rage and reveling in the entropy, I sank eight claws into his shoulders and threw him down, the blood slithering between my talons. Feathers sprouted from my shoulders and above my eyes, and I felt the demented feelings of bloodlust chewing at my sanity.

Ah what the hell?

I gave into the feelings. The pleasure washed over me in a wave, fueled by his fear, and I threw myself on top of him, while he screamed and struggled and cried for help. But the crowd hadn?t moved still, and nobody could hear him. Even I didn?t hear him. All I could hear was my breathing, harsh in my malformed throat. With my wings I beat him about, and with my arms I thrashed his flesh, tearing every inch of skin I could see that was as of yet untouched. With my teeth I tore out his eyes. With my feet I clawed into his groin. And with a snatch of my claws, I removed his ears. His mouth. His nose. And the horrific waste of flesh still breathed.

I swung both arms forward, crossing them at my shoulders and then flinging them out to tear through his stomach. And the slippery scent of bile and blood warmed the air while I sang the song of death that screamed itself out through my body. Human suffering. It spoke to me. More than any work of art. I cherished it. Drank it in through every part of my exposed skin.

The death rattle in his throat drove me like a goad, and I plunged both arms into his chest, ripping out his still beating heart, shredding his lungs. His ribs cracked like sticks under my touch, and I sank my teeth into his ruined throat. And the sounds were glorious. Of ripping meat and crushed bone. With a wrench of will I stopped myself from mangling his corpse further and stood up straight. With a twist of my spine, the teeth receded, the feathers vanished, and the bloodstains on my body faded into my skin. Then I took a few steps away from the dead boy and resumed my walk towards my next class. I blinked. And time surged forward once more.[/i]

?Oh my god! What happened to him!??

[i]The shrieks of horror were music to my ears. And I walked down the hall, my hair lashing out behind me like a whip. The suffering was just delicious. I swallowed it like I had his insides. And desire for violence sated, thirst quenched, I walked on. Couldn?t be late for my next class. That would never do.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Horendithas]

[COLOR="Indigo"]Well not only did I like the more noble manner of Darren's death, I rather liked the headlines in the next one and that interesting little [I]from natural causes[/I] death... now I wonder just who that could be? :p [/COLOR]

[Nerdsy]

[quote name='indifference'][COLOR="Indigo"] now I wonder just who that could be? :p [/COLOR][/QUOTE]


[color=deeppink]Clearly no one of note.[/color]

[Raiha]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]The jaws of She Who Consumes snapped and her wickedly forked tongue writhed with rage. Darren held onto her collar gamely, even as she jerked and tugged against his grip. Physically, she looked like Cerberus if he?d abandoned his superfluous heads and been female. Her eyes snapped and sparkled with their own hectic red glow. Paws larger than a man?s hand, with widely curved nails and barbed dewclaws scrabbled at the ground, tossing up gravel. Massive slabs of jaws with wickedly hooked teeth gaped and glistened wetly, covered with saliva that fell to the ground with light hisses. A pointed tail lashed and swayed back and forth, always threatening to slice through her master?s thigh but never quite touching it.

Darren leaned down slowly in an apparent act of suicide and put his lips very close to one of her pricked, oddly delicate ears and spoke in a calm, low voice that pierced through her growls.[/i]

?Go to him. Take him down, but leave him alive. Bring him to me alive.?

[i]He straightened up again as She gave him a look of apparent remorse, visible through the demonic eyes. But Darren kept his expression firm and she looked back towards her prey and whined once, harshly in her throat. When he pointed with one finger and released his grip on her collar, she leapt forward in a spray of dirt and saliva.

The target never saw it coming. And the hellhound bunched her muscles and leapt up, knocking him down from his perch, claws in his shoulders and hips, tail swinging around to slice through the muscles in his thighs, in his legs. He whined and screamed and gasped for breath, terrified out of his mind, when the beast brought her face very close to his and smiled.

She smiled hideously and unnaturally, as out of place on her as laughter in a morgue. And with a careful bend of her jaws, she clutched him up between her teeth at the neck, just enough to carry but not enough to pierce. Trotting slowly, dragging him in front of her, she returned to her master and dropped him on his knees at Darren?s feet. Then she circled around behind him and sat back on her haunches, licking her claws like an oversized cat. He reached out and stroked her ears with one hand while the other stroked the stubble of his beard.[/i]

?So you?re the one that threatened my wife. And killed me.?

?I was just following orders! I swear!?

?Raiha. Kill him.?

[i]The hound obliged, tearing into his throat with a snap and a growl, eviscerating him with the slightest pressure of her claws. And he shrieked and cried and pissed himself like any other, despite the fact that they were all dead. And then his voice tapered off to a whimper, only to be eclipsed by Raiha?s howl. It blasted across two worlds, and pierced the eardrums of mortals and the undying alike. Then it stopped. Darren had crossed his arms, oblivious to the carnage, and smirked.

He couldn?t help but think she was a perfect tool, the instrument of his revenge fulfilled. His death, before his time, meant he?d been taken to his world between the two. And Raiha, being who she was, had been sent along, or at least a copy of herself. Totally inhuman, yet still retaining certain features of her human self. The Hound of Hell. Incapable of being controlled by anyone but the pure of heart. Incapable of stopping until her prey was utterly destroyed. She served him with all the faithfulness of any normal dog.[/i]

?That?s a good girl.?

[i]She wagged her tail up at him and laid down at his feet.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Gavin]

[SIZE="1"]Wow, three different and rather brutal deaths. I quite liked Rach's, nice to see an honourable death among all the carnage.[/SIZE]

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The ladies pursed full lips, tilting their heads in query. Their ship, "The Screaming Mermaid," sailed blithely onward, oblivious to the death and destruction it's mistresses rained down upon its decks. Captain Raiha held up their next victim and tilted his face to one side, the manacles around his wrists and ankles clinking wetly, dully, in his own blood. First Mate Beth drew her cutlass and held it straight out, pointed towards the man's heart, and narrowed one of her eyes.[/i]

"Looks like a proper little bint. I says we kills 'im off good and proper."

[i]Crystia, navigator extraordinaire, looked up from the maps she'd spread out on the counter and purred once, deep in her throat, tossing a lock of her hair from her eyes. Her boots thumped grandly as she stood, the creak of her leather jerkin contrasting with the cheerful jingle of bangles at her wrists. She leaned on the ship's rail, twirling a piece of rope in her fingers absentmindedly.[/i]

"Just lock him up. I'm sure we can have more sport with him later. 'Sides, I likes the look in his eyes."

[i]She smiled and leaned forward, looking into the bright blazing blue eyes of their prisoner. His dirty blonde hair glinted in the harsh noontime sun, and she smiled, crossing her arms over her ample chest with a decidedly causal gesture. Her Captain smirked and signaled for the crewmen to drag out the next victim, a man found guilty of Kliché most horrific. Without a word, she bodily dragged him over to the plank, the muscles of her legs standing out against her breeches, the loose white shirt rippling in the trade winds. Beth sang out a few sign song words about commuting the body to the deep, albeit a still living one, and shoved him right off the side.

There was a yelp and a terrific crash, and the next victim was dragged up. This one had abnormally long hair, and pasty white skin. Beth leaned forward with a chortle and Crystia did as well.[/i]

"Oh this one hasn't seen the sun in nary a year. I say we let him soak it up good and proper."

"Lash 'im to the mast and let the seagulls peck him to death."

"Ah 'ow tragic."

[i]At the First Mate's word, the next victim was pulled up to the mast, in full view of the harsh glare of the sun, and stripped of his shirt. There he would burn and blister and crack in the sun, and be chilled in the deep of the night, until he screamed for his death, or went mad with sunstroke. Either was perfectly acceptable to the cruel mistresses of the Screaming Mermaid. After all, it could hardly be called that if there wasn't a proper amount of screaming involved. And that brought the ladies such joy. Warmed the cockles of their cold and sinister hearts.[/i]

"Next we got's a man callin' himself BK."

"Wonder wot it stands for?"

"Big Kahuna?"

"Big-"

[i]First Mate Beth nudged Crystia before she could say what she was going to say and both fell about chortling and guffawing in a decidedly un-lady like way. But eventually they simmered down and settled back to their duties while the pirate ship carried on, oblivious to the drowning, the maiming, the burning, the screeching. And all was well, and very well. The Captain hummed a ditty to herself and Crystia consulted her charts with great attention to details. And First Mate Beth observed their slowly cooking prisoner with some asperity, taking a pull from her bottle of rum when it suited her.

Woe betide those who fall before the Screaming Mermaid and her bloodthirsty crew.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Chaos]

Too good to pass up.

I wanna die in a war. Navy SEAL fireteam commander working with his squad and some First Recon Marines in Baghdad a few days into the second invasion of Iraq. Something flashy and stupid, but heroic. A firefight, heavily outnumbered and pinned down in a bombed-out mosque. Something rewarding, like catching a bullet from a sniper after clearing out local resistance. Include a close encounter knife fight if you would. Lots of core and torso shots spread around. A few M67 deaths. You know, fun stuff.


...If you [i]can[/i] that is. :P

[Andrew]

[size=1]How about you get something written which shows Revy and Spike (of Cowboy Bebop) working together to rake up a few kills. Since I don't really have anyone in mind to kill, why don't you have them kill everyone who has posted in this thread so far (with myself as the exception)? Really don't wanna see myself dead right now. ¬_¬

[B]EDIT:[/B] Peh, you're rules make you a harsh mistress my dear. Just make it yourself doing the killin', only in a Revy-esque manner. Oh, and make indifference the exception and have me killed last instead. ¬_¬[/size]

[Raiha]

[quote name='Andrew'][size=1]How about you get something written which shows Revy and Spike (of Cowboy Bebop) working together to rake up a few kills. Since I don't really have anyone in mind to kill, why don't you have them kill everyone who has posted in this thread so far (with myself as the exception)? Really don't wanna see myself dead right now. ¬_¬[/size][/QUOTE]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Darling darling darling, "Fellow OB members." Not fictional characters.

Then this would just be another pointless fanfic.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[Horendithas]

[COLOR="Indigo"][quote name='Andrew'][size=1]How about you get something written which shows Revy and Spike (of Cowboy Bebop) working together to rake up a few kills. Since I don't really have anyone in mind to kill, why don't you have them kill everyone who has posted in this thread so far (with myself as the exception)?[B] Really don't wanna see myself dead right now.[/B] ¬_¬[/size][/QUOTE]If I die, then you're next, per my request. :p[/COLOR]

[Petie]

[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]Well, after much thinking, a silly idea managed to pop into my head. However, I have a scenario and no one in mind to kill so I ask that it be left up to you (or popular vote) to determine who dies here.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]As for the story itself, I want it riddled with irony and bad puns. Everyone knows a few common sayings for death. I'd like them all worked into the story in a literal sense. The list I have that I would like included includes, but is not limited to, the following:[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]1. Bought the farm[/COLOR][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]2. Kicked the bucket[/COLOR][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]3. Bit the dust[/COLOR][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]4. Sleeping with the fishes[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=blue]You're also welcome to add anything there you see fit. Now, I'm not sure how feasible this request is without including who is to die but like I said, I don't have anyone in mind. I just figured this would be an interesting story to write/read and could have some funnier deaths along the way.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=#0000ff]Oh, and I very much enjoyed the pirate themed one (as well as the rest but pirates are awesome).[/COLOR][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana][/FONT]
[B][FONT=Verdana][COLOR=#0000ff]Edit:[/COLOR][/FONT][/B]
[FONT=Verdana][COLOR=#0000ff]Oh yeah, I knew there was one thing I forgot. Obviously, one person can't' meet his/her end four different times in one story (or can they?) so I had originally assumed four deaths would end up happening. Whether or not you want to do four separate deaths of four separate members or make it sort of foreshadowing for a head member when his/her three minions die first is up to you.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[Raiha]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]They were moving from house to house, under constant fire. Every time they secured one, another broke out in another round of fighting, the sound of AK-47s peppering the air, a constant barrage. It never stopped. The sounds never stopped. Neil paused at the next house, his squad around him, everyone blowing hard. Sand was everywhere, in every crack in their gear, filling up their boots, and jamming their rifles. One of his men staggered slightly, trying to cover it up, and his commander jerked a salt tab from his shoulder pocket and virtually shoved it in his mouth.[/i]

?Eat it before you drop dead.?

[i]It was the heat. The fucking heat. They cloying, choking, humid heat that never let up, and it was the middle of the night for Chrissake. Fucking Saddam. Building that goddamn reservoir right there. It attracted the mosquitoes the size of your hand, and in the day, spiders the size of your face came out to play. Closest thing to hell they could get to. A marine stood by the window, the frightened family huddled in the back room, unarmed, and unharmed. As long as you assumed being scared shitless wasn?t harming them. With a slow hand, he drew back the curtain just an inch, and looked up as far as he could. Orange tracers lit up the night sky. Brilliant hues of red and yellow, fiery against a backdrop of inky blackness. Not that the beauty meant anything to him. He turned, his voice low compared to the sounds swirling around them.[/i]

?I think we?re fucked.?

[i]A terrific sound, first the dull whine, that grew louder and shriller with the Doppler effect. The bombs had fallen, there goes the neighborhood. The sounds of screaming became annoying, when Neil turned and saw the family sobbing, and one boy pointing a finger due east, when Neil turned and saw it through the back door. The mosque had been hit; not that it?d done anyone good. It had been empty for hours. The sounds of gunfire grew louder, closer, and they made a break for it. Running, not even trying to return fire, but it was no good. One of the Marines went down, his head simply gone. Just as they were reaching a wall, Neil was knocked down by one of his own men, screaming, his arms outstretched.[/i]

?Grenade!?

[i]And the explosion rocked them off their feet, shrapnel bouncing around, riddling his man full of holes. One piece lodged in his forehead, and his eyes tilted backwards in death. Whoever said war was glorious-. Neil rolled him down over the cracked tiles that had once made up the mosque?s floor and crouched down under the cover. He would?ve reloaded his M16, but the ammunition had already been spent. He checked his belt. M67s used up from earlier. And the rest of his team wasn?t in much better shape.[/i]

?Ah shit.?

?Commander!?

[i]Neil turned, his SOG out before he had completely moved around. One of the enemy was already there, the muzzle of his AK-47 covering his beaten, bleeding team. Half a dozen had non fatal gunshot wounds, others were picking shrapnel out of their arms and legs. And the poor bastard ran for them, forgetting to check behind, when Neil grabbed him by the face and jerked his knife across his throat. The serrated edges caught the skin of his neck, and the blood spurted hot and warm across his hands and arms, the artery pumping out his blood in a quick reflexive gesture. And he fell, face forward into the ground. When one of the men tipped him over, the terrible enemy- he couldn?t have been older than 16. But he could hold a gun, and he was trying to kill them. The beginnings of a cliché formed on Neil?s tongue, but he spat out the grit in his mouth instead.

The sounds grew closer. And then they were surrounded. Nobody dropped to their knees, nobody threw up their arms, they just stayed still. Unmoving. Nobody played dead either. They had plenty of those anyway. As the men the media would doubtless refer to as ?Freedom Fighters? closed in, several thoughts flashed through Neil?s head. The ending scene of Braveheart. Gladiator. And he nearly shook his head, but by then it didn?t even matter anymore. A machete flashed, and one of his men?s heads rolled down, separated neatly from his shoulders. Neil didn?t twitch, didn?t make a sound, he looked up into death?s face instead and smirked with the same arrogant attitude that had driven him out here.[/i]

"Well fuck."

[i]And it?d come down to this. Forced onto his knees in a destroyed mosque, empty gun, knife forced from his hand, and his team dead or dying all around him. Blood splattered over his cheeks, and the scent of gunpowder hot and sharp in his nose. His last conscious thought, was that at least there wouldn?t be any drawn out torture beforehand. Just a sharp thrust into his neck, and then a sweep of the hand, and his body flopped forward uselessly, the head kicked out of the way as the death squad marched on.


[b]Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
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