Counter Strike Fan fic (mood piece)

[deathwishboy]

Ok I love mood pieces of writting so I decided to do my own version, based on Counter strike in away. And no this isn't going to be me telling you about my high level or what have you this is a mood piece about war.

 

So enjoy

 

Counter Strike: Unholy battle

 

Below the mighty swirls of the helicopter blades, Johnson could see nothing more then a mixture of red raw dust and the golden spray of shiny bullet’s from countless Clarion’s. Massive waves of sharp large rocks cut into Johnson’s uniform, tearing into the very heart of this battle.

 

Within the Unholy battle of these two warriors, with no sign of waving a white flag on either end, the cries of civilians could be heard screaming almost scratching at Johnson’s leg for sanitation. Freedom from a world that had just been one giant recoil of fighters weapons, none stopping eruptions from the volcano’s of terrorist hands, unnatural light and a useless display of graveyards spread across their land.

 

Johnson grabbed his Clarion from his seat and raised it so that it was eye level with his helmet. The dust from the war zone below had died his uniform red and brown, red from the blood and brown from the dust. Pushing his feet further towards the edge, Johnson saw the red cloud vortex in a different more horrifying view. It had become a monster, an ugly deformed monstrosity of unnatural doings, created by the sickness of man and the Unstopping manufacture of human death factories. It spat the blood of the hostages at Johnson.

 

Rolling in the thick of this chaos the monster laughed and tormented Johnson, before it too like the land below thus smothering itself on it’s own sick violent rage. Johnson reached inside his head, squeezing inside he came to a wet pact on his forehead, Johnson let out a sigh of relief he was still alive, he still felt fear. The Cable holding Johnson inside the helicopter suddenly leapt forward silently and Johnson went flying off the edge of the Helicopter.

 

The dust covered most of Johnson’s sight but he managed to look up and see a wall of fire crawling out from the tail of the helicopter, Johnson knew what this meant he would have to make a blind jump and hope that he landed on the ground with his knee caps still connecting his legs. As the helicopter worsens the cockpit blew up, covering Johnson in glass and more blood, but now from the home and not from foreign innocents.

 

It was no good now Johnson had to jump it was his only chance of making it out of here…Johnson would of thought…alive but he would have to view his prospect of dieing when he hit the ground and what waited for him there. Johnson made up his mind, keeping hold of his Clarion, his hand trembled when it touched the wire but relying on his primal instincts his hand unhooked the wire from his Uniform with no second thought.

 

Johnson fell; when he began he thought that he may survive this, but no sooner was that hope snatched away from him, than a wave of dust and rocks blew up into his helmet, almost suffocating him. Johnson choked on the rocks and blew out the rumble but still to no avail. He was falling fast and he was going to hit hard. Johnson took in what might be his last breath of rocks and dust, and waited for the Almighty god to tip the scale in Life…or in Death.