Off Topic > Forum Games
Continue this story.
Sirrus:
I started this story on a whim. A story about a sniper (I know, I know, boring) Anyway, I'm still going in the story itself, but here's the first major chunk. Take it from here. (Someone write a paragraph or so and the next person pick it up)
(and no 'u kil urself ur ded hurr hurr hurr' posts. A kitten gets cancer every time someone makes an idiotic post like this)
Breathe. Don't think. Point and shoot. The sniper lay on his stomach, as most do. He was waiting, again, as most do. His job was simple. The higher ups had done all the thinking, the hard stuff. His job was to pull the trigger. The hard stuff.
Why he had decided to do this, he would never fully understand. The fact was that right now, he had to pull the trigger, hit his target, or else he would be in a bad way with some worse people. There was a good chance that if he didn't accomplish his task, there would be someone else pulling the trigger on him.
"Target in sight, blowing the window in five..."
The seconds slowed. Breathe, don't think, point and shoot.
"Four..."
Why did I do this?
"Three..."
stuff. This is really going to happen.
"Two..."
forget. Stop breathing. Steady the gun. Acquire the target.
"One."
The window in front of him shattered into a million pieces as the small charge broke the window. Time slowed. The explosion had not created fire and plumes, as you might expect, but created a loud bang. His target looked at him. He looked at his target.
Breathe. Don't think. Point and shoot.
Plasmus:
Suddenly,he realizes he had shot the mayor,he hears sirens,one a cop,anotehr an ambulance.
He runs for his life,waiting to be caught.But alas,he was not.he ran all the way to a cliff.
He fell.
continue THAT!
Sirrus:
*sigh*
Why did I expect this to be serious?
Lt Chub Chub:
I have no idea, why? The majority of people who will post in this will just post crap like that. Any ways nice start I may post a continuation in a minute or two (I'll write one after I post this).
Every thing moves as if the world were encased in Jell-O. You stare at the target, he stares at you, and your bullet speeds for his head. You know the speed at which your 50-caliber shell is speeding towards his head but it seems to just hang in the air between you and him so you stare on. What seems like forever but was really just a few milliseconds after you pulled the trigger a man pushes into your target trying to grab his wallet during the panic the window smasher charge caused in the streets bellow. stuff, you think, as time seems to speed up then fast forward. You watch as you bullet goes through the would-be pickpocket’s head and out into your targets right shoulder. You run, you run like you never ran before through the door of the rented apartment turned sniper encampment, down the stairs, and to the man whole out behind the building. You were screwed. You messed up big time and your employers weren’t going to be to happy. Not only did your target survive he now new he was a target, he also had ample time to see his would-be killers face before he was hit. If he gave any one who knew any thing a description of the shooter you would be found out, and with you your employers. They would want you dead, for as you knew all to well, dead men point no fingers.
Then you die hur dur 8D.
I would have kept going but it wasn't all that great and you would have been mad about me hogging the topic. And just a bit of advice: who ever posts next should probably say something about him scouting out the apartment before hand and having noted the sewer as a possible escape route.
Sirrus:
You kinda of remind me of me a year or two ago, writing wise.
On a side note: a fifty caliber sniper rifle?