» Fri May 04, 2012 6:17 am
This is the third, maybe even fourth theme that my story could fit into, so here it is. If because it has it's own thread the judges don't want to accept it, that is fine.
I Am Bullet
I am Bullet, I may be small, but I am fearless. Something passed down through generations before me, though I may be more advanced than some of my ancestors, their accomplishments far exceed mine. My family lineage began in 1950 with my, I couldn't tell you how many greats, Remington .222 grandfather. I have been told that, in 1957 a man named Eugene Stoner designed a host for my family; he called it the AR-15, to be later called by the U.S. Military the M-16. The AR-15 used another legendary forefather of mine, the .223; it paved the way for all of us to follow.
I, on the other hand, am a NATO version whose particular line has been used in combat since 1963. Those before me have seen action in historic wars Vietnam, The Gulf War, and many more. Me, I was fresh from the automated ammo press at 0830 on Wednesday, October 20, 2077. I was proud, my brass, NATO rimless bottleneck designed jacket was shiny. My jacket thicker than my forefather's .223, able to hold almost 10,000 more PSI for pure, unadvlterated destructive propulsion. You could say I was bursting to go with 62,000 psi of pressure on my ass, ready to penetrate 15 to 20 inches of soft human tissue. I was built for one thing, a clean kill.
Some of my older brothers were assigned to aid on the frontlines of the Sino-American War in 2066, part of Operation Anchorage. Chinese tried to seize Anchorage, but my brothers kicked ass, liberating Alaska from the Chinese Forces on January 10, 2077. That victory all but sealed the envelope for The Great War, on October 23, 2077 the worldwide nuclear exchange attempted to end civilization as the humans knew it. Wait, I'm getting a little ahead of myself, please excuse my eagerness.
So, there I was, fresh and ready to go. I joined 19 of my siblings in formed packaging until my day would come. I had hoped to be sent to Anchorage to mop up any Chinese remnants, but instead I overheard a voice saying we were to be delivered to Fort Hood Texas. Texas? I thought, but the action isn't anywhere near there, I wanted to go to Alaska gah dammit. We were sat into a crate with 100's more of my siblings and put on a truck. I swear the stupid truck driver hit every bump in the road; I couldn't even rest before my time came.
I can't tell you how pissed I was when the truck driver stopped after several hours on the road, I was anxious to meet my assigned M-16, I hoped it would be in the hands of a good soldier. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to let me fly and take out a foe, a soldier with good, no wait, great aim. I wanted that soldier to make sure I hit my mark, wiping another commie bastard from this earth.
It must have been a good eight hours before the driver started on the road again, pffft humans, having to eat, sleep, and [censored] all the time. At least we were cruising down the road again, for a while anyways. I about popped my case when I heard a pop, let me at'em, let me at'em, my mind filled with wonderment of how it was going to feel when I pierced my enemies skin. But, it was not to be, a tire had blown out on the truck halting us once again. Maybe, just maybe, if he could drive without hitting all the bumps we would still be on the road. The driver hit the side of the truck, cursing because the roadside assistant didn't have the proper sized tire for the truck. We waited another several hours before it would be fixed, only for the driver to decide he needed to sleep some more.
Now it was Friday, October 22, I was two days old and already feeling like I had waited an eternity. We were rolling along nicely, actually arriving at Fort Hood some time later. Unfortunately, I was made to wait some more, the shipping and receiving docks were closed for the night and the driver had to find a truck stop to rest until morning when it reopened. A crackle got my attention, it was an audio device in the front of the truck, and it said the dock time would be five O'clock. Now I was fuming, this stupid, ignorant human had held me up from my destiny enough already, and now this? I nestled down into my formed carrier stewing until the truck rumbled to life.
Finally, I would be delivered and prepped for action after three long days of waiting. Those damn bumps, it's a wonder that we made it this far honestly, the way are box was getting jimmied around. I heard the driver talking with another human about which dock to go to, and then they screamed like little .22 shells. There was a massive explosion, my crate, along with the truck were overturned. I could smell something burning, but I was still trapped inside this God for saken crate. Next thing I knew, my brothers and I were flying through the sir, not the way we were designed for, but like a clumsy hand grenade. I strained to see through the seam of my cardboard prison, but was not able to do so. We crashed onto the ground, the wooden crate broke to pieces and we slid next to a small building.
I could now see out of my prison, the landing bent my box open just a tad, I watched as the granddaddy of all human designed weaponry wreaked havoc over Fort Hood. The heat, that damn heat was so intense I thought I was going to fire off right on the spot. The pressure in my jacket seemed to grow ever more, but after some time it relented. There were no sounds other than the crackle of whatever the hell was burning close by; it was just my luck to get delivered on October 24th that [censored] truck driver, he and his sleeping habit.
It seemed like my brothers and I were lost and forgotten, I watched out of my cardboard confines for days. It was pointless, that [censored] Atom apparently had killed my soldier. Though I was more than angry with Atom, I wasn't brave enough to talk [censored] to one of his brethren. I may be hot headed, but I'm not stupid like that truck driver. It had been a week since Atom made his presence known; it rumbled outside, I looked out through my peep hole. Something started to pit, pat on my box. The opening in the seam grew larger the faster the strange noise hit my box. Then something warm touched my brass finish, it slid down, followed by more, pooling up in the bottom of my box.
I was held snugly in place and unable to move away, whatever these strange blackish colored things were, they were attacking me. I felt helpless as the blackness tried to tarnish my glorious finish while engrossing me. Outside, the blackness was covering everything, it like Atom, seemed indestructible, I watched in horror as it swallowed all of us smaller things under its blanket of darkness. The sky was dark, maybe these were the aliens that I had heard about? Aliens were said to come from the sky, why didn't Atom destroy them to? This, this black liquid continued to beat on us for four days before it realized how tough I was, and that no matter what I would not cave into its torture.
The blackness left, giving way to a bright light that looked like a ball of fire in the sky. It began to get warmer, also making my box harden back up, but it still was warped and saggy. The blackness took its toll on my box, but it held out, not releasing any important information about us to them. Several days later, I gave up hope of being found. I dreamed of all the things that I could have done had I been given a chance. Every day I watched out through the seam, waiting, it's not in my nature to wait, not a part of my design. I was built to cover distances in excess of 3000 feet per second, I was built for speed. I was built to compliment, or it was built to compliment me, the R91 Assault rifle.
A coat of dust from all the years of waiting clouded my vision, but I recognized the sound of human footsteps. If I could have, I would have jumped for joy, I could hear the human shuffle his feet closer to me and my brothers. I felt my box shift from a loud thud; the human mumbled something then I could feel the box rise. Finally, after 59,581 days and 71 minutes from when I left the ammo press I was found to fill my destiny. I would be able to make my large family proud after all this time waiting for my moment.
The human tore open the box, dumping me, and my brothers onto a rag, he picked us up one by one. I cringed at thought of his oily, grimy hands touching me without wearing gloves; I suppose it's a small price to pay in order to prove myself out in the field. It was my turn, he plucked me from the rag, wiping my rear with his thumb then he polished me up with another rag. As he was doing so, I noticed his R91 rifle, it was dirty like he was, and I was beginning to wonder if this was luck or not. But when he put me in one of his magazines, all was forgiven. For the magazine may have looked dirty on the outside, but the inside glistened with a thin sheen of oil. I slipped right into place perfectly, as if I wouldn’t; only one fellow bullet was ahead of me in the firing order.
The man strapped us to his bandoleer before he cleaned the internals of his rifle. He used his teeth to open a small bag with some springs in it. When it dawned on me that he was installing a new spring kit, visions of my future victory whisks through my mind. This man knew how to care for his equipment, as deceiving as the exterior was, the interior was flawless, like me. The new spring kit meant one thing for sure; I would get the proper kick I needed to kill. We moved out as soon as the grubby man was finished caring for his R91, gently patting his chest so he would not forget we were there, I noticed the R91 was set to burst. Good, he takes his time to save on ammunition, with any luck he's a good shot, I happily thought to myself.
As I daydreamed what piercing flesh and bone was going to feel like, a clank against the magazine snapped me from my pleasant thoughts. It was a frag grenade, the human was moving faster now and the pesky grenade kept hitting my magazine irritating me. He could only fly as far as my human could throw, I could fly hundreds of yards to take down a target. My human grunted when we suddenly stopped, the magazine rose with his deep breaths, I heard other humans speaking with him forming an attack. I was ready, you could imagine how I felt holding all that pressure for 163 years, it was my time.
Pop pop pop, I heard other rifles going off, but my human cowered down behind a rock. There was a groan from a wounded human, I would be sure to kill my target, must have been one of those wimpy .32 bullets. My human jumped up, sprinting for a nearby building, I was screaming to be used when he stopped again, "Oh [censored]," my human cried out. After which I knew why, I heard the beeping of a frag mine just before my magazine was sent hurdling through the air. [censored]!!!! GOD DAMMIT!!!! I cursed as my magazine skipped to a halt under the edge of a rock right next to an empty soda bottle. My human had cost me my opportunity, in his haste he neglected to watch his step, at least his mistake cost him his life.
I could no longer watch, I lost track of the days after another fifty years had passed. I had learned to accept my fate along with my 29 brothers in the magazine. We lay under the edge of that rock, the breeze would pelt us with dust sometimes, and we were even urinated on by a mangy mutt a time or two. Now it would be a competition between the rock, and us, who would survive longer? Then one day the familiar grinding of dirt under human feet, I saw a group of three humans. Their choice of hairstyle and attire were far from that of a soldier, they were scouring the area, they were loud and boisterous. I had developed a joy in the silence as we were under the shade of my rock.
If I could have rolled over and returned to my slumber I would have, but one of the humans picked up my magazine, could it be? How long had it been since I lost track of time? It no longer mattered as we were shoved into something soft and dark. Awhile later I found myself being wiped off again, my moral began to inflate. I was replaced in the magazine, fourth from the top this time; I was only able to catch a glimpse of light. This group of humans was far more unstable than my previous human, swilling liquid from brown bottles and pressing a piece of plastic to their mouths and squeezing. They carried on for some time, a belligerent bunch they were, but it was entertainment.
A crack followed by a thud brought my human to his feet; he aimed into the night, only aided by the dim glow of a campfire. He fired several rounds, gunfire was returned, from the sound of it they were .44 rounds. My human ducked and rolled, firing into the darkness until CLICK. To describe the ecstasy I felt when my human pulled my magazine from its dark resting place was not possible. Another click as my human locked my magazine in place, this was it, and I began preparing myself for my big moment. He fired three more rounds; I was pushed by my siblings into the chamber.
My human inched up, and I was ready, all 5.56mm and 63 grams of me. The rifle shook in his hands, oppressing fire bit at the ground by his feet; he swung the rifle from left to right. All I could think of at this point was that I got stuck with a pray and spray human. Hadn't anyone ever taught him about B.R.A.S.S.? I wondered, even I knew about breath, relax, aim, squeeze, shoot.
The firing had ceased momentarily, my human popped up resting the rifle on top of a rock, good boy, I readied myself. The firing pin hit my backside releasing two hundred plus years of excruciating pressure. I traveled through the twenty inch barrel with unmatched fury; my target was an ugly one. It was humanoid, of sorts, though extremely masculine and green? I did not care as I covered the ground at an alarming rate, I was the baddest, and I was the fastest thing around. Humans and their Olympiad records be damned, I was capable of crushing any, and all of them.
My target looked back at me, several of my siblings following me as I stared the target in its eye. You're going down buddy, your ass is mine! A fraction of a second before I would impact the beefy, green flesh, there was a flash of red. A laser beam struck my intended target causing him to veer from my path. NOOO, how could this be? My sleek design enabled me to cut through air, but stole from me any chance of varying my course by the slightest of degrees in order to strike the green beast. I watched the beast fall as I sailed by, ahead of me a dilapidated house. My tomb awaited me, I struck the wooden beam with authority, but to my dismay, I did not make it through. I was firmly lodged somewhere inside of the petrified wooden beam. All the years I spent waiting was...for this? My moment came and went in a flash, it was a blur. I was not destined to be a Great War hero like those before me. Just like the previous years, I find myself waiting. Thinking of what could have been, but never will be.
Hall of Fame 
Yay, we have a winner! 
But it will be a hollow win if there is only two people. If you have a story please post it and Radioactive Bacon, I was going to post this on your other topic asking for advice, but I will post it here. I am my own worst critic when it comes to posting fan fiction "no one will like this" I tell myself. I still get that with eveyone I post. Best advice to people, just post it. I just spent the last hour or so fixing mistakes in mine and I am sure I haven't go them all. I just post it and edit later because the more I read it the greater the chance I will chicken out and not post it.
I didn't see anything thaat was in dire need of attention, good job 
It's just too short to really draw in you reader.
