- Joined
- Aug 2, 2015
- Location
- In transit
Adam holds his rifle tightly to his chest as he walks, the sleek black M4A1 with a 4x ACOG scope on the top rail was a bit smaller than the old standard rifles of war, but it was a Carbine so it was only supposed to be used for short to medium range combat. Besides, one of his team members had the all-powerful M249 LMG, which spits out 7.62mm rounds faster than the eye can comprehend, so he felt pretty safe as of right now. Adam is a member of the United States Marine Corps, though he had yet to have his first firefight in the vast deserts of the Kandahar Province in Afghanistan, he was certainly shaking with mixed excitement and fear to be able to shoot his weapon at an actual target for the first time ever.
Adam is a handsome man, one who the ladies back home in America would certainly call the stereotypical Jarhead, he was tall, around 6'1 and very muscular as he worked often to ensure his spot in the Infantry would remain his. He has a buzz cut that sticks close to his head, though if his hair grew out more it would be brown and curly. He has a pair of hazel eyes, with tiny flecks of green mixed in with it. He wears the standard Desert MARPAT uniform of the Marines, a tan chest rig with an American flag in the center and his last name beneath it, 'Surola', and a helmet of the same camo with a pair of goggles on top of it. He also wears a pair of black ballistic glasses that cover his eyes.
One hand leaves his gun, checking to ensure his ear plugs were set into place, which they were, he wouldn't want to deafen himself, after all the M249 was fucking loud. Him and his small squadron of seven other Marines walk in a staggered column formation through a tiny village, the locals stare at them as they walk, all of them had some sort of mixed emotion in their eyes, as if they were unsure how to react to the foreigners moving through their lands.
It started with a snap and then a crack, suddenly gunfire was erupting from all around the Marines. Adam feels a bullet tear through his side which caused him a red hot, blinding sort of pain, blood spraying on to the road behind him as he falls, rolling into a small ditch where the village's water supply runs through, the water turns red as he lays there, crying out in pain and holding his rifle. After a few moments he realizes that he needs to fight, he crawls forward into the defilade of the ditch and presses the butt of his rifle to the inside of his shoulder before pulling the trigger, the rifle rebelliously jolting back against the side of his body that was currently experiencing a lot of pain.
When he fires the last shot of his magazine he hears a scream and watches as the notorious AK 47, belonging to an Insurgent falls to the ground.. He feels numb, never having seen the consequence for pulling the trigger. He hears the screams of this man, and then gurgling.. Adam had shot the man through his throat, causing him to choke on his own blood.
Thou shall not kill...
The words rang through his mind, causing him to clench his eyes shut, he felt a sort of innocence leaving his body, he could do anything now. He reloads his rifle and looks around, the bodies of his squad litter the grounds. He stands, clutching his wound and dropping his rifle, limping his way over to the man who had the M249, he collapses to one knee next to him, taking the LMG in his hands while checking the ammo... The man hadn't been able to fight back.
He almost hears a faint whisper in the back of his mind.. This wasn't fair, these men didn't deserve to die.. How DARE the people of this village host these evil people.. They all needed to die.
Adam stands and lets out a blood curling scream, his finger holding down the trigger as he walks forward, any target in his way was sprayed down, holes filling their bodies and blood spraying the walls and streets of the village. He would purify this place. It didn't matter to him, men, women, and their children were all responsible for this massacre of his friends, the men he had trained with and talked to, he had bunked with them for almost a month now and now they would return home in a body bag.
His vision goes red as he performs his killing, only having to reload one time, he spots some of them running away and kills them too, not really caring as long as they were apart of this village. He throws down the rifle when he feels he is done, the village is cleansed, bodies litter the small area and the barrel of his M249 has melted off at this point, glowing red hot from constant use. Adam walks over to his rifle on the road and sits down next to it, holding his head in his hands and slowly rocking back and forth as his blood continues to stain his uniform.
Adam is a handsome man, one who the ladies back home in America would certainly call the stereotypical Jarhead, he was tall, around 6'1 and very muscular as he worked often to ensure his spot in the Infantry would remain his. He has a buzz cut that sticks close to his head, though if his hair grew out more it would be brown and curly. He has a pair of hazel eyes, with tiny flecks of green mixed in with it. He wears the standard Desert MARPAT uniform of the Marines, a tan chest rig with an American flag in the center and his last name beneath it, 'Surola', and a helmet of the same camo with a pair of goggles on top of it. He also wears a pair of black ballistic glasses that cover his eyes.
One hand leaves his gun, checking to ensure his ear plugs were set into place, which they were, he wouldn't want to deafen himself, after all the M249 was fucking loud. Him and his small squadron of seven other Marines walk in a staggered column formation through a tiny village, the locals stare at them as they walk, all of them had some sort of mixed emotion in their eyes, as if they were unsure how to react to the foreigners moving through their lands.
It started with a snap and then a crack, suddenly gunfire was erupting from all around the Marines. Adam feels a bullet tear through his side which caused him a red hot, blinding sort of pain, blood spraying on to the road behind him as he falls, rolling into a small ditch where the village's water supply runs through, the water turns red as he lays there, crying out in pain and holding his rifle. After a few moments he realizes that he needs to fight, he crawls forward into the defilade of the ditch and presses the butt of his rifle to the inside of his shoulder before pulling the trigger, the rifle rebelliously jolting back against the side of his body that was currently experiencing a lot of pain.
When he fires the last shot of his magazine he hears a scream and watches as the notorious AK 47, belonging to an Insurgent falls to the ground.. He feels numb, never having seen the consequence for pulling the trigger. He hears the screams of this man, and then gurgling.. Adam had shot the man through his throat, causing him to choke on his own blood.
Thou shall not kill...
The words rang through his mind, causing him to clench his eyes shut, he felt a sort of innocence leaving his body, he could do anything now. He reloads his rifle and looks around, the bodies of his squad litter the grounds. He stands, clutching his wound and dropping his rifle, limping his way over to the man who had the M249, he collapses to one knee next to him, taking the LMG in his hands while checking the ammo... The man hadn't been able to fight back.
He almost hears a faint whisper in the back of his mind.. This wasn't fair, these men didn't deserve to die.. How DARE the people of this village host these evil people.. They all needed to die.
Adam stands and lets out a blood curling scream, his finger holding down the trigger as he walks forward, any target in his way was sprayed down, holes filling their bodies and blood spraying the walls and streets of the village. He would purify this place. It didn't matter to him, men, women, and their children were all responsible for this massacre of his friends, the men he had trained with and talked to, he had bunked with them for almost a month now and now they would return home in a body bag.
His vision goes red as he performs his killing, only having to reload one time, he spots some of them running away and kills them too, not really caring as long as they were apart of this village. He throws down the rifle when he feels he is done, the village is cleansed, bodies litter the small area and the barrel of his M249 has melted off at this point, glowing red hot from constant use. Adam walks over to his rifle on the road and sits down next to it, holding his head in his hands and slowly rocking back and forth as his blood continues to stain his uniform.