Posted By: GLADIATRRR3000<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 13 November 2003, 1:46 AM
559 walked down the hallway, ignoring the nurses and patients gasping and running away. His M6D was in his back pocket, and he had his MA5B resting on his shoulder. His clothes were drenched in blood, and he had a strange smile on his face. The metal protruding out of his skin glistened in the light. As he walked down the hall, two police officers turned the corner in front of him. "There he is!" one of them yelled. 559's smile grew bigger, and his lowered his MA5B at them. The officer closest towards the corner ran and hid behind it, but the other officer wasn't quick enough. Three rounds pierced his chest, cracking a rib and severing an artery. Blood streamed out of his bullet wounds, painting the walls red. He made a gurgling sound and fell to the ground, twitching. 559 saw that he was still breathing, so he put two more rounds in his head. Bits of skull and brain splattered against the walls.
"Oh, God, no! Charlie!" The remaining police officer shouted. 559 laughed loudly.
"You pathetic humans and your affection towards each other. If you truly believe in a God, why don't you welcome death? You should be happy that your friend died! He went to a better place!" 559 laughed.
The officer didn't respond, but he grabbed his radio and called for backup. When he finished, he grabbed his M6D, took a deep breath, and turned the corner. Just as he turned, five bullets from 559's MA5B shattered his right shin and kneecap. It took the cop several moments before he realized he didn't have a leg, but by then, 559 had walked up to him. He had slung his MA5B around his shoulder, and had his M6D in his hand. 559 was smiling bigger than ever. He grabbed the officer by his throat, lifted him up and put the pistol in his mouth. A tear ran down the officer's cheek. "When you meet your God, tell him it's about to get crowded up there."
559 pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the back of the man's throat, went through his head, and exploded out the back. The back of his head was gone, and replaced by torn flesh, shattered skull, and exposed brain. 559 licked some blood off of his lips, dropped the body, and turned around. He saw a nurse cowering underneath a desk. He walked over, dragged her out, and put the gun against her forehead. "You're going to get me all the reports of soldiers coming in here with plasma burns."
The nurse started crying. "DO IT!" 559 yelled at her face. She crawled over towards a computer, typed on the keyboard for a minute, then stopped. "Well?" 559 asked.
She whimpered. "It's printing. The printer is..." she couldn't finish her sentence. She began weeping profusely, sobbing and crawling to the corner. 559 sighed.
He turned around and saw the printer. He walked over and smiled, seeing the dozen or so reports printing out. He grabbed them, and turned to ask the nurse which rooms these people are in. As he turned, he heard the cocking of a pistol. He slowly looked down at the nurse. She was holding the dead officer's M6D, her hands shaking. She raised it to point at 559's head.
For the first time he could remember, he felt a pang of fear. Normally, a soldier would try to get him in custody before he shot him. This wasn't a soldier, however. She wasn't bound by rules as Marines were. She could feel the anger of the deaths of her colleagues, and shoot him. 559 worked out a plan in his head. He raised his hands above his head. "You wouldn't shoot me, would you?" he asked. "You save lives, not take them."
559 could see that he had struck a nerve. She raised the gun higher and stood up. "What about you, huh? I suppose YOU save lives, too? Those people that you just killed mean NOTHING?" She stepped forward, placing the barrel of the pistol against his forehead.
559 smiled. He ducked, punched her in the stomach, and kicked her across the room. The M6D flew into the air and landed in 559's hands. He pointed it at the nurse and put three rounds in her head. She slid down the wall, blood flowing out of her mouth. 559 cracked his knuckles and turned back towards the printer. He grabbed out the remaining copies, flipped through them, and started walking down the hall. He went into a room on his right. There was a man in a bed, with an IV in his right arm. He had a neck brace and a cast on his left leg. On the table to his right were medals and a flower. Nest to his head was a picture of a woman and two children. Good. 559 thought. He has a family. He has something to live for.
The soldier sat up. "Are you the cause of all that gunfire just now?" He asked, with gruffness in his voice.
"Yes, yes I am. I'm also responsible for the death of... several of your kind. Marines, I mean. If you don't do as I say, you'll join them." 559 said, sitting down on the wounded man's bed.
"Go to hell, shit for brains. I'll never cooperate with terrorists." The man said.
559 sat for a moment. There was silence in the room, then 559 tuned and broke the leg with the cast. "AGH! Goddamn it! It was going to be fully healed in three weeks!" The soldier yelled.
"You think I'm JUST a terrorist? That's it?" 559 yelled. His face turned red, but then he took a deep breath. "Tell me the location of the nearest military base."
"Never, you sack of shit." The soldier said.
"TELL me, or you'll never see you wife and kids again." 559 said sharply.
The soldier thought for a second, then sighed. "Bastard. It's in the mountains near the city of Santa Monica. Just follow the trail leading into the forests and you'll get there."
"Good, good. Now, since you were a good boy, I will kill you quickly, instead of a slow and extremely painful death." 559 said.
The soldier tried to sit up, but 559 slit his throat with the metal from his skin. 559 stood up and walked towards the closet. He opened it and searched around. He found the man's uniform and put it on. It fit almost perfectly. He went to the bathroom and cleaned the blood off of his face and hands, then walked towards the storage closet in an operation room. He grabbed a bottle of morphine, and filled a syringe. The syringe filled up, and 559 stuck it into the skin near his protruding metal. He numbed the area as much as he could, then took a scalpel. He sliced the skin off of his arm and folded it aside, he saw the metal over his arm bones, and took a deep breath. He slid the scalpel under the metal, and tried to pry it off. It took several hours, and by the end, the morphine was wearing off. He threw the metal onto the ground and took a deep breath. The pain started to come back, so he injected more morphine into his arm, then started stitching his skin back up. It would hurt like hell, but now he'd fit in.
He bandaged his arm, and lied down. Tomorrow he would start his ingenious plan.