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40,000 feet

By Middlerun

"Damn it. I fold," said Harry, throwing down his cards. He pushed his messy brown hair out of his eyes.
     "I win again," Doug grinned, scooping poker chips over to his side of the table. "Today's just not your lucky day."
     The two of them were scientists who led a military research team, working on isolating genes that improved combat ability. Now they were on board a 747, transporting their result - a genetically enhanced soldier - to their test site in the desert.
     "Yeah," replied Harry. "I'm going to the toilet." He got up and headed down a corridor, passing a group of guards in green camouflage uniform. He entered a toilet cubicle. No sooner had he closed the door than he noticed a sleek black plane flying away.
     "What the..." He heard a number of loud thumps. They sounded like they were coming from outside the...
     BangBangBangBangBangBang!
     Gunshots echoed through the plane. People shouted, guns fired. Harry heard screams of agony, things smashing apart...
     The sounds died away. Whoever it was had moved elsewhere on the plane. Harry ran back up the corridor. What he saw made his skin crawl.
     Dead guard and scientists, ripped open by bullet holes, covered in blood. Knocked over furniture. Brains and blood sprayed all over the walls and floor.
     "Harry..."
     He spun around. It was Doug. His chest had been torn apart by bullets, his blood and intestines spilling out.
     "Stop them... Harry... Before they... kill you..." Doug coughed blood.
     "Doug!" Harry pleaded, "Who did this?"
     Doug coughed up more blood. "They went... toward... the cockpit..." Doug choked a final time and fell on the floor, dead.
     "I'll kill them." Harry felt anger boiling inside him. "I'll kill them."
     Harry got up and ran over to one of the dead guards. He undid the guard's holster and grabbed his Desert Eagle handgun. He walked slowly to the door that led toward the cockpit. It was open just a bit. Suddenly he kicked the door open and ran through.
     "Die!" He screamed running through the door into a corridor. Suddenly he tripped on the foot of another dead guard and fell on the ground. He dropped his gun. He started to get up. Suddenly a bullet hit the ground in front of him. He stumbled back and looked up - to see three figures dressed in black, with black goggles and face masks. They held MP-5 submachine guns, aimed straight at him.
     "Pick up that gun, slowly," the middle one said in a rough voice, "and hand it to me." Harry did as he was told, picking up the handgun by the barrel. He stood up and reached his arm out slowly towards the black-clad man.
     Suddenly, he whipped his hand downwards. The gun spun around on his finger, which was through the trigger guard. The handle landed firmly in his palm and he gripped it in his hand. He squeezed the trigger and fired wildly at the three men.
     Boom! Boom! Boom!
     He kept firing until the gun ran out of bullets. He wiped the blood off his glasses and looked at the three dead men in front of him. They lay in a thick pool of their own blood, riddled with bullet holes. The head of the man who had spoken to him was cracked open like an eggshell.
     Harry was a bit shocked at what he had just done. "This is why I bought Virtua Cop," He muttered to himself. He crouched down and picked up the MP-5 of one of them. It was dripping with blood. He wiped it on the man's black uniform.
     He headed up the corridor, to another door. It was open. He looked through the door... Suddenly, he ducked back behind the wall. On the other side were eight of the black-uniformed men, each armed to the teeth, putting on parachutes. Harry peeked back around the door and saw another man with them. He was tall and muscular, dressed in the same camouflaged clothes as the plane's guards. Harry recognised him instantly - his name was Gregory, and he was the genetically enhanced soldier Harry and his team had developed. The men had him at gunpoint, putting on a parachute as well.
     "OK," one of the men said. "Let's go." Harry watched as, one by one, they jumped out of the open door. Gregory was the second-last to go, followed by a black-clad man poking him in the back with his MP-5.
     They were stealing the one thing that had occupied Harry's mind for 5 years. So Harry did the only thing he could think to do: He jumped out after them.
     Forming the most aerodynamic position he could, and without the wind resistance of a parachute, Harry fell considerably faster than the other men. It wasn't long before he caught up with the last man, his parachute still unopened. To avoid damaging the parachute, he decided not to use his gun. He tucked it into his belt, just before he grabbed the black-uniformed man by the neck. The man roared angrily, but Harry had him in a firm headlock. He grabbed the man's head and twisted it sharply sideways. A sickening crack was heard and the man fell limp. As the other men opened their parachutes, Harry did the same.
     With the weight of the two people, his landing was very hard. He steered the parachute towards a small pond to soften the landing. As the other men landed, he started running toward them. It wasn't long before he saw them standing in a clearing. Without thinking, he charged into the clearing, MP-5 raised.
     "Die you scum!" he screamed as he pulled the trigger.
     Click! Click! Click! Empty.
     "Oh sh-" His eyes widened. The men raised their guns.
     BangBangBangBangBangBang!
     Harry fell to the ground, ripped apart, as blood sprayed the plants behind him. One of the men grabbed his radio.
     "This is Alpha unit Leader," he said. "We have the soldier. The terrorists have been stopped. The bomb has been planted." He turned off the radio and looked down at Harry's crumpled body. "He won't fuck with the SAS again."
     A loud BOOM was heard as the 747 exploded in the distance.