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War of The World Chapter 1 Draft 3

An earsplitting-crack shattered the peaceful summer morning. The falling snow wavered nervously before continuing its descent. The sun peeked above the horizon before it even dared take another step across the dark blue sky.

I felt my ears pop. They hurt, but I didn’t dare complain with the High General Sitting less than three meters behind me. One wrong move and I would lose my chance at revenge. I slid back the bolt and a hot brass shell ejected from the chamber, a trail of wispy smoke trailing behind it, disappearing as it landed into the pile of snow below.

Carefully, I slid the next long, bullet into the chamber, pushed the bolt back into place and loaded it. I positioned my eye in the scope, forcing it to stay open. I hadn’t gotten much sleep; too much was riding on this for me to get a decent sleep.

I fired again and again until a clips worth of bullets had been fired into the cardboard soldier that was my target.

“You may exit the range,” boomed one of the board members.

Trying to be as calm as possible, which under the circumstances, was anything but possible, I laid the gun down on the wooden table, positioning it in the center of the table, hoping that the board would appreciate my attention to detail. On my way out, I did my best to sneak a look at my handiwork and smiled to myself when I saw half the soldier face gone and a couple bullet holes visible in the left side.

I tried to read the boards emotions during my brief exit, but as usual, their face looked like they had been born without hearts.

A car was waiting for me at the entrance; nothing fancy, just a small black sedan that I didn’t bother to learn the name of. A caufferar opened the door, ready to let me in. I stopped him mid-movement with my hand and entered the car myself. There would be no such luxury or kindness on the battlefield.



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