03-05-2009, 03:23 PM
[Undisclosed Urban Environment]
Gunshots echo across the cityscape, followed by shouting, screaming, and an ungodly howl.
The Project known as Cowboy was currently combatting a group of "junkas", furs who believed themselves to be "gangsta" and "hardcore".
They were losing. And Cowboy hadn't even fired his weapon, yet.
The cops were on their way, the howling of their sirens echoing between the buildings, as the wolf-looking experiment howled, and pulled the weapon off his back. He fired it at the Cadillac the Junkas were hiding behind, the sheer sound of the weapon going off blowing the glass out. The sabot round broke apart, the sleek needle-shaped round piercing the fender of the large car, before exploding in a burst of shrapnel.
Cowboy's ears twitched, as he heard the cop cars draw nearer.
[Classified Military Installation]
Gen. Harris walked into the briefing room, where the four people sat. One, his wife, a professional sniper, smiled at him, while the other he knew simply as Duke played with a grenade, spinning it on the polished table.
"Thank you for coming," he began, "this is a classified mission, and due to the nature of the mission, and our lack of resources, we have brought in two of the best freelance mercenaries we could muster."
He gestured to Gol and Sheila, and Sable snorted quietly.
"...they're just kids. This is supposed to be a mission, not babysitting." She muttered, her voice deep, smokey, and just a bit sensual.
Gunshots echo across the cityscape, followed by shouting, screaming, and an ungodly howl.
The Project known as Cowboy was currently combatting a group of "junkas", furs who believed themselves to be "gangsta" and "hardcore".
They were losing. And Cowboy hadn't even fired his weapon, yet.
The cops were on their way, the howling of their sirens echoing between the buildings, as the wolf-looking experiment howled, and pulled the weapon off his back. He fired it at the Cadillac the Junkas were hiding behind, the sheer sound of the weapon going off blowing the glass out. The sabot round broke apart, the sleek needle-shaped round piercing the fender of the large car, before exploding in a burst of shrapnel.
Cowboy's ears twitched, as he heard the cop cars draw nearer.
[Classified Military Installation]
Gen. Harris walked into the briefing room, where the four people sat. One, his wife, a professional sniper, smiled at him, while the other he knew simply as Duke played with a grenade, spinning it on the polished table.
"Thank you for coming," he began, "this is a classified mission, and due to the nature of the mission, and our lack of resources, we have brought in two of the best freelance mercenaries we could muster."
He gestured to Gol and Sheila, and Sable snorted quietly.
"...they're just kids. This is supposed to be a mission, not babysitting." She muttered, her voice deep, smokey, and just a bit sensual.
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
