Reaper.
The word describes a destroyer, killer, a butcher, and maybe some other terms. Perhaps all violent actions could be defined into the word reaper, an all in one package of death. Perhaps reaper is just a part of many violent actions, or a part of one.
To me, reaper is a hollow word which doesn't matter in any way. Reaper is some combination of a humdrum of other useless words. Of course, this doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
Reaper is my name.
***
I am one of many among the Soldats, an assortment of different people of an unknown origin, all here forced to kill each other with a variety of weapons. The people who force us to do this are masked, perhaps also people without an origin. They use tasers as their words, strapping us in shackles and pushing us into the arenas that we must fight in. I had seen so much death and pain and have caused so much of it in the battles that these men have made me a name: Reaper.
As I enter the armoury, the area in this facility in which I get the weapons to kill all those beside me, I pick up the Steyr. Described as a ten bullet kill, it seems like quite a nice weapon as to my bad aim. I walk further down the hall I am in, going in a single file line to enter the battlefield. I look at the back of the head of the person i front of me. I see two bandaged bullet wounds and a stitch protruding from the back of his head downwards until body armour covers it. This man I know, and thought had died by the MP5 shots and knife wounds I placed in him yesterday. It's a bad thing he was healed, because I'd prefer a little less competition.
I finally enter the arena, a barren desert facing a heavy sandstorm. I look to the left, then to the right. I can see the shillouettes of crates and other people running to their positions. I feel a slight jab on my back from the guard who hits me with a taser, pushing me in. From here on I find a wooden box and hide behind it, making sure nobody is in front of me. My signaller starts to beep:
3...2...1...GO!
Killing time. I see a soldier rushing at me with an MP5 as I get out of cover. I throw a grenade which he "catches" with his head. That's one. Two. Three. Four, Five. Six. Seve-- ARGH!
My left arm is slightly cut on the outside from a fast moving bullet behgind me. I turn around and see someone in the distance. A sniper. I throw a grenade, but the sniper notices it through the sandstorm and his shillouette moves to my left. I run over more to the sniper, moving all over and shooting at him with my Steyr. No effect is made, and a shot whizzes by my ear. Way too close for comfort. I finally get close to the sniper, about ten feet. I still can't see his face, but I'm sure he's using a Barre-- DAMNIT! He just paralyzed my left arm with a shot. I move backwards quickly and drunkedly, aiming hell-knows-where one handed with the Steyr. I feel the thump of a rock against my back and stop moving. I then take out a grenade and throw it stright to my attacker. I hear a boom, and notice that the shots have stopped firing. That makes eigh-- AAH! GODDAMNIT!
A knife hits my right arm, making me drop my Steyr. Well well. He's a sniper and a dart thrower. Looks like he's coming this way. Shit. He takes the knife out of my arm as I drop to the ground, writhing in pain. He takes a out his Barret and shoots me in the gut. Everything is faint and I can't breathe. It's surprising I'm still alive. Although my vision is blurry, I can make out who this man is. The very same one I almost killed in the previous battle. He smiles faintly, then jabs his knife into my head.
***
To me, reaper is a hollow word which doesn't matter in any way. Reaper is some combination of a humdrum of other useless words. Of course, this doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
Reaper is now his name.
This has been a stupid Soldat FanFic.
