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
