Killing Spree

"Slayer," a deep voice said with exclamation

At once the soldier was filled with expectation

"Twenty-five men I have to kill,"

"I'll shoot them so their guts will spill,"

At once he loaded his battle rifle

To him, killing was a trifle

"Bang, bang, bang," he heard from his left

So he turned with a prowess deft

He looked into his scope and pulled the trigger

His victim, though, was filled with vigor

Jumping and dodging the enemy was

"He's a smart one, but he'll take a pause,"

Surely enough the moment came

Only then did the man take his aim

When he shot he did so with precision

Precipitating a death that was easy to envision:

Bang, bang, bang—three bullets of lead

Followed by three more into his enemy's head

The victory was quick, with no complications

Four more followed, with almost no variations

"Killing spree!" a deep voice said

Soon, very soon, all his enemies would be dead

"I'll snipe them, I will," he said as he headed for the sniper

But he realized that he would be like the pied piper

"Something more subtle, but far more deadly"

"Something to add to my grand killing medley"

"A vehicle would let me kill with ease,"

So he looked 'round the canyon for something to please

Just then, though, a purple haze caught his eye

The soldier could sense his defeat draw nigh

It approached fast, followed by streaks

Although it was fast, the time seemed like weeks

Waiting for the right moment, he finally jumped in the air

Gleeful, he could hear his enemy swear

The craft had crashed into the building behind him, you see

Now one can see why he was filled with glee

He approached the vehicle, submachine guns in hand

He approached; he did, with a drama planned

Throughout the canyon the shots rang

Accompanied with a gigantic bang

His newly acquired vehicle hovered over the canyon floor

Fleeing his captor, he explored

"Someplace to hide, someplace to cower,"

But he found the answer: a weapon of power

So he took the great gun and stared straight ahead

And looked to his left, was that a tank tread?

Surely it was—the tank was still there

Unaware of its cause and its coming despair

Two rounds, he fired—rockets, they were

The ambushed man screamed, "You're a cur,"

But it was too late: the tank had exploded

And with its explosion the man reloaded

"Nineteen to go," the soldier thought

And with that his victory he brought

Some reading this poem will be appalled; some will never be the same

They don't realize that it's only Halo: a video game