Ishmael

I squeeze the controller. My palms sweating. I grit my teeth together. Narrowing my eyes at the television. Guns blazing. Adrenaline.

At home, I become engrossed in the narrative. Sera’s salvation. Liberating humanity from the Locust scourge. My father, my comrade. Brother in arms. Gears. Together, we became these burly men. Their scars our own. Their fatigue a burning sensation in our muscles. Their icy glare seared in our minds. But, at school I was left to survive by myself.

I could no longer dedicate hours to the digital world. Rather, I killed free time. Between classes, going to basketball practice, late night library sessions. A few rounds of team death match. Sharpening my skills. Self-challenge. Get the most head-shots, chainsaw executions, kills. Without dying.

Focusing the crosshair on the alien’s head, I squeeze the trigger. The sniper rifle. My favorite. A weapon that takes extraordinary skill and finesse. Long range killer.

Total domination. Skilled shooter.

Medium: India Ink and Bristol Board (4 ft x 2 ft).

(The wall comic was adapted from the original excerpt featured above, so it does not exactly match.)

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