James Rhodes; War Machine (thewarmachine) wrote in oh_marvelous, @ 2010-05-09 14:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | z: om1: !complete, z: om1: location: afghanistan, z: om1: location: pakistan, z: om1: past character: james rhodes |
Narrative: I do what no one else will.
Characters: War Machine
Setting: A mountain pass on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan.
Content: R for blood and gore.
Summary: James ambushes a convoy of men who have recently laid waste to a village and are on their way to do the same to another. It's something he cannot allow.
James did not hesitate to embrace Tony briefly. For one, he could not have possibly cared less about what anyone else in the bar might think of the hug. For two, he was more than confidant that he could drop any man in the bar that did poke fun at them with minimal exertion. Thinking about it, he almost wished someone did make sport of them, as the thought of
I do not like to kill.
The staccato fire of automatic weapons echoed through the mountain pass. Men screamed and shouted, in both fear and fury as their bullets either entirely missed their target or bounced off harmlessly with a metallic twang. Into their midst, came rocket, beams of energy, and a virtual onslaught of ammunition fired from a shoulder mounted mini-gun.
But I do what must be done. What no one else will.>
Body parts flew in all directions. Men found themselves cut in half by the unrelenting fury of bullets. One of the troop transports exploded, incinerating still others. In the brilliant flash, time stood still as the few men who were still alive and able to fight finally saw their attacker. An armored figure with shoulder and forearm weapons blazing.
So I decided to give these men the same chance they gave the butchered villagers I found.
Someone drew up an RPG and pulled the trigger, but the projectile exploded as it left the projectile, intercepted by the armored avenger. The man exploded in a sickly mass of flesh, gore, and red mist. Of the half dozen men still alive, only one continued to fire with a mad, insane look in his eyes-not entirely like the eyes of some of the victims these men had so recently slaughtered. That man, too, fell dead as War Machine made land fall among the dead, the burning, and the maimed.
None.
The metallic face plate of the War Machine armor was cold and unforgiving, but James was not. He took no joy in what he did now. No satisfaction. The only thing he knew, and that drove him, was the knowledge that these men were on their way to slaughter another village as they had the remains of the last one he had just come from. He did not want to kill these men, but he knew if he did not that more innocent blood would be spilled, and that was not something he was going to let happen. Even if it cost him his soul.
His weapons systems easily put a mark on on the fleeing men, and his mini-gun put four of them down with perfectly aimed shots. As he stood in his armor, which seemed to gleam from the raging fire around him, he watched the lone survivor escaping into the night. James knew that the man would return to what remained of this terrorist cell and tell of everything that had happened here. It was his hope that the man's words would discourage further atrocities upon civilians, but... he doubted it.
And soon enough he knew he would have to become Death once again.