It's Probably Not Going to Be Like This

The only thing raging harder than the vengeance in the air was the driving rain storm. Creating a slick surface on the roof tops, I knew I'd have only one chance to take down The Warlock's helicopter.

"Nice try, you ignorant fool!" he called to me, his hideous voice barely audible over a thunder clap tearing apart the sky. "The aftershocks of my retaliation will shake the very foundations of this earth, and sicken the souls of your murdered family!" He spat whatever fluid congealed itself regularly in his mouth to the echoing city below.

"Ah," I thought. "Now there's an idea."

As he swung inside the flying steel beast and threw me a sarcastic farewell wave, a final insult drifted across the air to me: "I can hardly believe they let you hold a sword!"

"Maybe you're right," I breathed, a sly smile crossing my face. The legions of dead henchmen behind me agreed... perhaps now was not the moment for The Warlock to get cocky.

He failed to hear my threat, which made its execution all the more perfect. With a mighty leap, I let loose the sword that had become more of a friend than a weapon into the screaming night sky. Catching the propeller head-on, a small stream of sparks signified a direct hit, and separated the most critical part of the chopper from its passengers.

"Great work, Skullthirst," I stated, the wind savagely taking what was left of the helicopter deep into the stratosphere. "Now... return to me."

Like an arrow, its handle appeared back in my eager hands, a blood lust quenched. At least for a few moments.

Warlock had managed to grab the edge of the building as he fell and was struggling to pull himself up; the last cockroach in the gas cloud, squirming for a survival it didn't deserve. I stepped on his fingers and he screamed.

"How?! HOW DID YOU LEARN TO--"

Lifting my foot, he bid a fond farewell to being alive and his cranium met the pavement in a most colorful display.

"Swordplay for the Actor. Mondays, 3:40 to 6:10 in Tomlinson Theater," I replied. "Attendance is mandatory."

Red Rings Drop a Deuce

Like most things that touch my fingers, my X360 took its own life last week as I attempted to turn it on. It was a casual brush of the power button at first, which quickly became several increasingly-desperate attempts to avoid facing the inevitable.

He was gone.

About a year before, I was happy. My ex-X360 and I were happily entertaining a group of friends. Sam and I were terrorist hunting. I had recently been shot in the head.

"Whoa, way to go," Sam snarled snarkily as he stomped passed my corpse, cooly inserting a pair of bullets into the heads of men who hated freedom. Those around us chuckled at his hilarious use of sarcasm.

"Fuck you," I replied, "Ha ha, just kidding." But really I'm not kidding, I added in my brain.

Unfortunately, X360 must have thought I was talking to him, and, wildly offended, promptly killed himself. The red rings blinked like a muzzle flash from a pistol pointed at my dreams.

And it was over.

I thought another 360 would change things, but it really hasn't. And now, I'm on the rebound again, carelessly playing previous-gen Xbox games that know I don't really care about them. I had some good romps with The Godfather, sure, but today I actually inserted Darkwatch into the disk drive.

Darkwatch? What the fuck is that?

I'll tell you what it is. Its an awful, awkward western ghost-hunting FPS that took a control scheme a generation of gamers got used to playing Halo and switched all the buttons around so that instead of switching weapons, you start to fly. Oh, and instead of Cortana, it has a woman with a country music voice telling you to watch out for ghost Indians. Seriously. If I wanted to be bossed around by Reba McEntire, I'd pass out on the couch with Lifetime on and wait for her to build a nightmare in my subconscious.

Anyways. I've had Gears of War 2 since Christmas and didn't play it because I thought I should get through Fable 2 first. And now GOW2 doesn't have a home.

That's the last time I try to finish someth