By: Striker Elite
My name is Striker Elite, a former of Baltimore Maryland’s Soaker Strike Team. This story is about how my soaker team went Ronin, as the samurai would say.
It all Started in Summer of 1997, when by gang of fighters decided to confront our enemies head on. This time it wasn’t for a battle, but a war.
At the time, I was in Kindergarden, so I was armed with a Max-D rifle of some sort. There were 4 other members of the team, Black Hawk, armed with a Max-D rifle, Death Striker, armed with a CPS 2000, Fire Elite, armed with a CPS 4000, and Water Warrior, armed with a storm rifle. Fire Elite and I were on the elites, while the others were lower class soldiers.
Our unit arrived on the battlefield, Sweating from the extreme heat and humidity, ready to sneak-attack a 3-man unit of enemies. They were all armed with a water balloon each, and water rifles. My team, Black Hawk and me, went throgh the woods to confront their rear, while the others stayed put to wait for us to attack before confronting them.
After about 10 minutes, my posse was finally behind the enemies. We drew our guns, but right before we could pull the trigger for the kill, the other team emerged from the other end of the arena, causing a huge racket.
The leader of that team, Fire Elite, screamed “CHARGE!!!” at the top of his lungs. Our foes were instantly on the alert. “You idiot,” Black Hawk yelled. Now the enemies new of us, too.
2 of the 3 fiends stayed with me and Blak Hawk, the other confronted the main team. The enemy after the 3 guys was nearly instantly annihilated. As the other 2 soldiers pulled their triggers, I dived professionally to the side. Black Hawk didn’t, and took 1 of them down with him. I sprinted at full speed to retreive the fallen enemy’s water balloon. I threw it at the surviving person.
“Mission Complete,” I told the arriving team. Water Warrior and Death Striker grabbed the saturated Black Hawk by his shoulders like he was truely an injured soldier.
“Alright, team. Now there’s 1 thing left to do,” Fire Elite said. “Striker, hit that enemy scum bag as hard as you can with your gun.” I stared at the 4 year-old girl. She was soaked, and curled uo in a ball. I shook my head. “Do it now!” the leader ordered. In furiosity I drew my gun and sprayed him in the eyes. It was a perfect shot. He started crying. “Argh! You’ll pay for that! Kill him, team!”
The rest of the team held their guns to him. Death Striker wacked Fire Elite on the back of his head. We all started beating him.
After we had our share of enjoyment, we tied up Fire Elite and left him on his fromt porch. Now, our mission was a true success.
The Next Day…
I innocently ate my lunch as our phone rang. My mom answered it. “Hello,” she said. “Yes, this is Lisa… What!? He did? I will see to it that it won’t happen again!” She hung up the phone. I was punished. A month later, in the afternoon, I realized the whole team had been punished. We all, with the exception of Fire Elite, gathered at my house to plot our revenge.
To be continued…