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The Origin Of The Gunslinger
Joey Sanchez didn’t know what was going on. The vehicle he was riding in hit a bump and rocketed Joey’s head into its roof. He felt tears welling up. What happened? Where is Mom and Dad? He descended into the black chasm of sleep.
A couple hours earlier Joey Sanchez was nearing his bedtime in an Arab themed brick house in Baghdad. He was about to jump into his spaceships and stars bedsheets when the door blew open. Joey’s family is in the military so he assumed it was just one of the soldiers again Then, he heard the screams. His parents. They were crying
“Help! Take us not Joey!” A gunshot rang throughout the house and Joey new that was the last time his parents make Joey’s favourite cupcakes for him. Joey exploded out of bed, knocking over a tall glass of water. It hit the ground with a loud crash.
“Hey! Upstairs! Now!” Joey heard commanding voices below him. Enraged, he instinctively looked around the room for a method of ending these men's lives. His eyes caught a long, shiny object protruding from his closet. My gun! Joey leaped towards it. A large bang and heavy footsteps flooded up the stairs. He grabbed his AWP sniper rifle and with one swift movement, he loaded a Green Tipped Penetrator bullet into it.
A figure burst into his room. Joey whipped his head around and pulled the trigger. A sickening crack ripped through the air as the bullet ripped through kevlar, flesh, and bone. The man fell limply against the wall. Blood pooled around him. Joey didn’t wince. He had seen worse at a younger age. Joey snapped out of it when he heard a click of a loaded Desert Eagle. Come at me, he thought. Right on cue, a short stocky man burst through the door. Splashing through his comrade’s blood, he bounded across the room, gun outstretched and yelled,
“Stand down! Now!” Joey dropped his gun and raised his palms in surrender. The man approached him slowly. Joey eyed his gun, and with one kick with enough power to knock a bull over, knocked it out of his hand. The man screamed, and Joey saw his opportunity. He took his Swiss army knife out to finish him off when he heard a loud thump and everything went black.
The sound of a whip crack woke him up.
“Rise and shine, rat.” He was staring at the headquarters of the terrorist base. ????? ?????. Large letters next to it read “KILL ZONE.” A man approached with a syringe and stabbed it rather violently into his arm. He immediately collapsed. What felt like an eternity later, his eyes focused on iron bars, and he realized he was imprisoned. He heard noises above.
“Ransom...millions...kill.” He couldn’t really make all of the words out, but he got the most disturbing bits. I have to get out now, he thought. He remembered what his dad had taught him. He looked over at the guard, he was watching him like a hawk. I’ve got it! Joey thought. He grabbed his food bowl and walked over to the guard. The guard shot him a look. Joey spurred his plan into action and pretended to trip. A stale bread slice flew out of his hand and into the guard’s lap. The guard looked up, irritated.
“Sorry, could you please give that to me?” Joey said tenderly.
“Sure,” the guard grumbled. The guard threw it on the ground, stomped on it, and reached through the bars to hand it to Joey. Joey sprung and grabbed his arm.
“Hey!” the guard screamed. But, it was too late. Joey pulled with all his might and smashed the guard’s head into the bars. He fell backwards and the guard collapsed on the ground. The keys were strapped onto his belt. They were in reaching distance, and Joey unlocked the bars. He stared at the fallen man and spotted a gun in his back pocket. He quickly snatched it and sprinted down the endless stone brick hallway until he saw light ahead. He heard a siren go off and men shouting orders and thought, There must have been a sensor on the bars. That's why I’m hunted. It alerted the HQ! Joey drew his pistol and sprinted into light. It was hot in Baghdad, in fact, the heat reminded him of the sweet cakes that his mom used to make. He shook the thought away. No. Focus. But it was too late. An ear-piercing wail of a siren cut through the air like a hot knife in butter.
“The gunslinger! Get the gunslinger!” the General barked orders. Gunslinger. I like that name. Joey ran past a guard at top speed and headed for the main entrance.
“There!” A guard yelped. Gunshots rang throughout the base and Joey ducked for cover behind an empty oil container. He pulled the pistol above his head and shot a bullet that ricocheted off an iron bunker wall and into a guard's flesh. One down, two to go. Joey was sweating heavy and his head felt like a sack of coal, but despite his pain, he dived to the right and pulled the trigger. He rolled to the side and smiled as he heard the bullet find its target, a skull, marked by the snap of bone and a horrendous screech. Last one. Joey lept up and kicked the barrel towards the guard. The guard stumbled and fell to the floor. He looked up to see Joey Sanchez, the “weak” 13 year old boy holding a pistol to his head. Joey moved one muscle in his body, and that was the last thing the terrorist saw. Joey stood there, satisfaction and hatred boiled over him. He spat on the guards lifeless body and kicked.
“Scum.” he muttered as he ran towards an empty apache. Joey jumped and lifted off, only to to the amazement of a legion of guards that had just figured he was alive. From now on, he would be named The Gunslinger, and he would fight for good. He turned the apache around sharply and fired a salvo of missiles into the guards. An eruption of flames ignited from the ground as a guards bloodied, torn up arm smacked his windshield. He wiped it off and thought, thank god my parents taught me how to fly this thing. He gunned the engine and dodged a seeking defense missile fired from a guard tower. He answered instantly, blasting a round of railgun lead into the guard's body.