One that sends body parts flying in a ball of flame. Only instead of connecting with meat and bone, this one falls slightly short of its mark, entirely by accident, and hits a live grenade attached to his belt. The bullet spins through the air, hanging just for a second in the light, before it erupts through my target's eyeball in slow-motion and sprays blood, brains, and shattered cranium out the backside of his head - all in gruesome X-Ray vision that provides a sickly intimate view of the grisly noggin slurry as it makes its grand exit.īy the time my victim's body crumples to the ground and his comrade draws his gun, another bullet rockets out of my chamber. Taking aim at a pair of Nazis chatting amidst the din of distant gunfire, I hold my breath, line-up my shot, and pull the trigger.
Perched atop the bombed out husk of a building, I scan the razor wire fence line and nearby rubble far below for movement through the scope of my M1903 Springfield.
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