“For a hill, men would kill, why? They do not know.”
- James Hetfield, Metallica, For Whom The Bell Tolls.
“Medic!” Shouted the soldiers in the fields of blood and lead, with not even a thought of home passing through their heads before their stomachs were torn open and their heads became nothing but dye packets, staining the once green grass in a crimson shade. Both the assaulting forces and the defending army were faced with casualties - Soldiers on the lawn of the hill, aerial bombers being shot from the skies in the colossal keep ahead, tanks being blown to nothing but charred metal and the stench of raw death. It was not war, it was a massacre.
From the defence’s home base, shots rang out from deep within the exterior halls as the very essence of stealth itself moved through the halls, embedding his many throwing daggers into the flesh of his enemies with a chilling noise of very light, hard to detect footsteps. A man with an azure robe swiftly ran through the halls, his face hidden from the security cameras that recorded the presence of the stranger to the base. His face was obscured by a mask of crimson and not much else, with a sickly grin of green on a face that had a pair of black eye-holes.
With a roar of agony from his next enemy, the man buried his gladius through the heart of the soldier he ran through with not even a moment given for the man to notice his presence. As the green-clothed soldier fell to the floor, the cloaked man dragged the bleeding body off into a corner and soon pulled his sword out, allowing the chest cavity to bleed more as it was no longer plugged by steel. He grabbed the gun of the fallen soldier - a simple M16 with a grip on the bottom of the barrel - And he kept on moving through the halls, affixing a silencer on the gun. It wasn’t completely silent, although it would help make the noise less noticeable to the forces outside.
“Approaching the target now,” the man said into his onyx earpiece at the side of his head, while he slowly pushed himself farther into the hallway. He was stopped by a large, metal door of a cobalt shade, with a rather large lock on it to keep outsiders from entering. He pulled a three foot long wire out from a small brown satchel he wore at his hip, which was beside a brown holster for his M9 Beretta, as he sent one end under the doorway and looked through the other end.
What he was able to witness was three men, all surrounding a woman, bloodied and beaten and without any semblance of clothing nor dignity about her. The men were all laughing harshly, speaking to one another over cigars and wine as the one in the middle shoved the end of a lit smoke into the arm of the woman, forcing another burn in a line of many as well as a drawn out scream. That was his target. Rescue operations were always so fun to him, as it provided a chance for him to do something right for once in his life, and potentially save another.
What the three didn’t expect was a gunshot to ring out and the door to open, as the cloaked figure kicked the door open with anger and malice filling his heart. The first to fall didn’t even have time to notice the man before he found himself fading to black with a single bullet buried within his skull, and the second would feel two shots hit his chest and fill either of his lungs. The cloaked man wanted these three to not only suffer, but to die in agony and pain for what they’ve done to the woman.
The last soon attempted to draw the shotgun sidearm at his hip, but both the hand and the gun found themselves with two bullets within them, forcing him to scream out in agony. The assassin tossed the rifle to the side and approached, grabbing the shotgun and hitting the figure over the head, knocking him out cold. The woman attempted to crawl backwards in fear and shock, although the man didn’t seem to be hostile to her. Instead, he drew his Beretta, held it by the barrel, and started beating the man to death by making his own skull cave in.
“Go,” the masked man said as he tossed the pistol to the woman, who only looked at it in shock. He approached his rifle and picked it up, checking the shots still within before he heard a hammer fall behind him, a full minute later.
“I… I’ll s-shoot..!” The woman screamed, her flowing brown hair burnt at the ends and falling over her terrified face, as she pressed the pistol against the back of his skull. Though the assassin was still calm for whatever reason, so when he turned for her to see the grin on his mask, nothing but fear overcame her. He was sending a message that he was not to be trifled with.
“No, you won’t. Pull that trigger and you lose your only exit,” he said matter-of-factly, as he grabbed a set of five rounds from his satchel for a 5.56x45mm-firing gun, loading them by hand into the magazine for his M16 as he stared down the gun that faced him.
“Do it, end me.”
The woman stared and trembled for a moment, before collapsing to the floor in tears and fear for the killer before her. She was bawling her eyes out at this point, though after what she had just been through, the Azure-cloaked man could feel a bit of sympathy for her. He pulled the gun from her body and pressed a button, allowing an empty magazine to fall onto the ground before her, which she just stared at with wide cyan eyes. She was dumbfounded, thinking that this was some sort of sick, twisted game to him. And in a way, it was.
“I’m on your side,” he started to say, as he tossed the gun over his right shoulder and held it there with that hand. ‘I’m your gallant knight here to rescue you, though I’m not here for the affection. Now, we can sit and speak all day, or we can get to the outside of the base and to exfiltration.”
She sat there with not even a slight hint of trust for the figure, and rightly so. In their interaction she had witnessed three pigs die, held an empty gun to his head, and broken down into tears. She stood and grabbed the empty magazine, clutching it with all her might, which was honestly not too much.
“Alright. Alright, I’ll- I’ll come with you. But don’t try anythin-” She said, though she was cut off by the explosion of a 40mm HE tank shell colliding with the wall, as the assassin tackled her behind the bed within the room they stood tall in.
He was the first to stand, raising the gun at the hole in the wall. Two soldiers walked in, though they soon found bullets riddling their backs, as members of the assaulting force made way into the room with their guns raised. They spotted the assassin and lowered them, as gunshots and bombs ceased to make any noise from far in the background. It seems that the battle was coming to a close, though they had no idea about the hell that was about to be unleashed.
“Captain, have you secured the HVT?” One of the troops asked, as he saluted his commander.
“She’s behind me. Why is there no gunfire?” The azure man sharply asked, as he lowered his own gun and gestured to the woman behind him. He wasn’t expecting the tank to come crashing through, and somebody was most certainly getting punished when this was done, though for now he had a job to do.
“We’ve taken the enemy stronghold, sir. Treestone Hill is ours.” The soldier spoke with a joyous tone as the cries of happy soldiers in the background rang out, though the commander was certainly not pleased. He picked up the unconscious HVT and wrapped her naked and bloody body in a blanket, as he handed her over to the soldier. He said no words, but he nodded towards a helicopter that was landing out in the field. The soldier took her with not another word, and soon brought the woman over to the black transport bird, gently resting her inside as the medics finally fixed her up.
- James Hetfield, Metallica, For Whom The Bell Tolls.
“Medic!” Shouted the soldiers in the fields of blood and lead, with not even a thought of home passing through their heads before their stomachs were torn open and their heads became nothing but dye packets, staining the once green grass in a crimson shade. Both the assaulting forces and the defending army were faced with casualties - Soldiers on the lawn of the hill, aerial bombers being shot from the skies in the colossal keep ahead, tanks being blown to nothing but charred metal and the stench of raw death. It was not war, it was a massacre.
From the defence’s home base, shots rang out from deep within the exterior halls as the very essence of stealth itself moved through the halls, embedding his many throwing daggers into the flesh of his enemies with a chilling noise of very light, hard to detect footsteps. A man with an azure robe swiftly ran through the halls, his face hidden from the security cameras that recorded the presence of the stranger to the base. His face was obscured by a mask of crimson and not much else, with a sickly grin of green on a face that had a pair of black eye-holes.
With a roar of agony from his next enemy, the man buried his gladius through the heart of the soldier he ran through with not even a moment given for the man to notice his presence. As the green-clothed soldier fell to the floor, the cloaked man dragged the bleeding body off into a corner and soon pulled his sword out, allowing the chest cavity to bleed more as it was no longer plugged by steel. He grabbed the gun of the fallen soldier - a simple M16 with a grip on the bottom of the barrel - And he kept on moving through the halls, affixing a silencer on the gun. It wasn’t completely silent, although it would help make the noise less noticeable to the forces outside.
“Approaching the target now,” the man said into his onyx earpiece at the side of his head, while he slowly pushed himself farther into the hallway. He was stopped by a large, metal door of a cobalt shade, with a rather large lock on it to keep outsiders from entering. He pulled a three foot long wire out from a small brown satchel he wore at his hip, which was beside a brown holster for his M9 Beretta, as he sent one end under the doorway and looked through the other end.
What he was able to witness was three men, all surrounding a woman, bloodied and beaten and without any semblance of clothing nor dignity about her. The men were all laughing harshly, speaking to one another over cigars and wine as the one in the middle shoved the end of a lit smoke into the arm of the woman, forcing another burn in a line of many as well as a drawn out scream. That was his target. Rescue operations were always so fun to him, as it provided a chance for him to do something right for once in his life, and potentially save another.
What the three didn’t expect was a gunshot to ring out and the door to open, as the cloaked figure kicked the door open with anger and malice filling his heart. The first to fall didn’t even have time to notice the man before he found himself fading to black with a single bullet buried within his skull, and the second would feel two shots hit his chest and fill either of his lungs. The cloaked man wanted these three to not only suffer, but to die in agony and pain for what they’ve done to the woman.
The last soon attempted to draw the shotgun sidearm at his hip, but both the hand and the gun found themselves with two bullets within them, forcing him to scream out in agony. The assassin tossed the rifle to the side and approached, grabbing the shotgun and hitting the figure over the head, knocking him out cold. The woman attempted to crawl backwards in fear and shock, although the man didn’t seem to be hostile to her. Instead, he drew his Beretta, held it by the barrel, and started beating the man to death by making his own skull cave in.
“Go,” the masked man said as he tossed the pistol to the woman, who only looked at it in shock. He approached his rifle and picked it up, checking the shots still within before he heard a hammer fall behind him, a full minute later.
“I… I’ll s-shoot..!” The woman screamed, her flowing brown hair burnt at the ends and falling over her terrified face, as she pressed the pistol against the back of his skull. Though the assassin was still calm for whatever reason, so when he turned for her to see the grin on his mask, nothing but fear overcame her. He was sending a message that he was not to be trifled with.
“No, you won’t. Pull that trigger and you lose your only exit,” he said matter-of-factly, as he grabbed a set of five rounds from his satchel for a 5.56x45mm-firing gun, loading them by hand into the magazine for his M16 as he stared down the gun that faced him.
“Do it, end me.”
The woman stared and trembled for a moment, before collapsing to the floor in tears and fear for the killer before her. She was bawling her eyes out at this point, though after what she had just been through, the Azure-cloaked man could feel a bit of sympathy for her. He pulled the gun from her body and pressed a button, allowing an empty magazine to fall onto the ground before her, which she just stared at with wide cyan eyes. She was dumbfounded, thinking that this was some sort of sick, twisted game to him. And in a way, it was.
“I’m on your side,” he started to say, as he tossed the gun over his right shoulder and held it there with that hand. ‘I’m your gallant knight here to rescue you, though I’m not here for the affection. Now, we can sit and speak all day, or we can get to the outside of the base and to exfiltration.”
She sat there with not even a slight hint of trust for the figure, and rightly so. In their interaction she had witnessed three pigs die, held an empty gun to his head, and broken down into tears. She stood and grabbed the empty magazine, clutching it with all her might, which was honestly not too much.
“Alright. Alright, I’ll- I’ll come with you. But don’t try anythin-” She said, though she was cut off by the explosion of a 40mm HE tank shell colliding with the wall, as the assassin tackled her behind the bed within the room they stood tall in.
He was the first to stand, raising the gun at the hole in the wall. Two soldiers walked in, though they soon found bullets riddling their backs, as members of the assaulting force made way into the room with their guns raised. They spotted the assassin and lowered them, as gunshots and bombs ceased to make any noise from far in the background. It seems that the battle was coming to a close, though they had no idea about the hell that was about to be unleashed.
“Captain, have you secured the HVT?” One of the troops asked, as he saluted his commander.
“She’s behind me. Why is there no gunfire?” The azure man sharply asked, as he lowered his own gun and gestured to the woman behind him. He wasn’t expecting the tank to come crashing through, and somebody was most certainly getting punished when this was done, though for now he had a job to do.
“We’ve taken the enemy stronghold, sir. Treestone Hill is ours.” The soldier spoke with a joyous tone as the cries of happy soldiers in the background rang out, though the commander was certainly not pleased. He picked up the unconscious HVT and wrapped her naked and bloody body in a blanket, as he handed her over to the soldier. He said no words, but he nodded towards a helicopter that was landing out in the field. The soldier took her with not another word, and soon brought the woman over to the black transport bird, gently resting her inside as the medics finally fixed her up.
