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Naked Snake

Final Doom story TEASER (not final draft)

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Guard duty, the post that Marines dread most. Dull, uneventful guard duty. Now, slap the fact that this on Io, a moon of Jupiter and that we have not had an attack in decades. I myself had only been a child during the Hell War. My father had been killed and my mother went slowly insane, she finally snapped a few years after I joined the Marine Corps. She always carried a pistol in her purse and she was in a mall, she thought the shoppers were zombies so she started shooting. When she had killed at least 15 people she realized what she had done and took her life. Shortly after the funeral I had been called to the Shrink on the Io base. After rigorous testing they said I was sane, which was only half true.

My name is John Haskin, I am 23 years old and I am a Private First Class in the United States Marine Corps. Frankly, ever since I had been stationed on Io I had been terminally ill with the boredom bug. Days seemed to drag on for an Eternity, an hour turned into a month a day was 5 years and I was sick of it. When I heard that the hero of the Hell Wars was being stationed here I was estatic. I could finally meet this man. His named escaped me but I knew one thing. He was the greatest soldier ever. I stood near the door where the Gate Lab was. My day consisted of standing next to the door weilding a SIG-COW with a bayonet and watching scientists and top officials scurry in and out of the labs like rats. Once in a while a lab tech would acknowledge me by saying "Hello" or "How's it goin'?". There was one lab tech, Jennifer Rothchild, whom I adored. She knew my feelings and she took every chance to flirt with me. I, in turn, flirted back, being the slick dog I am. Other than a few chats with Jen, my shift was bland. I wish there was something that I could do on this friggin' base other than rot.

I was dismissed after standing next to that fucking door for 6 and a half hours and I took the time to shower and then get dressed in civvies and head to the Mess/Rec Hall. I spotted my buddies Eric Jackson, who had a boyish face, green eyes and blonde hair, Ryan Craye who had a scar on his cheek from a bar fight and Steven Astor, the youngest but certainly not the smallest. He stood a good 6 feet 4 inches or so and was built like an Ox. Steven waved me over to the table and called out "hey John, get your ass over here!". I sat down at the table and Eric pulled out a deck of cards.
"The game is poker, gentlemen," Eric said with a grin, he always said that ", 5 cards, deuces and threes are wild, no jokers, no bullshit, now, let's play!". He dealt the cards and I looked at my hand, keeping my "poker face" even though I wanted to curse. My hand was shitty. I had a Queen, a Jack, an 8, a 7 and a 2. I dropped the Queen, Jack and 2 and got new cards. Eric held his ground, Steven asked for 2 cards and Ryan scratched his chin, deep in thought, then asked for 1 card. I looked at my hand and had to fight my smile. I got a 5, 6, and a 9. With a sly grin I showed my hands.
"Beat that" I smuggly announced.
"FUCK" Steven pounded the table and threw down his hand.
"I'm out" Ryan said.
"Ha, suck on this" Eric said, revealing his hand. A royal flush.
"You son of a bitch" I muttered as Eric pumped his hands in the air in victory. Suddenly the red alert siren was ringing, calling us back from our world of fun. I rushed to my quarters, nabbed up my gear, got dressed in my Security Suit, lock and loaded my weapon and headed to the Situation Room.

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Not bad, a few grammer mistakes in the second paragraph.

BTW, I am planning on writing my own Final Doom story soon, after I finish Doom Squared. Let's try not to compete. :P

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