Ron's Worst Nightmares
Long Hunt
By Pat Squared
WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE
The hyenas scampered when the local militia approached the flaming wreck of the HUMVEE. Themilitiamenwere all laughing as if the deaths of Ron's squad mates were punch-lines to the jokes in the latest episode of Friends or Seinfeld.
Vasilii watched as they kicked whatever the hyenas left of Gonzo. One of them picked up Gonzo'sFabrique Nationale M249 Squad Automatic Weaponas another hacked at Gonzo's corpse with a machete. They had laughed and danced in glee as Vasilii slowly shouldered his rifle.
Twenty,175-grain, M118LR 7.62x51mm NATO match grade rounds sat ineach one of Vasilii's magazine plus one in the chamber – twelve targets, by Vasilii's calculation he had nine extra rounds to go before he had to reload. If he had to reload, he would be dead.
Now was the moment. The hunters would become his prey.
One was doing some kind of warrior dance. Vasilii picked this one as his first example. As they trained him, Vasilii moved into the USMC approved prone position as if he was on the K-D (known distance) range at San Diego.The sling was wraped about his left forearm. His body became a bridge of bone. Ron started breathing as he placed the crosshairs on his target's head.
Vasilii squeezed the trigger. All it took was four minute muscles exerting three and a half pounds of pressure.
The match grade trigger released a hammer that stuck the firing pin which then struck the match grade primer which then ignited the powder. The bullet exited with a muzzle velocity of twenty five hundred feet per second, traveled one hundred twenty three meters, penetrates a layer of skin and bone before entering the fluid rich cranial cavity. Hydrostatic shock turned a human life into an object lesson and turn skull and brain fragments into a pink and grey mist.
Training and rage turned Vasilii into death incarnate. He was dealing out tickets to the afterlife like a Vegas blackjack dealers dishing out cards.
The rifle that Vasilii cursed this morning was now his best friend. He quickly lined up the crosshairs with the heads of the militiamen.
Some were waving their AK's around returning fire while other's scrambled for cover.
Vasilii aimed at the runners first. He knew that it was bad tactics, but he did not want anyone responsible for the deaths of his squadmates to live.
Part of Vasilii's minds regretted not having enough object lessons to show the world that you don't fuck with Uncle Sam's Misguided Children. The local militiaterrorized their people into submission. Now it was his turn to show them that the real face of terror is a pissed off marine with an accuraterifle and plenty of ammunition.
Vasilii's mind did not record the sound of the shots, just the images of his foe's faces erupting into mist and the satisfying kick of his instrument of justice.
The old Ron Stoppable would have ...
Vasilii stopped listening to the old Ron Stoppable.
Ronald DeanStoppablewas the slave mentality that kept him down. The old Ron Stoppable was one step away from eating a bullet. Ron Stoppable was the pitiful fool would tried to off himself when the red head bitch tossed him away.
War already taught Vasilii Boiarskii that he had something to live for. Vasilii belonged her. Vasilii lived for the thrill of the kill. No longer will he play by any rules save for the rule of the jungle.
Vasilii walked to the cluster of the dead and dying to survey the executions that he performed. His veins were throbbing with life, a pleasure greater than any other he could ever remember.
He heard a groan. One of the bastards did not die quick enough to avoid seeing more of Vasilii's justice. Hatred kept him from questioning what he was going to do next. Vasilii gave into his hatred.
Ron Stoppable came to with bloody hands and a bloody K-Bar knife.
Ronhad truly divorced himself from the human race.
Ron let Vasiliisend a young man on an extremely painful, one-way trip to the afterlife.Vasilii had laughed and spat in the face of his dying victim. He had enjoyed the man's suffering. He had become one of them.
Ron Stoppable gathered his weapons and made his way off the road.
No one would understand the emotions that ran through his mind, let alone Ron.Vasilii, Ron's dark sidewanted to disappear to go on the long hunt and dispense justice one round at a time. Ron wanted to put the muzzle of his rifle in his mouth and end the guilt.
However,Ron vowed to walk back to Headquarters before deciding what he would do next with his sorry excuse for a life. He had that final duty. He had to let his squad-mates' families know that that the killers paid for their crimes.