04-02-2015, 08:36 PM
The sound of explosions ring near.
Bullets rattling out of barrels.
Urban warfare.
A scene he’s witnessed countless times before. Every empty magazine dropping to the cement, every bullet that ricochets off the side of the vacant buildings...from atop his makeshift perch, he can practically see it before it even happens.
The senseless killing and mindless violence was something that endeared him to few. There were even those back in the ‘real world’ that claimed he was obsessed with it. But this spot was like a home to him. His squadmates like a family. His weapon was as much an extension of himself as it was a tool to paint the streets with his foes’ gray matter. This was the life he’d grown accustomed to, and he was damn good at what he did.
For three straight days he operated on little sleep. From the moment he awoke, he made his ascent to the spot he had grown so familiar. His body fueled by heavily caffeinated sodas and food that was so heavily processed that that it couldn’t be much further off the nutritional pyramid than unmixed cement, he ran purely on the thrill of the hunt. That feeling that washed over him as he looked down the scope of his weapon to see his enemies’ exposed weaknesses, and the subsequent squeeze of the trigger that ended their lives was the ultimate rush.
But today, today would be different. Sure the sights and sounds were the same, the gunshots and explosions were a constant reminder of the death and mayhem that lurked around every corner, but there was a buzz among his squad. Today’s war had not gone as anticipated. The crew had become so accustomed to squashing those that would stand against them that they seemingly forgot the dangers that accompanied the war.
And then the first man fell.
Not a man in the unit wasn’t taken aback when they received word that an enemy sniper had dropped one of their own. This untouchable, cohesive unit just suffered the first casualty in recent memory. In that moment, they no longer felt like gods of the battlefield. They were fractured. Unsure of what was to come next.
All of them, except for Bruce.
The lone wolf of this pack, Bruce didn’t share the team’s bewilderment. His lost comrade was merely a blip on the radar. Where confusion and frustration set in for his brothers, he was filled with a sudden surge of hope and excitement. Could this be the one talented enough to give Bruce an honest-to-God challenge? For the first time in days, he felt that rush again. His vantage point was perfect. If this new threat were to emerge, he would surely be the one to take him down. And yet, he hoped it wouldn’t be that simple. Could this newfound adversary simply be a fluke, someone in the right place at the right time? Perhaps his brother-in-arms was merely being careless? No, he had a good a feeling about this one. No struggle, no warning, just one clean shot to end the life was all it took him. This couldn’t be luck. It was the real deal. He readied his weapon and eyed down the scope, surveying the battlefield. His magnified view revealed nothing of interest at first: abandoned buildings, burning vehicles, bullet holes. His scope danced about quickly yet effectively, never resting on any one object for more than a mere moment.
The hunt was on.
He couldn’t help but smile at this invigorating opportunity. As he searched the warzone he began to pose questions and spin his own narrative about the man he so eagerly wanted to track down.
“What’s your name?â€
“How many have you killed?â€
“Where are you?â€
“Are you hiding?â€
“Do you know that I’m looking for you?â€
“That I’m going to find you?â€
“That I’m going to fucking end you?â€
“Is that why you’re hiding from me?â€
“Are you clinging to your one moment of glory?â€
“Because it’s fucking over with the next bullet that leaves this barrel.â€
“I can promise you that.â€
His own one-sided conversation seems to only add to his growing excitement as he begins to whistle while still making a frantic, yet precisely controlled, sweep of the battlefield. He’s managed to drown out the chatter of his squad, the explosions, the hail of gunfire. To him, this war just became a one-on-one battle for survival. One lone wolf versus another. Two men with no qualms about sending a bullet straight through the skull of the other.
And there it is. To the untrained eye, it was nothing. And for that very reason, an untrained eye would certainly meet a quick and grim demise. But not Bruce. That split second was all he needed to see the figure darting behind the cover of a broken down cargo van three streets over. This war had no shortage of ‘bad guys,’ but somehow he knew that this was the one he wanted. Call it experience, intuition, wishful thinking...whatever you’d like, but to him this was the moment he’d been waiting for. Bruce drew a deep breath as he focused on the intruder’s cover. Had he seen him yet? Was he planning his next shot? Did he have any idea that Bruce’s crosshairs were ready to lead him to the afterlife? Bruce’s finger lightly rubbed against the trigger, ready to squeeze as soon as he had a clear line of sight to anything vital. He waited for what seemed like an eternity for something, anything, to come out from behind that van. His heart began to race as the realization that this prized kill was merely moments away began to set in.
And then Bruce saw it.
A shadow, moving slowly towards the rear of the van.
Bruce inhales slowly, licking his lips in anticipation.
The shadow moves closer to the rear of the van.
Bruce’s finger rests on the trigger.
The barrel of his foe’s rifle briefly dips below the bumper.
Bruce smiles and aims where he anticipates the man to spring forward and launch his assault.
Bruce!â€
“Bruceeee!â€
“What!?â€
“Dinner’s ready! Mom made gnocchi!â€
“I don’t fuckin’ care! I’m busy!â€
Bruce turns his head back towards the screen, where the opposing player is in clear view of the scope, aiming back up at him.
“Fuck.â€
He barely manages to get the word out before the character on the screen falls backward, dead. The kill cam showing a precise shot to the skull by the opponent.
“Goddamnit! I almost had a kill streak!â€
Bruce throws the controller across the room, knocking his Xbox One off the entertainment center. He rubs his eyes in frustration and reaches for the large, green bong next to his chair. He sighs deeply before taking a long, deep hit off it. He stands up and proceeds down the large, curving staircase to the family’s dining room. Bruce’s father, Stanley, stepmother, Kimberly, and younger sister, Rebecca, are all seated around the table. Stanley is in the middle of one of his work stories that Bruce has deemed too boring to pay attention to. Kimberly is nodding along with a fake smile plastered across her face, almost as if gauging how quickly she can down a couple bottles of wine without the family raising any questions about her sudden overindulgence in Merlot. Rebecca is texting away at her phone, ignoring the rest of the rest of the room like a typical preteen. Bruce sits down and immediately his father turns his nose up at him.
“You smell like a Cheech and Chong movie.â€
“Who the Hell are they?â€
“You kids today, I tell ya…â€
“Yeah, yeah.â€
“Your mother made gnocchi.â€
“She’s not my mother, she’s just some twit with an overdrawn checking account and a tight hole.â€
“I heard that!â€
“I wasn’t whispering.â€
“Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass? Why can’t you be more like your little sister?â€
“You’re right pop, why don’t I act more like a privileged, white teenager? Like oh my gosh, I can’t even. Fuck all that, man.â€
“Anything is better than my stoner son who lives in his bedroom playing video games and drinking red bull all day.â€
“Like professional wrestling?â€
“Come again?â€
“I talked to some guy at some wrestling company called the XWF. I told him I wanted to sign but he said I wasn’t talented enough. So i offered to pay him to let me wrestle.â€
“You got a job where you pay your employer? Only you, I swear to god. Why on Earth would you want to wrestle? You’re not exactly big, or strong, or good looking.â€
“I get a chance to fly round and hit people in the mouth while giving away your money, where’s the downside in it? I mean, it’s not exactly the greatest of wrestling promotions since they don’t even have their own video games. Honestly, it’s more like a homoerotic carnival from what I’ve seen so far. But my boys are coming with me, and I’m already scheduled to have a match.â€
“Without any training? You’re going to break your neck.â€
“Thank God you’ve got some fly ass medical insurance then, huh? Don’t worry, from what I’ve seen from Hero Xtreme and Kruzifix they’re basically two stupid, spineless geckos and compared to them I’m a goddamned sexual tyrannosaurus. This Hero guy in particular, he’s a real spoonful of liquid shit, I tell ya. I can’t quite tell if he’s purposely trying to convince everyone that his IQ is lower than a sleeping girl’s panties at a Bill Cosby cocktail party, or if he’s one of those poor dudes whose mothers scraped away a couple of the necessary chromosomes with that coat hanger she so desperately jammed up her twitchy hole when she found out that her cousin Troy didn’t pull all the way out the night he introduced her to Zima. Poor guy, we should be teaching these mentally shitfucked creatures how to color inside the lines, not stick them into a wrestling ring where they’re surely going to get their asses whipped by anyone with a pulse and the ability to take 3 steps in any direction without losing their breath.â€
“You shouldn’t speak about the mentally disabled like that.â€
“Well this one thinks he’s a god and fucks homeless women. He’s pretty much bringing it all onto himself. I hope he wears his special helmet to the match because I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing that’s going to save him from a vegetative state once I toss his stupid ass off the scaffolding at Warfare. He wants to pretend like he’s some badass veteran that’s better than all of us ‘rookies?’ That’s cool, whatever. Watch how fast that opinion changes once I beat his ass just like everyone else he’s come across. I'm going to whip both these clowns' asses and make my motherfuckin' mark in this bitch.â€
The scene fades to a hazy green as Bruce pulls a joint from his pocket and sparks up at the table, clearing the room while he laughs and gives his plate of food to Rusty, the family golden retriever.
Current Universal Champion
(1x) X-Treme Champion
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