Mutually Assured Destruction
Posted By: Chuckles<chucklecity@yahoo.com>
Date: 18 June 2004, 1:07 PM
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A warm shotgun barrel pressed against the soft flesh of each cheek as Lexicus was carried towards his Sidewinder base. They had paid a dear price to take him alive; maybe too dear. They were only able to leave one Spartan to guard the flag they had captured. Now to get their own back.
They hoped the Clowns would deal.
Chuckles stood with a sniper rifle out in front of the Blue base as Nate and Turpertrator approached. He noticed that they had ripped off Lex's helmet and roughed him up a bit. They won't live long enough to regret that he mused. He had seen Brice position himself moments earlier on the ridge to the right. There had been no attempt at stealth. The message was clear: any hostile move, and Lex dies.
BoJo stepped out of the base and stood to Chuckles' right as the three came to a stop. He carried his shotgun uneasily. "Kind of you boys to escort old Lex back to us" Chuckles said utterly without humor. "A lot of guys running around here with guns. A body could get hurt."
Turp was not amused. "Bring our flag out now or somebody will get hurt. Lex will die. We aren't likely to miss at this range, " he said as he finally cracked a smile, "but even if we did, Brice would snipe him from the ridge. That might not be as messy as a shotgun from close range, but Lex will be just as dead. Now I've run out of things to say. Get our flag."
The Clowns stood silent. Bojo seemed nervous. Too nervous. Nate thumbed his trigger. That young clown was a hothead. A hothead who was deadly accurate with any weapon. If he lost his grip, all hell would break loose. Chuckles spoke quietly: "XrayJ, bring out the flag."
"Belay that order!" Bojo yelled, looking at his brother with contempt. "None of us, not even Lex, is more important than the mission! He knew what he was in for when he signed on."
Chuckles walked over and lifted Bojo off the the ground. The sniper rifle forced the younger clown's chin back until he was staring at the sky. He spoke softly. "Are you in charge here little brother?" BoJo could barely breathe, let alone answer. "Contradict my orders again and I will kill you." He dropped him gasping to the ground just as XrayJ stepped out of the base and threw the flag down behind them.
Bojo leapt to his feet and aimed his shotgun at Chuckles who was standing right in front of Nate. He cocked it loudly. "Sorry Charlie."
In that instant Chuckles dropped to the ground with his sniper rifle. Bojo's blast took out a very surprised Nate just as Chuckles drew a bead on Brice. Two down.
Turper realized the truth too late. Lex was already diving for Nate's gun, when Bojo put a gun to his head.
Then it all came apart.
A noobie on the upper level of the base tossed a grenade, trying to help. It exploded between the clowns. Bojo practically vanished before Turper's eyes. Chuckles lay nearly bent in two from his impact with the front of the base. Lex was thrown to the ground.
Turper walked over to Lex, put his foot on his chest and pulled the trigger. A moment later, XrayJ came running out of the base. Turper was waiting for him with a shotgun. Next the noobies came pouring out. The noobies died as well. Now for the flag.
The flag was to his left in front of the base about twenty yards away. As he came near it, he saw Chuckles sitting in the doorway. A shotgun lay on his lap. His left arm which was barely attached, lay there too. One eye was swollen almost shut; the other was gone. He grew more and more pale as a jagged wound in his side bled. His right arm (his shooting arm) was undamaged. Turper halted.
"Funny what a man thinks about at a time like this, isn't it?" the Clown said with a raspy voice. "I always wondered what it was like to die. How about you Turper?" Turp was silent. "Thousands of questions. What is it like on the other side? What is the Big Guy like? Will I have to answer for all of my frags? Will we . . . " The clown's eye rolled back into his head and he slumped forward. Turp started again for the flag.
"How about you Turper?" The weak voice spoke. He stopped again, this time almost within reach of his victory. "Don't you wonder? Don't these questions nag you too?"
"Yes."
Turper spoke the solitary word, hoping the clown would die before he heard it. He didn't.
"Lucky dog!" the clown mused in a weak voice, "Luckeee Dog!!! . I envy you. Lucky dog!"
Turper wondered whether he was even coherent. "What do you mean, you envy me?" Instinct told him to raise his shotgun. Chuckles' breathing was shallow.
"Because," the clown wheezed,"tomorrow I will still be nagged by those questions, but you . . ." he began to raise his shotgun, " . . . you won't."
Both guns belched flame.
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