One hour ago, Esamir was locked and under New Conglomerate control for what seemed like an eternity. Spitfire turrents were littered as far as the eye could see in all directions around all the warpgates. It was impossible to tread enemy lines without feeling the equivilent of having 10 bullets per inch of skin rip you apart. However, the land was deserted, and the faintest sound was that of a Mosquito flying overhead.
"If these winds were any worse, there's be no point to flying at all at these speeds," stated the pilot. He came to a halt, and with quick glances to his left and right, he sat back and enjoyed the view. He unloaded a packet of microwavable hot chocolate mix from the glove compartment and proceeded to make his tasty treat. It was the soldier's vacation from the war, and since all the hustle and bustle of the Sanctuary wasn't really his style, this was just what he needed. He popped the mix inside his PSU mug, set the microwave on 2:00 and leaned his chair back, listening to the hum of his Mosquito lull him into a nap.
It wasn't long before a sharp chill run up his back and flushed his cheeks. He immediatley sat up and looked at his radar, which had a red blip on it. The soldier pushed his body to the right side of the window, turning the Mosquito on it's side. He frantically searched around but to no avail, since he could not see the ground. Then there was a flash of light and the chill that was on the pilot's back was now red-hot. He was panicking, quickly brushing away bobble heads and jewel cases to reach for the steering wheel, and cursing himself for "lightening" the ammunition load for his stereo. He grabbed the reigns of his chariot to the heavens and checked his radar... but the blip was gone. He paused for a moment. He tried reassuring himself that his Mosquito had malfunctioned, and that he hadn't had his machine checked up in months. The frightened but relieved pilot slowly released the controls from his nervous and sweaty grip, and he wiped his brow.
The pilot glanced at his microwave and noticed something. His hot chocolate had been on 34 seconds for 3 minutes. As he realized this, a plasma grenade shattered the Mosquito's window pane and burned itself into the armor of the pilot. It detonated and instantly vaporized the pilot and his plane. On the ground, bits of shrapnel lay resting from the blast. A lone, shadowed figure crouched down beside the pilot's coffin and reached inside. He pulls out MAG-Scatter ammo.
"Great. I wait for three goddammed days offline, and all I got was 97 EXP and ammo my empire can't even use?"
And with that, the shadowed figure kicks the coffin, and dredges off through the furious blizzard and into the mountains.
The End?
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2003-04-30, 06:44 PM
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