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C.S.I. (Counter Strike Investigations) |
| Written by Daniel Van Werkhoven | |
| Friday, 25 April 2008 | |
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Share it:      Have you ever wondered; what happens to a Hostage in Counter Strike when they are not waiting to be rescued? Do they have social lives? Do they wonder about life after death? Today, you'll find out. In a white room somewhere other than here, was a queue, a queue with a lot of people in it, people who were... Queuing... At the end of the queue, two people were talking, their conversation went something like this: "So, where do you think you'll go today?" said one. "I dunno, I'm hoping I go to Militia," replied the other, staring in a fascinated fashion at a light on the roof. "Really? I don't like Militia." "You don't? Why on earth not?" asked the second one aghast, still staring at the light on the roof. " 'Cause I always have very near death experiences in it," the first replied, now wondering what was on the roof, but not wanting to look. "Ohh. I see." The first risked looking up. "Haha! Fooled you!" "Dammit!" The conversation lapsed into silence. "So... What'd you do today?" asked the second. "Umm. I was a hostage for five minutes, and I've been waiting here ever since." " 'K." The conversation lapsed again. "My name is Bob," said the first. "I'm Harry, pleased to meet you," Harry replied. They reached the front of of the queue. "Hello sir, how are you today?" Asked the lady behind the counter. "Pretty good I guess, I'm alive so that's okay," answered Bob. "Oh, that is good," smiled the lady. She looked at a list in front of her, "Looks like it's Militia for you, that's the third door on the left," she smiled cheerfully at him, "Next!" "But, but, but, I don't want to go there!" wailed Bob. "Next!" snapped the lady behind the counter. She clearly hated people who whined. Bob glared at her, turned, and stalked off down the hall. "Hello sir, how are you today?" she asked, her smile returning as Harry stepped up to the counter. "Not bad," he said, "Say, don't you get tired of saying that same thing over, and over, and over again?" She looked puzzled, "No. Why should I?" It was his turn to look surprised, "Oh. I don't know, just wondering," he mumbled. "Right.." she looks at her list again, "Militia for you to, third door on the left. Next!" Harry tried not to grin as he hurried down the hall, just incase she decided to send him somewhere else. The garage was dark, no one had bothered to turn the light on. Four hostages stood in the darkness. "I say, this is dull isn't it?" said one. "That's cause the game hasn't started yet," Harry explained patiently. "Oh..." "Ah, there we go, the game has started," Harry said. "Really? How do you know?" asked the first one. "It's easy. The little timer on the bottom of the screen has started ticking down," Harry explained. "Ah, I never noticed that before," said the first one. "By the way, what's your name?" Harry asked him. "I'm Smith, and you are?" "Harry." "Nice to meet you Harry," Smith turned to the other two, "Well, you know us, so?" "I'm Bob," said Bob. "I'm James," the person named James chimed in. "Nice to meet you all," said Smith. "Yes, nice to meet you," agreed Harry. They were interrupted by the sound of voices out side the door. "wer u go" said one voice. "2 teh atic" the other one said. The door creaked open, and two terrorists ran in. One instantly made his way to the staircase, on the other side of the room, and ran up it. The other one looked around the room quickly, then followed the first up the stairs. "What were they saying? Was it some kind of secret code or something?" asked James his eyes dancing at the thought. "So," asked Harry dryly, "This is your first game is it?" "Why yes, yes it is. How'd you guess?" replied James, smiling broadly. "Oh," Harry shrugged, "Intuition." "To answer your question," Smith volunteered, "No, it is not any form of code, it is Noob speak, all the terrorists speak like that." "Oh, so you know what they're saying?" "Sort of, I have a basic grasp of the... Language, but no more." "No one should have more than a basic grasp of the... Language," Harry interjected dryly. "How true," Smith agreed. "Hey! What does that mean?" James exclaimed excitedly. "What? Where?" cried the other three in unison. "Up in the top right hand corner of the screen," James replied. "Oh, that's the frag counter, shows who killed who," Bob supplied. "Ahhhh," James ahhed knowingly, "So blue is the good guys?" "Whoo, stand back people! We are in the presence of a genius here," said Harry, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Hey, cut that out, the counter terrorists are coming to rescue us!" Smith said excitedly. "Really? Lets go watch them come!" James said, his whole face lighting up. He didn't wait for the others, but ran to the stairs. Just as the terrorists were coming down. They meet at the bottom. "u noob stupd hostge" the first terrorist said. "Hey, move it buster, I want to watch, and the window is up there!" James snapped. Blam! The sound of the Desert Eagle going off in the small space was deafening. James slumped to the ground. "James!" Bob screamed, "You! You! You killed him! He rounded on the terrorist, 'How could you? He just wanted to see what was going on!" he ran at the terrorists, but he could do nothing. The terrorists ran out of the room, paying them no heed, except to insult them, "ur gay" There was a gurgle from the base of the stairs where James was lying. The others quickly crowded round him. "The... The pixels... Fading..." James' voice was naught but a whisper, "Everything... Going 16... Bit..." "No James! Don't die on us!" Smith pleaded, "Your new to this, you can't die!" "I see... The bloom... At... The end of... The tunnel..." his head lolled to one side, his eyes closing. "The dirty cheats!" this was Harry, his voice unsteady with anger, "No one, and I mean no one. deserves to die like that!" "R.I.P. James, may you find peace in the great High Rise in the sky," Smith said solemnly. They all bowed their heads, and stood in silence for a few seconds, before Bob said: "So, wanna watch the counter terrorists come?" "Yeah, sure." "Why not?" "Lets go then," said Bob, as he turned and made his way up the stairs. "Hey look," Bob said, pointing out the window at the Navy Seals who were making their way toward the building, jumping to avoid sniper fire, "Here come the cavalry." "Heh, ever wonder why they call them frog men?" queried Harry, he was meet with blank stares, he sighed, "Look at them, hopping along like that, they look just like frogs." "Ohhh, I see," said Bob, the light dawning. "Hehe, frog men," snickered Smith. They were interrupted by the return of the two terrorists. "wat u do here" Asked one, "u sposd 2 b down ther" he went on, indicating down the stairs. "msut b servr bug" said the other. "Well, we thought we'd pop up here to catch some of the action," Bob explained. The terrorist who had spoken just stared at him blankly. "There's no point Bob," Smith told him, "They can't understand you, English is not one of their strong points I'm afraid." The terrorists shouldered past them to the window. The first one aimed his AK-47 at one the counter terrorists, he let fire, the room was filled with the slow clunky chatter of the AK-47. Out side, the counter terrorist that the terrorist had singled out, dropped under the heavy fire of the AK-47. "lol did u c taht" the one at the window asked excitedly, "he came rond teh cornr an i was like boom! head shot! an now ther dancin lol dancin ther dancin pheer me" "lol pwned" the second one grinned, "im gonna ta camp in ther spwn zone" "u rulz lol" replied the second one, taking down another counter terrorist, "boom! head shot!" The second terrorist turned and ran back down the stairs, leaving the first to hold of the other two incoming counter terrorists. Harry checked the scores, "Hey, those two CTs incoming are the last of the good guys, and that terrorist," he pointed to the one at the window, "and the cheat who's going to go camping, are the last two terrorists." Blam! Blam! Two shots from the AK-47 echoed out. ~<kane>~ killed -><~n30~><- "Make that, the one CT out there, and the two terrorists are the last ones," Harry added dryly. "Cor blimey," Smith said, indicating to the terrorist at the window, "That makes the fourth CT he's killed. I wish someone would just kill him!" No sooner then he finished saying that, then a distant boom of a Desert Eagle could be heard. The head of the terrorist known as ~<kane>~ snapped back. -><~1337m4573r~><- killed ~<kane>~ "Boom! Head shot!" yelled Bob. "Whoo hoo! That makes one dude for each team. You know, we might actually win this!" Smith exclaimed happily. "Umm, guys,' Harry interjected, "I hate to burst your bubble, but..." he looked at each of them in turn, "Unless one of you dudes can speak 1337, I think our chances of winning are low." Bob and Smith paused mid jig. "Umm, why?" Smith asked suspiciously. "Because our little friend, the terrorist, is camping," Harry explained patiently. "Erm, so what's that got to do with anything?" asked Bob, raising an eyebrow. "Did either of you see what gun he had?" asked Harry, his normally cheerful disposition quickly diminishing. Smith and Bob looked at each other, then back to Harry, "Err, no.. Not exactly, no," they replied. Harry sighed, "He had an AWM." "What's that?" Bob asked innocently. "Argh!" Harry wailed, raising his hands to the sky, "Why me? Why is it always me who has to put up with the incompetents? An AWM is an Arctic Warfare Magnum, only the single most powerful gun in the game!" he explained impatiently, "A single shot will pierce any armour, it will kill you no matter where it hits. And Mister Terrorist is camping with it! That is why we have a low chance of winning, unless one of you two can speak 1337, and tell the CT about the camper!" "Ahh, I see," Bob smiled, and then it dawned on him just what Harry had said, and his smile faded, "Ohh..." "Yes, 'Ohh...' Is right," Harry sighed. They were interrupted by the arrival of the last remaining counter terrorist. "I 4m 7h3 31i73 c0m4nd3r -><~1337m4573r~><-, I'v3 c0m3 to 54v3 y0u," he ran up to each of them, tagging them to follow him. He then turned and ran down the stairs. The three hostages ran after him, not just because they wanted to, but they had been tagged, they had to follow who ever tagged them. "Hey Harry, what did he just say?" Bob asked as they ran through the kitchen. "I'm not sure, I think it was something about saving us, but I can't be sure," he replied as they rounded the corner. They reached the door, the counter terrorist opened it, and carefully checked that the coast was clear, it was, so he ran out. "We have to warn him about the camper," Smith said, worry creeping into his voice, "We can't lose after all this!" "I agree," said Harry, "So neither of you can speak 1337?" "No, sorry," Bob replied. "I can speak a few words, but nothing substantial," Smith said. They dodged around a rock, the counter terrorist jumping to avoid the possibilty of being hit by the sniper "Ah, good. We need to say something like 'There's a camper waiting in your spawn zone,' " Harry told him. "So, umm, for 'there's,' that's '7' for 'T,' '3' for 'E' and '5' for 'S,' so that makes '7h3r3'5,' one down!" said Smith. "Good good. Erm, so that's a '4' for 'A,' '7h3r3 4 c4mp3r,' " Harry muttered. "Come on guys, we don't have much time left," Bob said as they cleared the last rock, and were now heading straight for the tunnel that marked the last leg of the journey to safety. "Yeah yeah," replied Harry, sweat starting to appear on his brow, "Umm, 'waiting' Err, that's 'w4i7in9,' 'in' That's, that's, that's just 'in.' " They entered the tunnel. The counter terrorist had stopped jumping now, the nearness of safety making him feel confident. "I've got it!" exclaimed Smith excitedly, "7h3r3'5 4 c4mp3r w4i7in9 in 7h3 5p4wn y0ur z0n3!" Nothing happened, the counter terrorist just kept running. "His name! We need his name for him to hear us!" Harry cried frantically. He quickly checked the player list. "-><~1337m4573r~><-, it's -><~1337m4573r~><-!" They reached a bend in the tunnel and went round, the end of the tunnel was now in sight. "H3y! -><~1337m4573r~><-!" Smith yelled. This time it worked, the counter terrorist known as -><~1337m4s73r~><- turned around, so he was now running backwards, he looked puzzled that someone had spoken to him. "-><~1337m4573r~><-! 7h3r3'5 4 c4mp3r w4i7in9 in 7h3 5p4wn y0ur z0n3!" yelled the now frantic Smith. It finally dawned on the counter terrorist what they were saying. He spun around, just as they emerged from the tunnel. Light flared as the bloom took effect. Bob's mouth formed an O. -><~1337m4573r~><- spun back around and tried to aim through the blinding light. The terrorist raised his AWM. Boom! -><~1337m4573r~><- slumped to the ground. "Dang! That just sucks," said Harry. "Now what?" asked Bob. "We do it again, till we die, or the CTs win," Smith told him. "Oh." Out of nowhere a voice said: "Terrorists win." Copyright 2008 Daniel Van Werkhoven |
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