The Ace Of Spades

WARNING: The following story is the first chapter of hopefully many. However, it is has some blood and gore, so if you are sensitive to those things, do not read.

Spoiler

[SIZE=12.5pt]The Ace Of Spades[/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=12.5pt]The knave of hearts, he stole the tarts.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]The queen of hearts saw through his façade.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]She sent for help, she sent for Aid,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]And the Ace of Spades sharpened his blades.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]In the darkness of the night, he struck,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]The thief with the prize in his hand,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]And by fate or by luck,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]Near the doors, which were grand,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]The Ace of Spades stood, hand by his knife.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]Without hesitation, without inner strife,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]The Ace of Spades, he threw his blades.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]In a deadly glimmer, they flashed.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]The thief had time enough to turn his head.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]Then they clashed,[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]And even before hitting the floor, the thief was dead.[/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=12.5pt]CHAPTER ONE[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12.5pt]The sun rises and showers the city of lights, coating the streets with a golden glow. And in a corner, crouched close to my gun, it falls on my face, waking me up from a nice cozy dream. I yawn as I cradle my pistol to my chest, wondering where my pillow was, in a blissful fantasy of peace. Then I remember the war, the deaths, the lives I had taken, and all good thoughts vanish in an instant.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I stumbled out of my sleep, and almost drunkenly made my way out to the window of the three story apartment I'm using as my bed for the night to judge the time. Looking, I estimate the time to be around five in the morning. Loads of time to read my Fajr prayers.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I make my way to the bathroom, weaving sleepily, and test the water. Thankfully, it works. I splash some on my face and rub, clearing the last traces of sleep out. Next time I look in the mirror, I look more or less like I did two years ago, before this madness started. About 5"7, dark hair, groggy eyes, tanned skin. It's almost possible to believe the last two years haven't happened, that I haven't lost my family to bombings, that all I have to deal with is a piece of homework I forgot to do. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]But I prefer not to maintain the illusion. Yes, it would have been so much better if it was still normal. But it isn't, the US bombed Pakistan, and I would be a fool to imagine anything else.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I sigh as I look back on the ruined city of Karachi. Once majestic, a bustling metropolis, alive with spirit, is was now a wasteland of gutter water, dead bodies, blood, and wrecks of buildings. Where did we go wrong?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I look back and think as I do my Wadu, the cleansing of body before prayers, and come to the conclusion that it all started when the US sent raid drones.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The US had run been running out of natural resources. The people had been using them too quickly, and soon they were bankrupt as well, a product of them spending too much on buying from other countries, and because the people of America couldn't imagine a life without the relative luxury they lived in. It would have been laughable, if it hadn't been so selfishly terrible.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I finish my Wadu, and look for a prayer mat. Unfortunately I couldn't find one, so I took off my shirt and laid it on the dusty, dirty ground and started my prayers. A Muslim isn't supposed to focus on anything but God during prayer, so I drove thoughts of the war off my mind and focused on my prayer.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]It took me a few minutes to read my prayer, and another few to say my praises of God, then I covered my face with my hands and swept as if brushing of the sin. It had become somewhat of a habit in me after prayers.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I pondered over whether to fast or not. It had been a few days since my last one, but I had woken up too late. In the end, I decided to keep one today as well as a proper one the next day. I pulled a soda out of my bag, as well as a few sandwiches, and hungrily ate a sandwich and a half, then washed it down with some soda. I then put the remainder of the food, minus the other half of the sandwich, in my bag, to stay there until Maghrib, when I would break my fast with another sandwich.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]As I munched on the little bit of food left, I resumed my internal debate about what started the war.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The US started using their drones, which had once been for protection, to raid food from the other countries. It targeted Pakistan, thinking it was probably an easy target. However, we caught one of the drones, and destroyed it as an example.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The US went berserk. Ranting about 'destroying American property', they launched bombs on the helpless, doomed citizens of Pakistan.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]Most fell on the first day. Some more fell victim to the aircrafts the US was now sending to raid our country. Many protested in the first month. The smarter ones lay low.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The city was now a desolate, sprawling ruin. The once proud, towering sky scrapers and building had been reduced to chunks of cement and rubble. The busiest of streets were overflowing with dead, lifeless bodies. Men, women, children-no one was spared.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]For a long time I refused to believe it. I still couldn't. How could people be so monstrous as to go to the lengths of crippling their own blood brothers and sisters just so they could walk freely?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The thing that was most depressing though, was the silence. Karachi had been a center of attention, a metropolis of life. The city was a bubbling, buzzing place. Even if you couldn't hear traffic in the more quiet areas of the city, you could still hear the laughter of children as they played cricket around street corners, the sounds of women haggling with shopkeepers, the moving song of the mocking bird as it flew happily through the city, the raven cawing happily as it bit into a piece of bread someone had scrunched up and left out for it. All of that was gone. The children lay in pools of blood and gore in their playgrounds. The women lay lifeless in the malls; the cloth they were buying ripped and charred to shreds. The mockingbirds were nowhere to be found, and you were lucky if you heard the creaking crowing of a raven.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]It's not that quiet where I am, though. I am in Saddar, one of the busier parts of the city. Even though it has fallen since its glory days, you can still hear the buzzing of the generators...[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The thought fades in my head as I drop my sandwich.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]Generators need oil to power up. It wouldn't be running after two years. That means I'm dealing with something else. Something I don't want to admit to yet.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I rush to the window. Cautiously, I stick my head over the edge.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"Hell!" Someone curses, and a bullet whacks itself into the brick next to my eye. I duck back and ball up as a hail of bullets storms the room. Just as I suspected, an American raiding envoy.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I swear under my breath, and scrabble for my pistol, even though I know it won't be enough. I look for my bag. There was a grenade in there that I could use.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I spot my bag and scrabble for it as I hear the sound of a helicopters wings whirring. I rip it open, and grab a knife and the grenade. I hoist my bag onto my shoulders, then wait. I pull up close to the window, clutching the pistol in my hand, and quickly, quietly, cautiously look.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]A helicopter is a few feet above the ground. A man sticks his head out of the side, lifts a rifle, and shoots blindly. A fool.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]Risking my arm, I quickly stick my head out of the window, take aim and fire.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The man's head explodes in a shower of blood. I duck back as the man falls out of the chopper, along with the rifle.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]One of the men swears. A few moments later, a grenade flies into the room. As soon as I catch sight of it, I put my arms over my head and roll away from it, into the bathroom.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]As I roll into the bathroom, the grenade explodes, sending a wave of heat onto my back.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I duck around the comote and pull out the grenade and hold the gun to my chest. These guys aren't holding back.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]With a grunt, I hoist myself to my feet, and race to the side of the room. I focus on the window on the opposite side of the room. I can hear the helicopter whirring. I'm in a series of close flats. On the other side of that window is a safe house. I clear my mind and pretend I am playing baraf pani, and that the window is simply a chair in the middle of the game.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The helicopter pulls up next to the room. The Americans start to climb through the window.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]With a suicidal roar, I race towards the window. Simultaneously, I unclasp the grenade and toss it blindly. I hear yells of shock and wild gunfire. One of the bullets grazes my left leg. I don't flinch, I focus on the window and my make pretend game. I am the last person remaining and I have to clear that jump so I can free my teammates from being barafed. I near the window..... I am almost next to the window.... I yell with exhilaration as I jump through the window.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]It's a beautifully well timed jump, and the grenade goes off just as I make it. The blast actually helps me, sending me sailing into the flat on the other side at the expense of my shirt getting scorched.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I whirl around and stick my head out of the window to catch the action. It seems my grenade worked out even better than I expected. The helicopters engine is burning.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The three remaining Americans jump out of the helicopter. One of them gets his back caught on the door.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"No! Gerald!" he screams. The helicopters engine splutters. I realize it's going to be loud.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I duck back into flat and cover my ears and eyes.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]The explosion is deafening. I'm surprised my ears didn't start bleeding.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]As soon as it is over, I look out of the window. The two remaining Americans are all badly singed, to say the least. I see one of them is a kid. I don't care.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I race out of the flat, down three flights of stairs. I come out into the alley where the Americans lie. Overflowing with garbage and gutter water, it is a filthy, fitting end for a disgusting race.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I race over to the adult, ignoring the moaning kid. The adult is more badly singed than the kid. Even if I don't kill him, he's still gotten second to third degree burns all over his body. He doesn't have a lot of time left without medication. Even less with me on the agenda.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I walk over to him, bend over in front of him and snarl.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]He spits blood out of his mouth, then looks me over.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"You're...Just a....Kid." He coughs. I stay silent.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"Come on.....then. Shoot ....me." he growls.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I pull out my pistol and let him see it. He puts his head back and sighs.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"No." I snarl. "Look me in the eyes."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]He chuckles. "As....You wish." He stares me full in the eye, not even a dot of remorse in his eyes. They darken suddenly.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"Kill.....my son....painlessly." he croaks. I look around and see the kid crawling towards us, muttering softly, terror in his eyes.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"Ill think about it." I smile. I put my gun to his forehead.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"Bastard." He swears. I pull the trigger. Gore spurts everywhere. His eyes go wide before drowning in the torrent of blood. There's a choking sound from the son behind me. I whip my hand away before the blood hits it.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]"NO!" the son shrieks in terror. "Dad!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]He crawls over and lays his head on the man's chest. Tears of fear and sorrow trickle from his face.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12.5pt]I stand up and look to one side as the kid, a fourteen year old, bawls over the butchered body of his father.[/SIZE]