Oh darn... this is going to hurt.
Schizzy hit the ground. Hard.
He neglected to roll, and rocks, asphalt and dead sticks ripped at his skin as he slid to a stop.
Dazed and bleeding, Schizzy looked up.
The black van he jumped out of was at a dead stop. And under 70 tons of steel of an M1 Abrams.
I hope staika's okay.
Then he saw some words painted on the steel mass.
No longer possessing his glasses, he squinted to read the words.
Death...
The tank rumbled on.
is...
the turret whirred as it pointed at Schizzy's prone and broken form.
...coming.
I hope that's not meant mean me. Please don't be coming for me.
"I am your death, and I'm coming for you," boomed a voice from the M1 Abrams.
Oh darn.
The cannon boomed...
Not my best. But since the game is going on so nice and quick, I thought I'd quickly write one up.