Snippet #1336465

Swagger cracked his neck as the BTR stopped. "I am soldier," he said, slowly getting louder. "I am killer. I am murderer. I AM WAR!"

At the last he shot out of the BTR faster than any man should have been able to move with a massive rifle in his arms. But he was used to this. Swagger swung around the BTR and knelt next to the open ramp, taking aim with his Barret. He pulled the trigger, and a resounding BOOM! echoed even among the other fire. Swagger braced like he was stopping a football player as the recoil tried to rip his shoulder off. The man in his crosshairs exploded into a bloody mess. And the man behind him lost an arm. Satisfied with the shot, Swagger took off in a run after the Pup. He hadn't heard her name. Vik or something. He did know, however, that she was like him. A child soldier. That was one thing, at least, that he could relate to. Since they had no set positions in this raid other than to stick together, Swagger knelt with his back to hers, keeping an eye where she could not. He calmly released his hold on his Barret, pulled his Berreta, and fired a two round burst into a man that had just popped around the other side of the building. "Careful there, Pup," he said, loud and clear. "If three years of fighting doesn't give you eyes in the back of your head, nine months sure as hell don't!"

Swagger kept his gun up. The Berreta, not the cannon held in his left. He didn't want to waste any more of the twenty nine shells he had left. Still, two kills a shot was a good trade. Suddenly, another man popped around the corner, same as the first, and he had a friend. Swagger began squeezing the trigger. "CONTACT!" he roared, standing to guard the Pup with his own body. "Two contacts, direct three of position!"