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A TFC story
by Spyder2


Category: Half-Life

Genre: Suspense

Language: English

Status: Completed

Published: 2003-01-10 15:26:14

Updated: 2003-01-10 15:26:14

Packaged: 2016-04-26 21:50:55

Rating: M

Chapters : 1

Words: 955

Publisher: www.fanfiction.net

Summary: A 'realistic' graphic portrayal of the start of
Dustbowl


A TFC story

Authors note; This story is a graphic portrayal of what would happen
if Dustbowl were real, and as such, it contains scenes of a graphic
and potentially disturbing nature.

><br>If you don't like this sort of thing, do not read this story.

><br>For everyone else, here's some background information. I wrote
this nearly 3 years ago, and never got round to posting it anywhere.
Since it's my first published article, I'd like as much constructive
feedback as possible.

><br>Thanks Spyder
><br> A TFC story

><br> There I stood, shotgun in hand, waiting, just waiting for the
moment, that we would once again become feral men, feuding for
dominance, living on the 'rush' of combat.

><br>I glanced around the room, looking at the rest of my squad with
the faint knowledge that one of them may not see the sunset that ends
the day.

><br>The sandstone walls were damp and soggy with sweat, the air
tasted foul, but no worse than the smell, thought by now, it was
becoming usual .

><br>The smell scared me, as it was the one thing I hated. It was the
smell of fear.

><br>Though no-one would admit it, we were all scared, each man with
his own problem, own fear, but when we were in combat, on top of the
'rush', that all faded and real men were born.

><br>As the commander stepped forward, a cold gust of air chilled the
room, but it did little to cool us.

><br>Each man knew his place and his job, and how to do it, hopefully
surviving .

><br>We approached out places as the commander yelled, "Lets do
this!" trying to stir us even more, focussing us on the task at hand.



letting us know that there is someone beside us, and that we weren't
alone .

><br>I gripped my shotgun tighter, shunting a pellet into the
chamber, hoping, praying, that this piece of metal would keep me
alive. But fate, it seems, did not look on us that day.

><br>As the gates opened, the whirr of autocannons was drowned out by
the sound of grenades and rockets exploding all around us.

><br>A single soldier stepped forward, out, through the gates, only
to be ground into dust by a sentry gun. I could only stare, as a
medic primed a grenade, only to have his arm shot off be a sniper. As
the grenade fell, I dived 'round the corner to escape the blast, but
two of my comrades who where standing near the medic, were rapidly
turned into wallpaper by the force of the blast, taking one mans leg
off. He was lucky. His friends were plastered, their blood, and
muscle painting an abstract image on the wall.

><br>A Heavy Weapons Expert trudged forward, hosing anything that
moved, taking out three enemy soldiers, an engineer and his sentry
gun before a sniper struck again. The bullet penetrated through the
protective visor, flying through his left eye, making the back of his
head explode.

><br>Alone

><br>No one was left.

><br>Not the commander, medic or the Heavy Weapons Expert had
survived the firestorm. In a desperate attempt to save myself, I
piled the bodies of my friends into a stack, as a wall, but the
sniper saw me, and shot my leg off, forcing my head to rapidly hit
the ground with extreme force. I opened my eyes and turned my head,
only to greet my end.

><br>I saw three pairs of dust-ridden boots standing by me. I tried
to move my head only to be pelted in the stomach. I managed to focus
past them, to see why our attack failed. The sniper team.

><br>I tried to get up, but one of the boots found my back, and I was
crushed. My eyes started to fog over with tears of pain, as my back
roared with pain, and my chest in agony. It felt hard to breathe, as
I knew I had broken a rib.

><br>Eighting back tears of pain, I stared at the snipers, to see a
sniper pick up his rifle, and aim it. Then I shut my eyes, as I felt
the heat from the laser sight, track my forehead.

><br>I thought death would feel a lot different, stranger even, not
just a 'here today, gone tomorrow' feeling. But this felt weird, I
felt warm, especially my leg. Strangely, I felt the wound heat up,
getting warmer, and warmer, moment by moment. I began to embrace
death only to open my eyes, and find the sniper standing over the
bodies of his dead comrades, and a soldiers head lying neatly in the
gaping hole that was my missing leg.

><br>I tried to smile, but blacked out.

><br>As I awoke, the horrors still filled me with fury and pain, as
the soft realisation of life hit me. I was alive, but I did not feel
truly alive, I felt empty somehow. What I had seen only came to a
select group and as I got up, my emotions hit me, hard. They all
rushed in at once; I felt fear, dread, and pain. I felt everything
for an instant.

><br>Now that was my fear.

><br>My head darted around the room, searching for some comfort, some
sort of relief. And then I found it.

><br>As the silenced shot rang out, no body outside heard, not until
the sniper came walked back in, wearing the combat uniform of a spy,
looking down on my sedated body with tranquiliser gun in hand.


><br>I heard a chuckle, but that was the last I heard, blacking out a



second after I realised I was in a friendly hospital.

><br>The last thing I did was smile, and the world went black once
more .


End
f ile .




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