I thought I might have posted this before, but I looked way back in this forum and didn't see it posted. So I'd like to introduce you to my one and only finished story, A Counter Terrorist's Life. If any of you have played Counter Strike, this is basically a mission in the map CS_OFFICE. I have altered the surroundings a bit, however, so don't expect to know exactly where they are according to the actual Counter Strike map. Use your imagination, neh? Well, on with the show!
NOTE: I did not add chapters. This is a short story, so I never really saw the point. Sorry if this is of any inconvenience to anyone.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
A Counter Terrorist's Life
Hovering overhead of his drop point in a helicopter, Joseph checked his weapon, making sure all parts worked properly. Satisfied with his run-over, he felt at his belt, and confirmed that his pistol was in its holster and his grenades, all types, were properly attached. He turned, making sure the team of four he commanded were doing the same. They were. He viewed them with pride, the men he had trained to follow every order without a moment’s hesitation, to respect him, and most of all, to fight. They all had their nicknames. There was Short Stuff, who was only five foot three, but made up for his height in his skill. He had shaggy blond hair that fell down to his chin, and brown eyes. And then there was Hot Head, whose hair was fiery red hair that fell to his shoulders. He had a short fuse, and with a well placed comment, he would explode with a flurry of curses, and every so often the stray punch. He had abnormally-colored orange eyes, glinting in the rising sun. He couldn’t forget Trigger. The jumpy, trigger-happy man was always eager to spray an area with random gun fire, just for the sake of shooting. He had short brown hair, spiked at the front. His ice-blue eyes rested on his gun, which he was admiring as he was preparing it for the mission ahead. His finger, which rested a little above the trigger of his gun, twitched with impatience. He had customized his weapon with a trigger that reacted almost to the touch, so he could get a reaction from it right when he applied pressure. There was also Billy. He was a young, novice new recruit, and had recently been assigned to the team. His green eyes darted back and forth, anxious and jumpy. His hair, which he had dyed blue, was grown in a mullet, hair growing down in the back. Joe eyed him with distrust. He could never manage to accept a troop as a friend and comrade until he proved himself in battle. He hoped he wouldn’t fail him. Billy didn’t have a nickname yet, as all the other members of the team had gradually received theirs relating to their personality or behavior in battle. Since he had just joined the team, he had the simple nickname of Newbie, which was a title for an inexperienced or untested troop. And lastly, there was Joseph himself. He had dirty blond hair, done in the classic crew cut. He had grey eyes, deep pools of wisdom. He was leader of the group, and he had been for quite a while. Gradually, they had become as close as brothers, and he received the affectionate title of Psycho, because of his behavior around grenades. Ever since he had started his career, he couldn’t keep his fingers off of them. Every time before he left for a mission, he loaded up on every grenade imaginable, from the regular HE grenade to flash bangs to smoke grenades. He had an unusual amount, being the only one allowed to carry more than one of each kind. He used the opportunity to bring at least five. They were strung up across his chest, and he fingered them lovingly, knowing that none of them would be there by the time the assignment was over. Once he threw one, he felt the urge to throw at least four more. It was as addictive as drugs, he just couldn’t stop. Whenever an unlucky enemy was confronted by a barrage of grenades by Psycho, there was rarely a scrap of flesh left of him when it was over. They all crouched, ready to drop. With a nod to the pilot, Psycho signaled to lower the helicopter so they could depart. Slowly, the heavily armed copter lowered to a couple feet from the ground, and all the team jumped out onto the rough cement below.
“Ok men. You know the drill, but this is a slightly different scenario than usual. The terrorists aren’t trying to destroy a target, they want a ransom. They’re in this office building here,” At this point, Psycho motioned towards a large building behind them. “They are holding all office employees hostage…except the ones they’ve killed, of course. We’re supposedly the ones that are bringing in the ransom money…But we’ll show them different.” At that, he raised his gun menacingly. “Our job is to get in there, eliminate the terrorist threat, and rescue those hostages. You got that? I’m not repeating myself.” Nods came from all troops, so Psycho continued. “Ok, then. Hot Head, you’ll be in charge of a team, which is you, Trigger, and Short Stuff. You will be entering from the front of the building, and will encounter the most resistance. Remember, no casualties, except for the terrorists. I’ll be heading through the garage with Newbie. If all goes as planned, we’ll meet near the restrooms, here.” He pulled out blueprints of the building, and directed their attention to a short hall, in which the entrances to the bathrooms were located. “From there, we’ll head into the main part of the office, where the hostages are being held. That is where the most concentrated amount of enemies will be located, so we have to cautious. You have your orders, men, so move out!” With that final word, he walked off into the garage, motioning for Newbie to follow. Psycho walked through the graffiti-covered garage with Newbie, noting all key points of cover. He peeked out from behind a few boxes and saw the stairwell leading into the building. There was a single guard there. No problem. Screwing the silencer onto the barrel of his M5 Carbine Rifle, he couldn’t help smirking. With the silencer attached, there wouldn’t be as much as a little hiss of air when the bullet left the barrel. Normally, it would make a large bang, warning most all nearby troops of an attack. With the attachment, however, it would be a silent kill; the only noise being that of the body crumpling onto the floor. He motioned for Newbie to get under cover, and poked the point of the gun out of a small hole between the boxes. With the pull of a trigger, he eliminated one of the many threats that he was to encounter. Back at the front yard of the office building, the other team was ready to head in. Trigger was impatient, and just about to draw out a grenade and chuck it through the window. Once Hot Head saw what he was about to do, he growled in rage. “Get back over here, you idiot!” he reprimanded fiercely. “We’re not ready yet!” He looked at Trigger’s gun, and then grinned with light humor. “Did you check if your ammo was even loaded?” he said with a chuckle, eyeing the empty void underneath the gun that should have been occupied by an ammo clip. Trigger blushed furiously, and retreated back to where the rest of his team was crouching. He snatched an ammo clip from his belt and shoved it into a small spot on the under surface of his gun. Locking it into position, he glanced over himself, making sure that now everything was ready. Hot Head had cooled down, and now eyed him with approval. “Ok, good job. Everyone else ready? You’d better be. Let’s go.” They stood and raised their guns to rest on their shoulders, all in practiced unison. Short Stuff remembered back to when he was still in training. He and his group had gone out into the field, rain or shine, practicing simple movements until they became a natural reflex. Whether with sweat dripping off his face in the broiling sun, or shivering from cold in the pouring rain, they practiced drawing their hand-guns, then inserting them back into their holsters, or removing a grenade from his belt, or the simple raising motion of a gun to a shoulder. He had thought then that it was stupid and foolish to waste valuable time doing such trivial motions over and over, but now he appreciated it. He had the gun resting on his shoulder, finger on trigger, eyes alert and searching for any sign of foreign movement. He swiveled on his heel, turning to face the inside of the small anteroom before the entrance of the building. As he had expected, there were two terrorists set in strategic positions, ready to shoot. With no other option, he fired an RPG into the middle of the two. He dived for cover, feeling the explosion. He waited a couple seconds, and then peeked out. Aside from blood spattered on the wall, there was nothing left of the guards. He motioned the OK sign, and Hot Head took the lead again. He went to the side of the door, and shot a few experimental shots through. Sure enough, a few answering bullets shot past him, letting him know that there were more than a few more enemies to contend with. With a simple looked, he conveyed the question are you ready? to his team. They responded with a nod. They were going in.
With a nod to Newbie, Psycho confirmed that the coast was clear. They moved into the area surrounding the stairs, Newbie wincing when he saw the dead body. Psycho approached the prone figure, removing all of its grenades and adding them to his own already over-stocked *****. He viewed his options. He could send an HE grenade into the stairwell to clear out any potential enemies, but of course that would alert the terrorists of his presence. He could chance his luck and charge up the steps, but he and Newbie would be butchered by the gunfire if there happened to be any enemies. Neither option seemed too tempting. He then noticed a garage door on the opposite wall. He raised his eyebrow, and looked at Newbie questioningly. His partner nodded, knowing what Psycho meant. This kid caught on fast. With another silent shot, he removed the lock from the door and ran forward. Lifting the door open, he ducked under it. Once on the other side and Newbie with him, he again went over the possibilities. He was in another yard. To his left was an entrance that would have him halfway up the steps. That wouldn’t accomplish much. If he continued straight forward, there was another garage door, closed of course. He assumed it led to another section of the garage. He wasn’t going to risk running into a dead end, so he would rather not go that way either. Lastly, if he continued left, skipping the extra entrance to the stairwell, there was a dumpster up against the wall and above it two large windows that presumably ended up right at the top of the stairs. That was the most desirable route, Psycho decided, but the most risk. If they attempted to climb up to the top of the dumpster, they might make too much noise, attracting more terrorists. If they were caught, they could be shot, unable to defend themselves with both hands being used to climb up. He decided, however, that they would have to chance it. Again, Newbie knew the plan without Psycho having to explain. He grinned. Maybe having this guy tagging along wasn’t so bad after all. They sprinted across the yard and crouched with their backs against the wall, looking up. No sign of movement. Apparently the information he had received back at base was correct. There was little resistance through the back way.
“Boost me up.” Psycho whispered to Newbie. Without a word, his comrade crouched down, allowing Psycho onto his shoulders. Once he was lifted, he easily lifted himself the rest of the way up, flopping down on his stomach onto the closed top of the dumpster. He then reached down and started to help Newbie up. When he was halfway, his foot slipped off from the slick metal and he slammed into the side of the dumpster. Psycho swore and yanked Newbie up the rest of the way. They both lay there, hoping that no one had heard either the sound of a body against the dumpster or Psycho’s outburst. After staying in the same position for what seemed like hours, they finally came up with enough courage to continue. Psycho tentatively raised his head, half expecting that a bullet would lodge itself into him. But nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and raised his weapon, motioning for Newbie to do the same. He went up and peeked through the window. He gave a grunt of panic and ducked down again. There had been a guard, luckily looking the other way. Psycho pulled two flash-bangs from his belt. Flash-bangs worked like regular grenades, but acted different. It wouldn’t do any damage, but once it blew, it would temporarily blind the target with a flash of light and would impair his hearing for a short while with a loud bang. He pulled the pins of both and sent them flying through the window at the man. He covered his ears and closed his eyes, motioning before hand for Newbie to do it also. They heard a muffled bang, and they opened their eyes.
“Move!” rasped Psycho, shooting through the window and jumping through. He shot the bewildered guard with his Colt hand pistol, effectively dispatching him. Newbie soon joined him, glancing around furtively. He wouldn’t be surprised if all the residents of the building had been alerted of their presence after Psycho’s flash-bang went off. And sure enough, they could both hear yells of annoyance, getting louder.
“Get ready…” said Psycho, removing his silencer. What was the point of keeping it on if everyone knew that they were there anyway? Finally, the voices, along with their owners, arrived. There were about five of them, masks pulled over their heads and AK-47’s in hand. They glanced around, spotting the pair almost immediately.
“Move!” yelled Psycho, shoving Newbie behind a corner. Bullets didn’t fail to follow them, sending splinters of wood showering over the two. They had to act fast, or else they would get flushed out by a grenade. After a quick recovery, they darted from their safe haven, firing wildly into the group of terrorists. Two of them fell, expressions of horrified surprise on their faces. The other three, quickly fell back to the furious onslaught, giving covering fire for each other. An almost insane glint came into Psycho’s eyes, and he started feeling for his grenades. He grabbed an HE grenade, and then as a second though, he grabbed two more. He yanked out the pins and threw them all towards the terrorists, grinning ferociously. Even before they exploded, he pulled a smoke grenade from his belt and threw it in the same direction as the others. The HE’s exploded, spraying Psycho and his partner with warm blood and chunks of flesh. Then the smoke grenade activated, temporarily covering about a 1 meter by 1 meter area with a thick black haze. It gave the men a chance to run through the small area without being a target to shoot at. They ended up on the other side of the room, next to a door. Psycho suspected it led further into the building. They didn’t want to go there yet. He grabbed the map of the building from one of his numerous pockets and sent his eyes flying over it, searching for their current position. He motioned to Newbie, and then did a double-fingered point towards a small hallway which, according to the blueprints, led closer to the center of the building. That was where the bathrooms were supposed to be, and that was where they had to meet up with the other team. Newbie replied with a negative, which was symbolized by the motion of moving his extended index finger past his throat in a quick motion. He took a flash-bang from his belt and threw it into the hallway. He waited for it to blow, then shot with precise accuracy at an unseen enemy. Psycho moved behind him to see what he was firing at, and saw two more terrorists who had been lying in wait for the duo. They were sprawled across the floor, limbs in grotesque angles. They had fresh bullet shots with splotches of red spreading around them already. Both had received a clean shot to the head, delivering quick and unavoidable death. Newbie just smiled grimly, his gun’s barrel still smoking. Psycho tried to hide his astonishment. He had never seen such good marksmanship since he had joined the military. The flash-bang he had thrown had been hardly necessary, because even if the terrorists would have been able to see, they would have been shot before they had time to react. They continued walking along the narrow hallway until they came to an intersection of paths. They could continue forward, or they could turn left. Psycho yet again pulled out the map, consulting it for which way to go. It indicated to turn left, and they should end up at the restrooms almost immediately. Newbie gave a grunt and shot at a door impulsively, shattering the window that was set into the top of it.
“Sorry...” he said apologetically, “I thought I saw something.” A startled face poked itself out through the hole Newbie had created.
“Whoah! You nearly killed me! Watch it!” Exclaimed the person angrily. Psycho could immediately identify him as Hot Head because of the angry outburst. Hot Head opened the door and stepped out, walking towards them. He had his pistol out, probably having run out of ammo for his M4. Behind him, the masked face of a terrorist along with the barrel of a gun emerged from around the corner. From that point all seemed to go in slow motion for him. Psycho yelled out at him, gesturing wildly to something behind him. Finger on the trigger of his Colt, he whipped around. He saw the threat, and he saw the gun. He also saw the twitch of the finger as the man pulled the trigger, releasing bullets from the magazine of the gun and sending them flying towards him. Before this all even registered, he had his pistol up and aimed, firing at the enemy. Although he took time to aim, panic always does something to a person, and the bullets scattered around the terrorist. They seemed to hit everything but his target. He heard the retort of the terrorist’s gun firing, the loud bang resounding in the hallway. The projectiles seemed to move in slow motion, getting closer and closer to Hot Head. He cried out as the bullets thumped into his body. They hit in the less vital areas, such as the stomach and arms, leaving him alive. With great pain, he removed an HE grenade from his belt and pulled the pin, stumbling towards the enemy. Psycho saw too late what he was trying to do. It was a suicidal run. If Hot Head got close enough, he would blow the terrorist to bits, along with himself. Apparently, the man also realized this, releasing another barrage from his gun to stop the troop coming at him. Hot Head let out a tortured scream as more bullets shot into his body, but he continued. The terrorist looked at his gun and suddenly grinned. He had a special attachment, an RPG attachment to be exact. He set his finger on the trigger that activated it and gave a wicked grin. Psycho saw what he was about to do and realized that he still had his gun in hand. He shot from the hip, hitting the man near the heart. He gave a groan, blood slowly dripping down from his mouth. With a last effort, he pulled the trigger, sending a grenade flying at Hot Head. The team leader’s eyes opened wide with horror, then closed, silently accepting his fate. Then it hit. The terrorist smirked; glad he had taken someone with him, and fell against the wall, eyes glazing over. The two remaining counter terrorists solemnly bowed their heads in grief as the fleshy bits of their deceased comrade rained down upon them. Psycho stood there in shock, not believing what he had just seen. One of his most competent men, dead. But there was no time to grieve; they had to keep moving. He heard feet fall on tile, the sound emitting from the hall that Hot Head had just earlier emerged from. He motioned to Newbie, silently ordering him to the wall. They cocked their weapons and prepared to shoot at the first person to come through the doors. But the men who came through the hall were not terrorists, to Psycho’s great relief. It was Trigger and Short Stuff, out of breath and looking slightly annoyed. They turned to corner to face the barrels of their comrade’s guns, and they yelped in surprise.
“Hey man, we’re friends!” cried Short Stuff, pushing the barrel away. Psycho smiled, happy that they weren’t a threat and the team was reunited. “Now, where’s Hot He-“The question died on Trigger’s lips as he saw the bloody scene across the hall. There was no need to ask; it was obvious what had happened. “So…What do we do now?” he choked.
Psycho set his jaw. “We fight. They may have killed Hot Head. But we will wreak vengeance on them. We carry the burden of our friend’s death. Let’s not let him down.”
It wasn’t an award-winning speech, but it did what Psycho intended. They were going to fight, and fueled with the want for revenge and an insatiable anger; there was nothing that would stand in their way. A few minutes later, the remaining team was stationed outside the entrance to the main office, the hive of terrorist activity. Psycho again went over what they were to do.
“We’ll send in a smoke grenade first,” he whispered, “and once it’s deployed me and Newbie here will rush in and spray the area. Trigger, you and Shorty’ll give us covering fire. The hostages are our main objective; aim for the terrorists nearest to them to avoid unwanted casualties.”
They all nodded, ready to go.
◊◊◊
“Aw crap, the cappuccino machine is broken!”
“Well fix it then, idiot! What are you doing drinking coffee anyway, you know the CTs are onto us! They could be in the building already!”
“Well I’m thirsty! You can’t hold hostages unless you’re properly quenched!”
“Quenched? Ooh, using big words now, are we boy?”
“Shut up. Can you just get over here and help me?”
Rafe gritted his teeth. “Incompetent little…” he started. He breathed a sigh. Might as well go over and help him. He suddenly heard a hiss of escaping air and gunfire, then an anguished cry.
“R…Robby? You still there? Y’all right?” Rafe stuttered, raising his AK-47 cautiously and moving towards the lounge. He whipped around the corner, straight into the barrel of a counter terrorist’s gun. “Oh s-“He was cut off as the gun fired, killing the terrorist instantly. Newbie smiled grimly, tallying off another kill in his mind.
“One down, Cap’n.” he said jokingly, grinning at Psycho. Trigger released the two hostages in the room from their bonds, and they thanked the men.
“Stay here, we’re gonna go help your friends,” said Trigger. “Where exactly…are your friends?” he questioned.
“I don’t know, me and my friend here, we just got tied up here with those two buffoons you took care of. But I know there are more people here other than us and the terrorists. But where, I can’t help you.” The other hostage had little more to give, other than the terrorists they had seen were heavily armed. Psycho grimaced. Guess we’re gonna have to do this the hard way, he thought.
“Alright, let’s keep going. We’ll take on the bigger rooms where it’s more likely that the other hostages are being kept first. Move out, team.”
The first room they came to was the boss’s office. Nothing much to see, other than the dead body of the man, sprawled across the desk. They moved on to the cubicles. Still nothing. Where the heck are they? Psycho thought with frustration. Finally they came to one of the last rooms, the projector room. They walked in and their eyes opened in surprise. The room was pretty big, and near one side was a large table, and a projector set on top of it. The machine was still running, showing maps of some statistics of the company on a set up board. But it was not the size of the room, or the décor. It was the large band of terrorists, lounging around the table. At least, they were lounging, before one of them saw a small group of feds run into the room through a doorway. Then, it was chaos. Some idiot had thrown a load of smoke grenades around the room, blinding most everyone. Hard enough as it was to kill a terrorist in the first place, now it was even harder, being half blinded by smoke. But it was just as much a disadvantage to the enemy as it was to them. Trigger was tempted to just empty clip after clip into the room; he was bound to hit someone. But before he did he realized that the one he hit might be one of his own team. Instead, he set himself up against a wall, a small block coming down from the ceiling in the middle of the room with pictures hanging on it. Just to shoot something, he shot a picture. The fragments of glass shot past, luckily missing him but producing an enraged cry of pain from behind. He spun around to see a terrorist, about to shoot him in the head. The sharp glass had sliced his cheek open, and it was all the man could do to stem the blood flow. With a quick shot from his Colt, Trigger ended the terrorist’s misery. Finally, the smoke cleared around him, and he could see. Not that he wanted to, though. Surrounding him were at least five other terrorists, only now noticing him. He paled visibly and let out a yelp. He grabbed a flash-bang and popped the cap, throwing it to the ground. He dropped his weapon, plugged his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the muffled bang. He heard it, knowing it meant the grenade had gone off. He couldn’t open his eyes fast enough. Grabbing his dropped weapon, he quickly dispatched the blinded and disoriented enemies. Then he could finally think and get a grasp on the situation. Newbie seemed to be doing fine; he had only one terrorist near him and he took care of him easily. Short Stuff was in the clear, the enemies around him all down and out for the count. Now where was Psycho...Finally, he spotted him. A grinning terrorist stood over him with a Glock, ready to shoot. Psycho already had a shot in his shoulder; that explained why his hand so limply held his gun. Trigger had no time react; neither did Psycho. All he could do was watch. Watch, as the dead terrorist toppled over, falling on top of Psycho. Behind him Newbie stood, smoking gun in hand. He helped Psycho up, looking worriedly at his shoulder wound.
“Ah, it’ll heal,” said Psycho, noticing his distress. “And by the way, nice shot…Marksman.” Marksman grinned wide, proud of his new and well-earned nickname. They looked around. The situation was under control; all terrorists eliminated. And from the size of the force they had faced, he heavily doubted there were any terrorists left. But…then again, where were the hostages? His question was answered when he heard a muffled yell from a closet. He tried the door. Locked, of course. He kicked it hard, and it swung open. It wasn’t a closet at all; it opened up into another large room. Luckily, there were no terrorists; just a large group of men and woman who had been trapped in there for who knows how long. Psycho smiled. Mission accomplished.
◊◊◊
Two Months Later
Psycho yawned and stepped out of bed, the cold floor of the army base freezing his bare feet. He quickly dressed, no longer bothered by his shoulder. It had healed weeks ago, letting him go about his normal life. If he could hardly call it normal. He was reaching for the door when it was unexpectedly opened for him, revealing a messenger.
“There’s a situation that needs your attention, sir,” the man informed, “terrorists have stationed themselves in an old abandoned mansion; they’re asking for money else they’ll blow up a powerful bomb they supposedly have with them. We need you to help take them out without setting off the bomb, if there even is one. You’ll be told more in the debriefing room. The rest of your squad is already there.” With that, he walked away at a brisk pace, on some other errand of his. Psycho grimaced. He had planned so much for the day; play some b-ball, checkers, go on a walk…Maybe catch a few Z’s. He sighed. Ah well, he could hardly complain. This was his life. A counter terrorist’s life.
' and needs to be warned if he hasn't been warned yet.
