Author's Note: This piece is not about the war in Iraq, nor any real historical war. The events are entirely fictitious and are not in any way intended to reflect on real people or events. I was suddenly inspired to write this and it dominated my creative core, I couldn't write anything else without putting this piece out. There is no specific war for this story to call a backdrop, indeed the war is actually unimportant to the piece as a whole.

Snipers don't get shot, that's rule number one. Getting shot isn't part of the game. So why was I leaning against a wall bleeding? It was a simple plan, take out the drivers. The enemy was bringing in a few vehicles, just a few, all I had to do was crack a couple of shots through the glass. We had their plans, their movements; we knew what they were doing, where and when.

What we didn't know is that they had our plans, my plans. I've been holed up in this abandoned office for the better part of a week now, peering through my scope and getting to know my environment. Hiding places, key perches, landmarks, possible enemy cover, ranges, I had it all. I patiently bided my time as I waited for them to show up.

My superiors had finished clearing out their tanks a month ago, both sides were running low on resources at this point. It was all our opponents could do to scrape together a few civilian vehicles outfitted with light machine guns. I was here to crush what little vehicular force they still had.

Today was to be my last day of waiting, it's also when things started to go wrong. The technicals were supposed to drive through tomorrow, I was ready for them. As I was giving my scope another cleaning, I heard a loud bang. I ignored it, but I soon heard footsteps. I drew my pistol just as a group of mercenaries entered the room.

Mercenaries! They can't even send in their own men to do their dirty work anymore! I felt the rage burn through me, the rage any solider must feel when these dogs among men who work for the highest bidder come after him. They fight with no pride, no dignity, no sense of nationalism!

It was a bad move, trying to fight several armed and armored men with only a sidearm. I lost that pistol, along with my left hand. It's the price one pays for being cocky, I suppose, if that price doesn't soon include my life. I look down at myself, my vision is so blurred from blood loss that I can barely see anymore. I know I'm wounded at least three times, maybe as many as ten.

So much blood, could it all have come from me? I don't know how I can even stand. My hiding place will fail, I know it will. I left them a trail of blood to follow. A neat little trail! I know they'll find me, all they have to do is follow the blood. Maybe they expect trickery of me, but dying men are not capable of this.

I had no family, no dear friends. I won't be missed. The inevitable will pain no one but me. I look at my rifle, which has served me well over my career. I regard it as my closest friend as I click the safety off. I'm going to die, I know, but I can bring down one of them with me. One shot, they ran me off without my ammo but I have one shot!

I hear the door crash in, I see the specks of light from the lasers on their submachine guns. They're here, they're following my trail. I balance the forward grip of my rifle on my stump, causing pain to shoot through me. I'm about to die, I can feel the reaper looking over my shoulder as they draw closer. It has to be now.

I step out from behind the wall, standing in the doorway as I struggle to line up a shot. Their guns train on me immediately, I can see time slow nearly to a stop in front of me as their fingers began to move against the triggers of their weapons. I pull faster, my rifle cuts a thunderous roar as a three foot tongue of flame propels a hot bit of steel-cored, copper jacketed lead at supersonic speed.

The skull of one of their men collapses under the great velocity, and the round continues to travel and firmly plant itself in the forehead of the man behind him. I feel a smile come over my face as I watch them both fall. A grim smile I take with me to the grave as bullets tear through my broken body.

Everything is going dark now, this is the end. I die gladly knowing two of their men fell by my hand. I die smiling.