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Surf a Flood of random discussion.
7/7/2007 11:03:03 AM
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The Flood 7: The Emperor's Death Game.

Right, well, for those who are both interested and uninterested in reading, I should best fill you in on what exactly I'm writing about. Around about one year ago, I started a series of stories in which I used characters from this forum and put them into my story. To fully understand this story, you should be well acquainted with the backstory of "The Flood." You can find them in their original forms with the links. [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=8299484]The Flood 2 is here[/url] [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=8397250]The Flood 3 is here[/url] [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=8788571&viewreplies=true]The Flood 4:Parallel Worlds is here.[/url] [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=10005920&postRepeater1-p=1]The Flood: Liberty Lost can be read here[/url] [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=10575458]And last, but by no means least, The Flood: Death Games can be found here.[/url] (Note that there is no "Flood 1." At least, not one that is directly involved with this story.) Of course, there is the Colonel Corbec Club, where you can read all of the stories I'd done uninterrupted. Finally, I may well have some space for new characters. That means[b] you get to be in the story![/b] Well, depends kind of. It's all rather blurry at the moment, but PM me if you're interested. Thank you for your time and please enjoy the story. [Edited on 07.07.2007 3:09 AM PDT]
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#Offtopic #Flood

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  • Just slightly less awesome than Halo 3, Corbec. =D

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  • Certainly, Snap. The few fans I have deserve something for, well, being fans. Though I doubt this will ever go beyond the pages of Bungie, I would try to get you a signed version.

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  • HELL YES! I went out with a BANG! A perfect ending for my character. Doing what I love. After reading through this entire series, I must say, it has brought tears to my eyes to see its end. If it gets published, can I get a signed copy from Corbec? :)

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  • Ah, thanks?

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  • Sweet! [Edited on 08.24.2007 12:35 PM PDT]

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  • Why thank you.

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  • Holy Freaking -blam!- Man!!!! That was awesome! I just finished it and boy was it worth the read. The last chapter really touched me with how the two main characters met their ends and how the story itself ended. Wow, I am amazed. This is the best thing I have read for a few years now and the ending was just bloody epic!

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  • Wha?

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  • (Continues scheming) Don't mind the psychotic, wild-eyed, bald guy in the corner jotting down weaknesses onto a piece of paper...

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  • Nice. I´ll write more when I get back from sunny tenerife, but you´ve outdone yourself mate. Well done.

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  • [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Pyroshark Corbec, my good lad, you're a saint, and a genius, and at times I admit that even I have to grin at your arrogant brilliance. ;D[/quote] I don't care what anyone says, I'm effing well sigging that. [quote]So, show of hands for who wants to see this published? -Pyroshark-[/quote] Funny thing you say that. I have a friend who's publishing a book, and I'll have a word to him about that. Firstly, I'll be editing all of these things so as to iron out the billions of errors and make certain things seriously better. (i.e. Corbec fighting Shiska in The Flood 2 or Pyroshark with the Grizzled Ancients in The Flood 3.) Hopefully I'll get that done before school starts.

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  • [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Pyroshark So, show of hands for who wants to see this published? -Pyroshark-[/quote] Well, the names might have to be changed for those many normal folk who are not on the Flood at all, but yes, it would be excellent published.

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  • I guess this means I [i]have[/i] to start writing more 'Darkly, huh? =/ I dont think I'm alone when I say that Corbec has produced a phenomenal piece of writing throughout the past year. Doubtless its been tremendously difficult at times to cope with the obstacles of everyday life (education key among them) as well as dedicating a sizable chunk of time to this project. But, the fruits of the endeavour are here for all to see. Corbec, my good lad, you're a saint, and a genius, and at times I admit that even I have to grin at your arrogant brilliance. ;D So, show of hands for who wants to see this published? -Pyroshark-

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  • I have just started reading this.......

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  • Yea, i was happy with the ending

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  • *laughs that corbec lost a child* Glad you finally killed that villain in the story. Yay Pyroshark.

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  • Holy crap! That Was Good! I just Finished reading it, But Hot Damn! Sucks that its done, though

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  • And that, my friends, is it. The series is completed after a year-long struggle to write it. I sincerely hoep you've enjoyed it, otherwise I threw a year of my life away. I must thank those readers who stuck to this, motivating me to carry on in the darker days. I apologise, however, for ending the series. This, though, was unavoidable. I'm entering my GCSE's soon, major tests in the British educational system. I may well write more works-indeed, I already have ideas-but to carry on this endeavour would simply be too much. In fact, right now I have Geography Coursework to finish with only two weeks of holiday left! Nevertheless, it has been fun and I hope to keep in contact with you in the future.

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  • Pyroshark got to his feet again, with no threat of being knocked down this time. He staggered over to Corbec, his breath shallow gasps. Unless he saw a medic soon, he’d probably drown in his own bodily fluids. Corbec lay on the ground, a hand to his throat in a vain attempt to staunch the tremendous bleeding. “Last words?” Pyroshark wheezed, aiming his pistol at Corbec’s head. He didn’t see Corbec’s spare hand grasp onto something that one of the dead had left behind. Corbec said something too quietly for Pyroshark to hear, so he knelt beside the dying Emperor. “When you shot her…” Corbec gargled. “She wasn’t the only one you killed…” Corbec smiled for the last time, then showed the grenade he’d found to Pyroshark, but without the pin. The fiery explosion killed both Corbec and Pyroshark in a flash. [i]The Next Day.[/i] The sun shone bleakly through the heavy, grey clouds gathering above. The branches of the old Oak rattled as the cold breeze slid through the air. Only a dozen of the greatest were attending this ceremony, but the entire Empire was observing a day of mourning. One of the largest industrial nations had turned itself off in the memory of a single man. The dozen stood around the grave of Empress Sally Sabar, and a small plaque leaning against it, with writing painstakingly engraved onto it. There was no body to bury, and putting this plaque here was as close as could be managed to following his will of being buried next to Sally. “We are here to mourn the passing of a brilliant hero.” Xbox Halo Guy began. “There is not a Floodian alive that was untouched by his charismatic hand. A hand both strong, yet gentle in all respects. Without doubt, we owe him a great debt of gratitude that we can never repay. We can only wish to see the likes of this great hero once again. It may not be in our lifetimes, but we can hope that one day, an equal to him will be born unto our nation, and lead us on to even greater glory.” Xbox Halo Guy paused to wipe away a genuine tear. “But we have failed him. A tragedy of this magnitude has already been wrought upon us all, yet lessons were not learnt. And so, it is with great shame that I resign my position within the Department Of Civil Protection, and other Intelligence Agencies.” Xbox Halo Guy, as with everyone else present, snapped to a solemn salute. A crisp movement they had not made in a long time. “The King is dead.” He announced. “Long live the King.” [i]Six Years Ago. A week before Sally Sabar is killed. “So, doctor, why are we here?” Sally Sabar asked. She sat upright in her bed at the Kings Arms Private Hospital, joined with Corbec, who sat alongside her. He wore a spotless black suit, an Italian, white pinstripe shirt beneath with a silk, red tie kept in a Windsor knot. He wore luxuriously expensive black leather shoes from the most sought after designers. His gleaming blonde hair was clean and short in the typical French Crop, and his eyes were as brilliantly blue as ever. Sally wore only her simple hospital gown, though it had been hand-made by the foremost fashion design house in Floodland. Her elegant, wavy brown hair was loose, and its locks tumbled freely around her shoulders. Like Corbec, her eyes were a dazzling blue. “Well.” Started the white-coated doctor. He was a dependable, likeable fellow. Probably the best in his field. “It’s good news.” Corbec and Sally looked at each other, shrugging. “Empress. I have the pleasure to announce that you’re going to have a child.”[/i] [b]The End.[/b] [Edited on 08.19.2007 2:02 PM PDT]

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  • She swung her Walther 2000 like a club as she charged, which connected with the blonde woman’s jaw, knocking her to the floor. Girly brought the Walther up again for a downwards [i]coup de grace[/i], when the downed woman kicked Girly in the chest, sending Girly staggering backward. The blonde jumped back to her feet, twirled the Desert Eagle so her grip was on the barrel, and attacked the reeling Girly Spartan. She smacked the butt of the pistol into Girly’s neck, making her drop to her knees, but missed with her follow-up knife stab as Girly rolled to one side. Having regained her senses, Girly darted behind the blonde-who was overstretched from the failed knife stab-and caught her in a headlock. Girly pushed the woman forward, smacking her head into the wall, pulled her back and repeated the process, leaving a blood smear on the wall. The blonde, before Girly could slam her into the wall again, managed to get the stiletto facing toward Girly, and plunged it into her skin just below the body armour. Girly cried out, reaching for the knife and releasing her foe by instinct. The blonde wormed away, then clobbered Girly with a painful side-ways swing of her Desert Eagle, smacking into her neck again and causing Girly to fall to the floor. The blonde smoothed a tussle of her hair back in place, then calmly used her foot to roll Girly onto her back. Corbec just shot the blonde, there and then. A quick burst of AK fire saw her jerk around like she was being electrocuted with each bullet impact, then fall flat on her face. Corbec, a few paces away, lowered his smoking rifle and jogged over to Girly Spartan, anxious to see how she was. He shoved the lifeless corpse of the Forsaken woman off of Girly, then knelt by her. Girly was perfectly still, eyes closed. Corbec felt on her neck for a pulse, then realised she was dead. He could feel the bone of her neck jutting out at a wrong angle. It seemed that the blonde had hit her neck so hard that it snapped Girly’s neck and severed her spinal cord, killing her instantly. “Too many people have died here because of this. And I for one am not going to be shot in the rear again.” JS said, walking over to stand behind Corbec. Corbec got up slowly, took off his sunglasses and chucked them away, facing JS. He was about to reply, when JS’ head literally came apart. Almost as if someone had jammed C4 in his ear and hit the detonate button, JS096 suddenly became bereft of a cranium. His helmet went flying, ricocheting away while blood, bone, brain matter and flesh decorated Corbec, the corpses lying in the corridor, the walls and ceiling. All that remained of his skull was JS’ lower jaw, hanging slackly and trickling with gore. The M4 slipped out of his lifeless hands, and JS slumped backwards, landing with a wet [i]splat.[/i] “Corbec! It’s been a long time.” A voice called from further down the corridor. The voice belonged to the one that Corbec found synonymous with the phrase “enemy.” It was him. It was Pyroshark. Pyroshark held a SPAS 12 shotgun, and racked the pump action, throwing a single red cartridge out of the breach. Shooting people in the back seemed to be something of a recurring theme nowadays. His brown hair was long and around his ears, while Corbec’s was short and blonde. Pyroshark was unshaven and bulky after months of living on the Jacutan Islands, while Corbec was well-kempt and slighter in form. Pyroshark wore a white t-shirt, combat boots and denim jeans, a stark contrast to Corbec’s military gear: His customised helmet, bloodied combat fatigues and ammo webbing. “Pyroshark. I do hope you’ve been keeping well.” Corbec replied with mock concern. “Listen, you ugly lump of -blam!-, what the bloody--blam!- hell do you think you’re doing here!? Throwing away the lives of teenagers and for what!?” Pyroshark spat scornfully. “Oh, screw you! You can’t pull the moral high ground here! In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one who ordered the deaths of thousands in Flondon!” Corbec retorted. “And you’re the one who’s brought devastation and pain the whole planet!” “I’m bringing order and security!” “[i]Just shut the -blam!-up and DIE![/i]” Pyroshark roared, bringing his SPAS 12 up to his armpit. But Corbec was already moving. He grabbed JS’ remains by the straps its backpack and heaved it upright as a shield just before Pyroshark started shooting at point blank range. Buckshot started slamming into the Kevlar vest on the faceless corpse, the huge impacts making Corbec nearly fall over with their strength. Pyroshark was cackling, blasting off one cartridge, racking back the slide and firing another. A small pile of red cartridges was stacking up beside him. Corbec knew he just had to hold on a little longer until… Pyroshark stopped laughing, he was out of ammo. He snarled in frustration and burst into the open doorway of the room to his right, while Corbec dropped the badly mauled remains of JS and entered the room to his left. Pyroshark reached to the back of his jeans and drew his Glock pistol, modified to fire Armour-Piercing slugs rather than the usual nine-millimetre bullets. He wheeled out of cover, just as Corbec did with his AK47 Assault Rifle. Pyroshark fired a single round-which hit Corbec’s helmet with such speed that the straps holding onto it broke and the whole thing flew away, but causing no harm to Corbec. The helmet bounced off the ceiling and landed a little way behind Corbec’s position, but facing the fight. This broader, clearer view was now the best that the people back home would get. Pyroshark swore prodigiously and ducked back out of sight as Corbec started to blaze away on fully-automatic. A cascade of empty brass shells joined the [i]Rat-Tat-Tat[/i] of a thirty-bullet salvo, blowing chunks out of the concrete, sending stone ships and dust everywhere, and tearing gouges out of the recently deceased near to Pyroshark. When he emptied out the clip, Corbec reloaded in the blink of an eye and kept on firing, this time advancing out of cover at a fast pace. Pyroshark could only stay in cover and hope not to be hit. When Corbec drained his new magazine, he was practically all over Pyroshark. Not knowing Corbec had snuck up on him, Pyroshark was taken totally by surprise. Corbec immediately pinned him to the wall, holding the body of his AK47 down on Pyroshark’s throat to choke the life out of him. Pyroshark dropped his pistol and squirmed in Corbec’s crushing grip, unable to breath. Desperation lending him strength, he punched Corbec once then twice on the jaw, the blows staggering Corbec and easing the pressure. Air flowing down to his lungs, Pyroshark got a grip on the AK and heaved, throwing it and Corbec-who was still holding on-into the corridor. Pyroshark threw himself after Corbec, barrelling into him and forcing Corbec to the wall. Corbec grunted, and slammed his elbow down onto the back of Pyroshark’s neck repeatedly, forcing him to let go. Pyroshark backed off, massaging the painful area now sitting on his neck. Corbec, panting, adopted a ready stance, his fists clenched. Pyroshark glanced down and smiled. He looked wryly back to Corbec then reached for his pistol, lying only a few feet away. He snatched it, but Corbec was ready when he brought it back up. Corbec grabbed Pyroshark’s gun wrist and put it under his armpit, his back to Pyroshark. “Get! Off!” Pyroshark managed, unable to bring his gun to bear. Corbec repeated his trick earlier, and pounded his elbow into Pyroshark’s face, snapping his nose like a twig. The pain forced Pyroshark to let go of the pistol, and he tripped over Mike D Halo King’s corpse. Corbec aimed the pistol at Pyroshark, only to have it kicked out of his hands. Pyroshark lashed another strike with his legs, catching Corbec in the gut, doubling him over. Fighting through the pain of his broken nose, Pyroshark struggled upright and swung another kick out at the seemingly helpless Corbec. But luckily for him, Corbec caught the limb before it connected with his face. Suddenly with only one leg available to move, Pyroshark yelped when Corbec punched him in the crotch. Corbec released the leg, then pounded Pyroshark’s chest with a flurry of knuckle-punches. Corbec laughed as he heard ribs crack and Pyroshark cry out as the broken shards speared his lungs. With Pyroshark stunned, Corbec delivered a killer uppercut, smashing into Pyroshark's vulnerable jaw and actually lifting him bodily off the floor, only to come crashing back down again. Corbec flexed his fingers and shook out his wrist, all the while with a triumphant grin plastered onto his face. He reached down and picked up a discarded rifle, holding it by the barrel. He patted it in the palm of his hand. “End of the line, Pyroshark.” He chuckled. Pyroshark said something, but blood pooling in his lungs turned the words into a collection of rasping rattles. “Don’t worry, the end is nigh.” Corbec crooned softly. Then he noticed the pistol in Pyroshark’s hand, and the smile on his face. Pyroshark fired one bullet from the gun he’d scavenged off the floor. It hit Corbec’s neck, and severed his right Carotid Artery by pure bad luck. A once, Corbec knew he would die here. Corbec took two unstable steps backward, then fell over JS, landing near to his fallen helmet, with the camera still relaying the scene worldwide. [Edited on 08.21.2007 1:29 AM PDT]

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  • “Alright lads and ladettes, we’ve been spotted!” Corbec barked to his followers. “Screw stealth to hell and send these Forsaken bastards packing!” He put his pistol into his left hand, and for the entertainment of those back home, put his AK47 into the right. Then, he recklessly went into the open of the corridor and started shooting. Two Forsaken burst from one doorway, and Corbec put them down. The recoil from firing a full-size Assault Rifle in one hand was terrible, yet refreshingly exhilarating. Before even the spent shell casings had hit the floor, Corbec adjusted his aim and gunned down another Forsaken female emerging from another doorway. Corbec let out a roaring, exultant laugh. It had been too long since he’d had such good fun. Behind him, JS, Girly Spartan, Mike D Halo King, the other survivors and every single person watching the affair worldwide felt a mixture of shock, awe and horror at what Corbec was doing. Like a man possessed, Corbec shot one more Forsaken through the eye as he popped out of a doorway, shrugged off a pistol bullet to his left leg, then shot the throat out of the woman responsible with a blaze of AK fire. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were alight with glee. [i]This is living.[/i] He thought. Corbec regained his stride, weapons still in his grip, and turned to face into the room that the veteran had dived into but moments before. Within, at least three Forsaken stared at him into total disbelief. Then they went into action. Two raised rifles to fire, while a third primed a grenade for throwing. Corbec downed the man with the grenade in a mixture of pistol and AK fire, then stepped out of view before the others blitzed the doorway with gunfire. The dropped grenade exploded by its deceased user, subsequently blowing apart everyone in the room, turning them into cauterised meat and blood vapour. Corbec went back into the room before anyone else got to shoot at him and reloaded, letting the almost exhausted magazines fall away and slammed fresh ones home to replace them. Corbec didn’t notice the blood flowing freely from his leg as he charged into the breach once more. One female Forsaken shooter was taking cover in a doorway a little further on, while two more were moving up from the other end of the corridor to support her. Corbec pointed the pistol at the woman and killed her with a single bullet, while mowing down her hapless friends still in the open with the AK. He was ready to carry on this beautiful slaughter, to revel in the glory of the hunt and relish the thrill, but found he was having trouble. He almost screamed in frustration at the sluggishness with which his leg moved to respond to his wishes. But before he could do much about it, he was propelled back into the room he had come from. Girly Spartan had pulled him in, while the other Floodians rushed down the corridor to cover her, bayonets fixed. “What are you doing! [i]WHAT ARE YOU DOING![/i]” Corbec shouted, his frustration rising. “Saving your skin.” Girly replied calmly, inspecting the wound on his left upper leg, ripping a larger hole in his fatigues to see. “I had the bastards! I had them and you stop me for this?!” He snapped, trying to shake Girly off, but she was persistent. “You’ve been shot!” Girly warned, dropping her backpack and fishing out the first aid kit. She found a small plastic bottle and handed it to Corbec. “Take all of these.” Corbec unscrewed the lid and swallowed the half-dozen pills inside. It was a hazardous amount of general anaesthetic, and still undergoing tests for field surgery on racing horses. But if it could numb pain for horses, it could make humans virtually unstoppable. Girly then used a tourniquet on Corbec’s leg to severely restrict blood flow to his wound, splashed sterilising fluid onto the wound itself and hastily applied a bandage. JS appeared at the doorway, observing Girly’s attempts to keep Corbec ticking over. “How is he?” He asked. “I imagine he’ll live, but I can’t do anything major right now. I’ve given him painkillers and the tourniquet will slow blood loss. I’ve put antiseptic on the wound, so at least that won’t get infected.” She replied, packing her kit away. JS was quietly disappointed. When he saw Corbec shot, he’d been hoping that the bastard just keeled over and died on the spot, but that was just not so. “Sir.” He said, burying his annoyance beneath a veneer of amicability. “What?” Corbec said, trying to shoo away Girly. “We’ve just cleared all resistance out on this level. But we can tell that the Forsaken below us are well aware of us. Do you want us to proceed?” “Is that all you came to me for? Of course we proceed! We don’t finish a job halfway through!” Corbec hissed. “Now if you don’t have anything else to say just get out and make yourself useful.” “Actually, there is something else…” JS added. They were children. Not like the armed teenagers the Floodians were using, or even the Forsaken ones they themselves had encountered before, but real children. Most not even over ten years old, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and confusion. “What the hell do we do with them?!” JS asked, with the queasy feeling that he already knew the answer. Mike D Halo King had found them while searching one of the rooms, a dozen or so children huddled together in one frightened corner, listening to the sounds of their elders being shot to pieces. Two Floodians held them at gunpoint impassively. Some of the children were whimpering. “Kill them.” Corbec said. No emotion tinged his voice. JS’ mouth fell open, truly horrified. Corbec didn’t give a reason before leaving, though JS could imagine it. Something to do with the Forsaken children growing up to hate all Floodians and kill their children instead. The two-strong firing squad racked back the slides of their rifles, switched to fully automatic and began firing. JS stumbled backward from the terrible inhumanity. He felt like retching. But he breathed deeply to calm himself, and made up his mind. He took his M4, ignored the frail screams of the children dying, and walked after Corbec. “Sir!” He called, checking the safety was off. Corbec was talking to the other volunteers, who were gathered about halfway down the corridor with their backs to the end they would soon be heading. “What?” Corbec sighed, turning around. JS was about to raise the M4 and grease the bastard right there, when he was shot in the back. He felt a terrific pain in his lower back, but no penetration-his body armour had stopped the bullet. He dropped flat, fearful of more flying ammunition, and from his prone position watched the action unfold. Mike D Halo King took a round to his face and collapsed, dead. Two more Floodians joined him immediately after. Girly Spartan hid in a doorway, and Corbec was nowhere to be seen. JS rolled onto his back, fumbling for his rifle. The firing squad emerged from the room JS had just been in and met instant death from a blonde woman, alluring and graceful in equal measure. She held a stiletto in one hand-which slashed out the throat of the first boy with a flick of her wrist-and a Desert Eagle handgun in the other-which fired a bullet right into the face of the girl behind the first Floodian. The woman wore denim jeans and a white, sleeveless shirt, with a pair stainless black combat boots. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and if she wasn’t trying to kill him, JS would most certainly have tried his moves on her. But as it was, JS suddenly felt very alone. This woman-who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere-had just brought active Floodian numbers in the bunker down to two or three, depending if Corbec was still alive. JS finally found his M4 and tried to aim it at the voluptuous and lethal woman. Then Girly Spartan came into play-denying JS a clear shot. [Edited on 08.21.2007 1:31 AM PDT]

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  • The first level was utterly empty, not a soul inhabited it. In fact, there weren’t even any rooms. Water pipes and electrical cabling ran along the walls and snaked around corners, and the interior was surprisingly well lit by recessed, fluorescent track lights in the ceiling. That said, the Floodians found a spiral stairway to the next level down and a service lift that could potentially carry them anywhere in the bunker. They disabled it and used the stairs instead. It made no sense to leave a perfectly good escape route open for the enemy. The second level was the one which first held resistance for them. Advancing carefully and quietly down the stairs, with JS in the lead, two Forsaken militiamen, joking amongst themselves, were coming up the stairs toward them. They hadn’t spotted the Floodians when JS squeezed the trigger on his M4, and killed them both outright. They slipped backwards lifelessly and tumbled down the stairs, landing in two crumpled bundles at the bottom. JS bit his lip and looked to the man behind him, Corbec. Corbec, equally worried, just shrugged, then motioned for JS to keep the line moving. JS did so, edging down one step at a time, slowly reaching the bottom and stepping over the dead bodies of his victims. To his right was a solid concrete wall and to his left was a two-way junction, with a corridor straight ahead and a turn to his right. This time, metal doorways similar to the one on the surface were clearly visible, some ajar slightly, some closed. JS used hand signals to communicate his intentions. Five people would come with him and sweep down the right, while Corbec took the remainder and cleared out the rooms directly ahead. Corbec signalled his agreement, and the Floodians went their separate ways. JS glanced around the corner, confirmed it was clear and moved on, padding along silently despite all of his heavy gear. Corbec scampered to the doorway of the closest entrance to him, which sat slightly open. With deft, sharp hand signals he told the team that they would enter and clear after him. Inside, five Forsaken terrorists were playing a jovial game of cards, and the man with his back to the doorway had an Ace Of Spades in his hand. “Hold onto your hats, guys, and get ready for this…” He smiled, eager to clean up the table and take his winnings. Then, Corbec showed up, silenced pistol at the ready. He fired once into the Forsaken with his back to him, the bullet passing through his torso and blowing a hole straight through the Ace Of Spades. Corbec changed targets, fired once and killed another before he even got out of his chair. Then, the next person in the line came through the doorway, riddled another Forsaken with her silenced MP7. By the time the third Floodian was through, Corbec had dropped another Forsaken with a shot to the head, and the last enemy had nearly drawn his pistol. The third Floodian saw to it that never happened. Girly Spartan, with JS right behind her, pulled the heavy metal lever on the first room they were going to storm. JS went in first, with Mike D Halo King hot on his heels. Inside, the lights were off, but JS could still see two rows of bunk beds, and on most of them, Forsaken troops seemed to be sleeping. Men and women of various age groups apparently going from late ‘teens to early forties. Perhaps they were the night shift, resting off their work. It made no difference. [i]Kill them.[/i] JS signed to the others, taking his silenced pistol out and slinging the M4. In the next minute, JS’ group killed every single person in the room without waking any of the enemy up. When they were done, the door was closed up again, throwing the corpses into total darkness. [i]That room over there next,[/i] JS said in hand signals. The locals on the second level didn’t last ten minutes, and before long the Floodians had begun butchering everyone on level three, as well. As they burst into room after room and mercilessly put down anyone within, the Floodians noticed things about their surroundings. Firstly, each level was identical in layout. The levels would appear to anyone watching from a birds eye perspective as a capital I, with the disabled service lift shaft at one end, and a spiral staircase at the other but a little to one side. Secondly, as they progressed, resistance became heavier and heavier. So while the Floodians still kept their rampage completely silent, things became increasingly difficult. Thirdly, and most importantly, casualties began to occur. Two Floodians were wounded, and another killed on the third floor by a Forsaken terrorist that ambushed them with a Knife. Another volunteer was put out of the action when she tripped on a corpse and sprained an ankle. A minor injury, yet in this running battle where the first move was vital, it would be suicide to continue. The wounded had to hobble back to the entrance. The fourth floor, however, was when the fight really kicked off. “Alarm! Alarm! Everyone! Floodians are here! Floodians are here!” Screamed a young man, waving his arms around excitedly and nearly falling over as he was seemingly always looking behind him. “What the hell are you on about?” Said a Forsaken veteran, walking over to him. “Back there! Third Floor! Killing everything!” The younger fighter babbled, petrified. He was pointing at the stairs he had come down, with a look of genuine fear on his face. “You said Floodians are doing this?” “Yes they-” The younger man was cut off mid-sentence as a high-velocity slug tore into the side of his head and blasted a significant proportion of it into scraps of meat. The veteran immediately traced its direction and saw the Floodians, advancing down the stairs to take up position. “HOLY -blam!-!” He exclaimed, and after a moment’s hesitation threw himself bodily through a doorway to his left. Silenced gunfire chased him a second too late to find a target. The Forsaken shouted at his confused comrades, looking at the strange man who had just arrived. “Floodians! Here! Now! Kill them!” The now even more baffled Forsaken looked to each other, then grabbed their guns. The man shouting at them was reliable, and not prone to delusions. If he warned of Floodians, then they really had breached the safest place on the island. [Edited on 09.25.2007 8:58 AM PDT]

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  • “Now, I would very much like to know where Pyroshark is.” Corbec continued. “Go to hell.” Corbec folded his arms, thinking. “How are the living conditions here?” “What?” “The living conditions, how are they here? As good as the weather?” Corbec pointed at a gap in the canopy. The rain had stopped during the night, and now the sky was a dazzlingly clear blue. Squirrel Dude only now realised he was incredibly disoriented. Last that he knew, it was pouring with rain and the middle of the night. “Well?” “Um… They’re good in the bunkers, and OK in the villages. I can’t say that there’s anything wrong with them at all, really.” Corbec nodded. Squirrel Dude knew where Corbec was going with this. He was trying to find particular problem and exploit it, then follow up with a hollow promise of better conditions, vast sums of money or even a pardon for his activities. But Squirrel Dude had come straight back with nothing for Corbec to work on. He was surprised, though, when Corbec switched around to a totally different point entirely. “Alright, sod all this. I’m going to make a deal with you. You, my friend, are going to lead us to where Pyroshark is. When you’ve done so, we’ll let you go.” “You’ll what? Seriously?” “Yes, we will. You can go back to your people.” “I trust you about as far as I can spit you.” “You have my word.” The truth was, Squirrel Dude only knew the last location Pyroshark had been at. The largest and most secure of all the bunkers on the island. There were no guarantees that he would still be here, and Squirrel Dude knew for a fact that it was the most heavily guarded. Of course, Pyroshark had his habit now of popping up anywhere, so Squirrel Dude wasn’t sure if he was still there, but he saw it as a good risk to take. He’d lure the Floodians into the best chance the Forsaken would have at trapping them, then run off to get help. “Then we have a deal.” [i]Four Hours Later.[/i] Squirrel Dude dropped dead to the floor. His mouth was gaping open, eyes glassy and dead, and that came with a spectacularly large crater in his forehead where Girly Spartan’s bullet had exited his body. “Bravo! Bravo! Excellent shot indeed!” Corbec said, lowering a pair of binoculars, which he handed back to JS, the original owner. Girly Spartan beamed a radiant smile. To be praised by the Emperor himself was a pleasure that few ever received, yet her smile wasn’t true, and being an expert liar, Corbec noticed this. “What’s wrong? You pasted the bastard cleanly from what range?” “Only about eighty metres.” Girly modestly admitted. “What went wrong then?” “I wanted to hit him in the back of the neck, but I got more at the back of his head, instead.” She sighed. The silenced shot had been an expertly aimed one, but already Girly was becoming something of a perfectionist. “So, why did we toy with him again?” JS asked. “After all, we knew where Pyroshark was anyway.” JS was referring to the satellites watching Pyroshark’s movements around the island. He had gone missing despite their constant scrutiny until recently, when a satellite spotted him entering a bunker complex. He also had yet to leave it via the front door, so unless there was an underground way to reach another bunker, he hadn’t gone anywhere. “Well, you can’t tell me that toying with people like that isn’t fun, can you?” Corbec said. “No, but-” “Then there’s your answer! Anyway, are we ready to get this started off with?” Corbec, Girly and JS096 stood together amid the dense jungle surrounding the bunker position that Pyroshark was supposed to be cowering in. A dirt road, rutted with tyres that had churned it into mud from the recent rains, sat to their left. It ran all the way up the side of the island’s tallest hill, which was something more akin to a small mountain. The soil was rocky and tough, but still the hardy jungle foliage bloomed, providing the perfect screen for the Floodians to hide behind as they advanced. The road they had followed on Squirrel Dude’s instructions took a left turn a little further on, and cunningly hidden in a sheer rock face was the main bunker entrance. A solid Titanium bulkhead door, that looked for all the world like just more of the rock face, was flanked on both sides by two masterfully concealed gun nests. Made out of logs and trunks harvested from nearby trees, they were draped with camouflage netting, fallen tree branches, and other foliage. The effect was quite convincing. Had they not known where to look, or had the benefit of spy satellites on their side, they might not have known it was there. On either side of the road, the surviving Floodian volunteers awaited the order to strike. However, the time wasn’t right. The Floodians weren’t sure as to what was inside the gun nests, but they wanted them dealt with quietly, that much was certain. Girly Spartan took aim with her Walther 2000 again, grumbling about various things impacting her ability to work. She took a breath in, and became as still as a statue in her crouched position. She didn’t blink, but focused intently on her work. Staring down the scope of her rifle, she noticed two “shuffles” of movement within the first gun nest. She waited for the shuffles-most likely people-to move again, and give her a good idea of where they were. They shifted slightly, and she fired once, the silencer ensuring a barely audible whisper and scoring a confirmed hit, then another, provoking a yelp of pain. “Damn! I must have missed!” She cried, looking to Corbec and JS. “Take aim again! Look!” JS said, observing through his binoculars. Two Forsaken militiamen had tentatively emerged from the second gun nest in response to the yelp. One was walking over to the first impromptu bunker, pistol drawn, and the other was cautiously poking his head out for a better look. Girly didn’t wait for orders and wasted the man peeking out of the gun nest with a headshot. The last Forsaken wheeled around, terrified, then headed for the hidden doorway into the main bunker. “Wait one moment.” JS warned. Girly’s trigger finger relaxed slightly. The man seemed to be fiddling with something, though his torso blocked all view. Then, the bulkhead door swung open. “Now!” JS hissed. Girly pulled the trigger and the militiaman’s brains painted the scenery. “Everyone! Move up! Head for that entrance and eliminate all threats.” Corbec ordered. His AK47 was slung over a shoulder, and he finished screwing a silencer onto his pistol. JS joined him, the silencer already attached to his M4 machinegun. Corbec was able to stow his AK now because the camera was no longer attached to it. By now, everyone was entitled to a little customisation of their equipment. For example, Corbec used some extra tape to secure his old camera to one side of his newly-acquired helmet, and his bright red bandana was tied around the other. (Of course, Corbec’s favourite, battered pair of sunglasses still shielded his eyes.) JS had a small belt of ammunition looped around his helmet-to match those around his torso-and Girly Spartan kept a tally of her kills in pen marks on her own helmet. The Floodians secured the entrance without incident, finding that none of the enemy had survived Girly’s handiwork. They looked to Corbec and JS for their next move. “Alright everyone, this could well be it. The viper Pyroshark is cowering inside this very complex. Your actions are being watched with pride by your countrymen, and will go down in the annals of history as some of the finest acts our country has ever accomplished. I’m proud to have worked with you.” Corbec looked at the group. They were clearly moved by his brief speech, being the patriotic saps and easily bought over retards they were. He flashed them a roguish smile which, though fake, was extremely convincing. It was the type that made men respect him and ladies want him. “But remember: If you’re the last one standing, you’re not fighting hard enough.” He nodded to JS. “OK, two people hold up here, watch our backs and prevent any escapes. Everyone else, make sure silencers are affixed, and form up on me to enter. We’re to sweep and clear each level. Make sure there are no survivors.” JS ordered. He secretly wanted no-one left alive to talk of his involvement with the Forsaken. If anyone got out with that news, his career-and his life-was over. With that, the eleven Floodians not watching the entrance or already dead advanced inside.

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  • “Hey! Girly! Over here!” One of the surviving Floodians called from his spot further along the perimeter. Girly, soaked with rainwater like everyone else, wearily crept over. Her fatigues were splashed with mud and the night-vision goggles she wore were the only thing stopping her from tripping over again in the damned darkness. She, like everyone else, was dog-tired from the constant tension their situation raised. They couldn’t dare to let themselves sleep in case the sniper returned to pick them off. Besides, there were so few of them, if the Forsaken made a determined push while even a few Floodians rested, there would not be enough to hold them back. “Out there!” Said the volunteer, pointing out into the forest. With the constant deluge of water, all of the leaves out there shook and quivered with impacts, giving the impression it was alive. But Girly, with her keen eyes, noticed something else. A vague flicker of movement she noticed on the night-vision. “We’re just getting tired.” Girly moaned despondently. “There’s nothing there.” Groggily, she rolled up the sleeve of one of her fatigues and slung her backpack onto the floor. She opened up the backpack and retrieved a white box with a red cross on the lid. She opened it up, picked out one of many stainless steel syringes and a small bottle of sterilising solution. She poured some of the sterilising fluid onto the nape of her elbow and looked away as she inserted the syringe into it. The medical syringe contained adrenaline, and Girly correctly predicted that she would need it in time to come. At the very least it would keep her awake. She carefully put everything back in its place and put the back pack on again. “Look, if you do see anything, call me on the radio, right?” She said, rubbing her arm from the ache her injection caused. The problem with injecting endorphins and adrenaline was that it only made things worse in the long term. A person could keep loading up on them to stay awake and active, but that didn’t mean the user could avoid sleeping. Sooner or later, the user risked health problems and hallucinations by not sleeping, and that was a serious problem while out on a battlefield like this. “No, really! I see someone!” The same volunteer said, again pointing out into the forest. Girly rolled her eyes and again peered into the dense jungle. Things was, she could actually see someone. In fact, she could see two people coming toward them clearly now. “Everyone, stand to. I see two people approaching from my angle. Hold your fire, do not give our position away and await further orders.” Girly whispered into the radio. She aimed her Walther 2000 rifle and looked through the Schmidt & Bender 2.5-10 x 56mm telescopic scope. She zoomed in the magnification, making the two figures jump forward suddenly, then altered the brightness level of the lit parts of the reticule crosshairs-they were getting in her way. “It’s Corbec alright.” She announced with great relief. “It’s Corbec everyone, calm down. Crisis averted.” Corbec, and after quick inspection, JS were carrying a person each on their backs, bizarrely, and Girly took two people down with her to lend them a hand. “We were getting worried there for a moment, sir.” Girly said cheerfully as they got near. “For their sake, I assume.” Corbec joked. “Oh, naturally.” Girly replied, taking the unconscious man that Corbec had slung over his shoulders. “Who is this?” Girly asked. “The sniper. Be careful with him though, JS made him fall off a tree.” Girly looked at JS, who was handing his own sleeping burden off to a volunteer. “It’s a long story. A true one, though.” JS said sagely. “And who’s he? Why is his hand flopping around like that?” Girly said. This time JS answered. “That’s the sniper’s friend. Be careful with him though, Corbec shattered his wrist and bashed his skull with an AK.” Girly looked at Corbec now. He just nodded. “I take my eyes off you for ten minutes and this is what I get, crippled terrorists for presents? You’re just too kind.” She said with a false sweetness in her voice. “Now I don’t want any misbehaving or going out after dark like this again, you two.” “Yes, mum.” Corbec murmured back, like a scalded child, making JS chuckle. “Ooh, you got burned big time.” JS sneered. “That’s enough of that.” Girly said and playfully hit JS on the back of his head. Corbec put an arm between Girly and JS. “Come now children, lets just get these people tied up so we can get some rest, already. Besides Girly, don’t beat up JS, you know full well he’s as harmless as a kitten.” Corbec quipped. JS laughed, but inside felt no humour. Next time. He thought. Next time and I’ll finish you off once and for all. But he had other worries. Corbec’s intention was to interrogate these two Snap 017 opened his eyes and registered an amazing pain in his leg and just about everywhere else. He was wet, and tied up while standing-by some sort of cable-to a tree. His hair was dripping with water and with horror he realised that his left arm was at a disturbingly wrong angle. He quickly looked away. It was then that he saw Squirrel Dude, similarly tied up like him to a tree. His head was lolled forward and eyes closed. Snap tried to worm and wriggle out of his restraints, but to no avail. He was surrounded by jungle forest, and had absolutely no idea where he was. There was a hill just ahead, but no other visible landmarks. The last thing he remembered was turning to jump from his perch and escape Corbec and his newly-arrived friend. He fell for a moment, then something stabbed into his thigh, followed by a painful fall to Mother Earth. The rest was completely blank until now. “Hello there!” A voice called out from somewhere. Snap looked around in amazement, he knew that voice! It was- “I said hello there!” Corbec repeated, appearing at the top of the hill. He started to walk down toward him. “Clearly everyone on this blasted island lost all of their manners some time ago.” Corbec said, loud enough for Snap to hear despite the distance. “See, back in the civilised world when someone greets you, it’s customary to return the favour.” Snap didn’t say anything. Corbec yawned and stretched once he got close. “Sleep well?” Snap stayed quiet. “I see your friend’s still snoozing.” Corbec strode over to Squirrel Dude and slapped him a couple of times. When that didn’t work, he kicked him in the crotch. And that most certainly roused him from his slumber. Corbec was clad in mud stained combat fatigues, well-worn boots and a red bandana was roughly tied around his forehead, keeping his short-cut fringe upright. He had an old, badly battered pair of sunglasses on, though he took them off and tucked them into a pocket. He had a pistol in a leather holster, both freshly liberated from the ammunition drop. “Well, now I have your full attention, would you like to raise any questions before I begin?” Squirrel Dude was gritting his teeth in pain, so could manage nothing more than the occasional curse. Snap asked instead. “What are you even doing here?” “Me? Well, I’m here to avenge the untold thousands that you maliciously slaughtered in cold blood, of course. All on live TV” “So, the biggest PR stunt ever made?” Corbec laughed. “Ah, dear. We could do with cynical bastards like you, you know?” “Oh, I know. But should you be saying that on live television?” “Well, right now, all cameras are facing away from us. It’s seen as politically unsound for the population to see their leader interrogating peasants like you. You know how things are with politics and all that, I’m sure.” “But it’s OK to oppress them and destroy any resistance to the regime?!” Snap asked, stunned at the attitude this man was taking. How could the killer of hundreds of millions be so genial? This wasn’t right. Corbec, the callous leader of an inhumane government with apparently no regard for the sanctity of human life, had always been in Snap’s view as a monster. As something not human at all. Yet here he was, tall, blonde, blue-eyed and smiling. This was never right. Surely this was some other person? “Well, before you get into a diatribe about the brilliance of freedom and democracy, lets move on to the important part of all this. You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” “You should be reminded that both I and Squirrel Dude have put up with the torture you call Death Games, you ugly sonofa-blam!-. We killed our own friends for your entertainment, and we’re committed to the cause of wiping you and your tyranny out.” Snap hissed. “Just how committed are you?” Corbec asked without looking at Snap. “We’d die for the cause.” “So be it.” Corbec whipped out the pistol from his holster and fired once into Snap’s head, then twice into his chest, in the region around his heart. The preferred method of execution for any professional, be it an MI6 agent or a private operator. Snap slumped like a puppet without any strings to hold it up, the only things stopping him from collapsing being the cable tied around him. Squirrel Dude was transfixed with shock. “Sorry, about that and all, he was just really pissing me off, that’s all.” Corbec said nonchalantly.

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  • JS096, using night-vision goggles to guide him through the drenched woodland, found himself standing by a fallen tree, lying to one side of a clearing in the forest that was overshadowed by the densely packed branches of trees above. He was about to proceed when something grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him over, falling on his face. Stunned, he didn’t resist as he was dragged behind the dead tree next to him. “What do you think you’re doing here!” Snapped someone, in a tone of voice like a hybrid mix of whispering and exasperation. “Looking for Corbec.” JS slurred, still slightly dazed. “If you direct me to him, it would be much appreciated.” JS was slapped, somewhat jogging him out of his confused state “I am Corbec, fool!” Corbec hissed. “Do you know you were nearly shot?” “Shot?” JS said, regaining his lucidity. “No, why?” “I’ve been trailing that sniper for ages now.” Corbec said, wiping rainwater from his face. “Problem is, he’s got a friend. They outnumbered me so I could never get them both dealt with before the other came to the rescue.” Corbec said, taking a quick peek over the top of the log. The sniper’s rifle cracked again, forcing Corbec back down amidst a brief shower of woodchips. “However, now the odds are even.” Corbec said, smiling. “What’s going on again?” JS asked, still rather out of sync with affairs. “I need you to handle the sniper while I toast the other guy, alright? Now, he’s on the second branch up on that big tree directly ahead of us. It’s a little bit further back from the first lot of trees, but you could still spot him, I’m sure.” “When do we start?” “As soon as I feel like it.” Corbec said in a very unruffled way, as if being shot at was normal for him. Slowly, it dawned on JS that this was likely to be the best time he’d get to kill Corbec. He didn’t even have to look at his PDA to know that the tree canopy obscured all view of the ground, his own helmet-mounted camera had yet to be replaced. There was a vague possibility for the remote cameras scattered over the island, but he doubted one was sitting in this remote spot of the island. The only camera he knew for certain was present was Corbec’s, still attached to the side of his AK47. To him, time seemed to crawl to a snail‘s pace. The pounding of his heart drowned out other sounds, and as if on autopilot, he slowly started to raise his M4 machinegun. Corbec was facing away from him, taking another look around the log. All he had to do was fire a single shot to the base of Corbec’s neck. One shot. Bam. Easy. But Corbec turned around. Taking a glance over his shoulder, Corbec’s eyes widened in horror, and he reached fro his AK47. JS then noticed, the eyes weren’t looking at him, but something behind him. “Get out of the way!” Corbec barked, and time came back to normal for JS. He turned, seeing the Forsaken man looming over, machete poised for a strike. Then, Corbec barrelled into JS’ potential killer, throwing him off of the log. Grappling with the Forsaken pinned beneath him, Corbec managed to get his AK between him and the machete. “Go! Deal with the other one! Now!” He grunted. JS stood upright, bringing his M4 to bear on the position Corbec had described. Despite the low quality night vision, he could still make out a crouched figure perched on a sturdy-looking branch. He flicked on the laser sight, put the rifle butt to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. The gun was jammed. “Bollock it!” JS spat, dropped the gun and reached to his belt for his pistol instead. It was a long shot, but he didn’t get to where he was today without being a good aim. His hands brushed against something, and he grasped it, swinging it out in one fluid motion. By then, the sniper had realised he was rumbled. The figure turned to jump from his current branch to the next one down. But JS had already fired, and this time there were no jams or accidents. There was a problem though. JS hadn’t fired his pistol. It was his compact, single-shot climbing aid. So rather than a high-velocity slug screaming toward the target, a serrated, razor-sharp piece of durable metal arced lazily through the air and found its way into the sniper’s thigh. This was, of course, just as the sniper was dropping off the branch he was on. Even this far away, JS heard him scream in agony. The sniper was now hanging over the edge of the branch, secured only by the agonising arrow of metal speared into the meat of his leg. The cable attached to said arrow wound over the branch and was anchored in place by JS’ weight. If it weren’t for the sniper being in such terrible pain, it would almost have been comical. Desperate to break free, the skewered sniper thrashed and squirmed, pulling at the cable to remove the thing that had impaled him. He succeeded, but only then did he remember that Gravity was a cruel, cruel mistress. Suddenly bereft of the cable’s support, he fell. On the way down, he smacked into the next branch down, causing it-and probably some of his bones-to snap with a cringe-inducing thwack. The sniper was undoubtedly out of the fight. Simultaneously, Corbec delivered a devastating blow to the wrist of his still pinned enemy with the stock of the AK47, shattering it. Screeching and swearing, the man was helpless as Corbec bashed him with another swing of the rifle stock, knocking him out cold.

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  • Then Tartan’s head exploded. Splattered with his brain, skin, blood and skull fragments, the Floodians broke into a panic. All of them began swearing and shouting at the top of their lungs, knocking over the table and grabbing as much of their equipment as they could. One over-eager volunteer, standing next to Corbec, (who was sheltering behind a tree,) hefted his M60 and proceeded to blast away whole belts of ammunition into the trees, destroying saplings, throwing up clods of earth and ripping chunks out of older trees. Then with another [i]crack[/i] his throat was shot out. As the boy toppled backward with a torrent of blood pouring from his throat, Corbec noticed what had happened. There was a sniper out there somewhere, picking them off. Fortunately by now, the others had caught on and dived behind cover. Risking more sniper fire, Corbec stretched out an arm and gripped onto the dying volunteer, then dragged him over. The boy’s face had gone pale from blood loss, and his mouth clacked silent curses-his vocal chords had been shot out with just about every artery and vein in his throat it seemed. Noting the damage dealt, Corbec knew the kid wasn’t going to see the next morning. He reached for his radio earpiece and secured a link between him and JS alone. “JS! JS! You there?” “Yeah, what is it? More importantly, where are you?” “I’m behind cover, and I’ve got a man down. He took a shot to the throat, looks serious.” Corbec glanced at Tartan’s slumped form. “Should I send someone over? I’ll ignore Tartan, looks to me like he’s dead as a doorknob.” JS observed. “You think?” Corbec sneered, cramming as much sarcasm into his tone of voice as possible. “Look, I’ve got orders for you. I’m going out there after this sniper guy, and I'm going to take him out. You’re going to take the survivors and head back to the hill where we left our ammo drop. Hold up there and I’ll come over to you eventually. If I don’t come back or if you don’t hear from me in six hours, assume I died.” “But what about that wounded guy you were on about?” JS asked. Corbec didn’t notice that JS didn’t show concern for him. “He’s already dead.” Corbec said, then broke the connection. The gunshot victim had indeed died of blood loss while Corbec and JS were talking, and already Corbec was snatching as much of his equipment as he needed. Corbec’s trusty AK was slung over his shoulder, so he was alright as far as weaponry was concerned. However, Corbec pilfered the night-vision goggles and grenades that the dead man had left behind, also “borrowing” the volunteer’s compact climbing tool and ammo webbing. After putting on his new webbing, Corbec took a moment to carefully adjust his battered pair of sunglasses. He took a calming breath in, then broke cover. Running to his right-and away from the group-he was ducked down low as he dashed for a stand of tropical Sterculia Foetida bushes, recognisable for the radiant shape its leaves took. As he scrambled for the concealment, there was the [i]crack[/i] of the sniper’s rifle firing and a bullet zipped by, gouging a hole in a nearby Jelutong tree. Leaves tumbled lazily down from its boughs in response. Corbec smiled. From the corner of his eye, he’d spotted the muzzle flash of the unseen assailant. The shooter had taken up a position on the third branch from the ground of some broad-leafed tropical tree. Corbec dived into the Sterculia bushes and went prone while facing where the muzzle flash had last been. If the sniper had any common sense about him, then he would adjust his position before taking another shot. Better still, given the sniper had lost the element of surprise, he or she would withdraw immediately. Clearly the person wasn’t that much of an idiot, as Corbec faintly spotted the silhouette of a person dropping down cautiously from branch to branch. Corbec decided to wait for a few minutes before proceeding. Having spent time as a sniper himself, he knew they were shrewd people, and had no intention of being drawn into one of their traps. JS096 was pissed. Not in the drunk sense, just that Corbec had run off like that again. If the guy just kept gallivanting around, then JS would never get the chance he needed to kill the bastard. He and the survivors were still in their positions, huddled behind trees or using mirrors to scan around the sides without poking their heads out. Remaining there for the next ten minutes, JS finally distributed Corbec’s order. But he had plans of his own. “What do you mean you’re going after him?” Girly Spartan exclaimed, borderline horrified. “I’m going to stop-” JS pulled up short of saying [i]“that dumb prick.”[/i] “I’m going to stop Corbec from getting himself killed.” JS said, lying through his teeth. Of course he wasn’t going to save Corbec, if he had a chance where none of the blasted cameras were watching, he’d shoot the bastard. Heck, he might even act like a retard and make things easier for the enemy to waste him. “At least take some of us with you.” Girly pleaded. “You need everyone you have to secure that hill, Girly. Besides, I’ll be faster alone.” “But-” Girly started. “Girly Spartan, you have command until I return. I’ll try my best to get in contact with you while I’m out there.” Before Girly Spartan could protest anymore, JS was gone. Then it rained. An early sign of the coming wet season that would drench tropical climes such as this in a few weeks time, came sweeping in. This wasn’t rain by the standards of people from temperate regions though. This was a persistent, seemingly never-ending deluge, as if an entire ocean had risen from its depths and suddenly decided to plunge on this tiny landmass. Like standing underneath a waterfall, the vast, broad-leafed trees that made up most of the tropical forest were the only thing providing any kind of cover for anyone caught in the downpour. This frustrated JS’ efforts more than if an entire army of clowns or other such misfits bore down on him in an attempt to kill him with a wide variety weapons while he traversed a bottomless pit packed to capacity with broken glass on a tight rope. With a unicycle. And as anyone who has attempted to do such a feat can tell you, it’s pretty tough. JS had been following three sets of footprints in the ground for about an hour now, and at first it hadn’t been so hard. Then the rains came. At the start, it was clear that two of them had received attempts to be removed, but JS was a professional and saw through the clumsy efforts. One was clearly Corbec’s track, and one had to be the sniper, yet JS was stumped as to who’s the third was. The problem was, the rain was threatening to wash these tracks away… Again, the machete was swinging in to lop his head off. Again, he ducked low and rolled aside to avoid the inevitable downward cleave. But even as he used his momentum to propel himself onto his feet, the viciously sharp knife was sailing in for a stab at his gut. He manoeuvred his AK47 around to deflect the jab, the blade bouncing off of the barrel. He sidestepped another swing of the machete, and this time the weapon lodged in the sucking, muddy earth. Corbec grinned triumphantly, the rain plastering his hair to his head, and bashed the owner in the face with the butt of his AK. The man tumbled onto his rear, gasping as he dropped his machete from one hand and his knife from the other. Corbec was ready to mash a hole in the downed fighter’s forehead with the butt of his gun when the [i]crack[/i] of the damned sniper’s rifle sounded out again. Corbec threw himself backwards, and the poorly-aimed shot whistled into the jungle beyond. Eager to get to safety, Corbec ran to a wide, fallen tree, one end decorated with a bush of dead roots, the other with snapped, withered branches like skeletal fingers. He bounded over it and sheltered behind, even as another bullet whickered by, barely missing his head. The log lay across one side of a more-or-less circular clearing in the forest. However, while no trees grew there, the branches and boughs above still reached over to jealously shield the clearing’s ground from the sky. Corbec, sodden with rainwater, was now wearing his night-vision goggles. It was simply too dark and dim to see anything in detail for him, so even the sickly green hue and fuzzy quality that came with the goggles was better than nothing. For about the last half an hour now, he’d been stuck in these running skirmishes. And the order of the day was always the same. He would follow their tracks, then, the person with the machete and knife would ambush him out of the blue. Invariably, Corbec managed to stave off the surprise attacks, but then the sniper was always there to save the day. Corbec knew that as soon as he beat the first attacker, the sniper would have a perfect angle of fire onto him, as he wouldn’t be caught up in close combat with the sniper’s friend. This was exemplified by what had happened just now. Corbec fought off another ambush, but as soon as he had the upper hand, the sniper also could take a shot without the risk of hitting a friend. What happened afterward was predictable stuff as well. The sniper would carry on plugging put-shots away at him to keep him pinned so his ally could either withdraw, or move on to try and flank him. So, here he was. Trapped in a stalemate he saw no easy end to. [Edited on 08.21.2007 1:23 AM PDT]

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