this is my rifle

"Onassis!" i yelped.  The oaf stared at me, wheezed and spit up blood, and collapsed.  "Gun!  Onassis!"

"Private Onassis is dead," said the neutrally toned voice of my APAIF-3.  "He was shot by bogey number 3, who has accounted for 7 of your 26 losses, including the sergeant."

"Dammit!"  I crawled to Onassis's body and looked for ammo. I found only the two bullets left in his gun's magazine.  I loaded them into my rifle's empty chamber.  "Gun, who's left?"

"There are no friendlies remaining other than yourself.  Bogeys 3, 7, and 8 are still at large."

"Where?"

"Unknown.  They are interfering with my infrared and sonic frequencies.  Extrapolation based on the last shots fired: 3 last shot 37 seconds ago from 310 meters away, heading 299°, elevation 15 meters; 7 last shot 511 seconds ago from 287 me—"

"Skip it."  I gritted my teeth.  "I'm going to try to draw their fire.  Any luck getting through to the Lieut?"

"Negative.  Communications are still down."

"All right, you bastards," i muttered, "if my gun can't find you, and i can't call for help, you guys are probably in the same boat."  I slung the rifle over my shoulder, put Onassis over my shoulder, stood up and started running towards the closest rocks to the northeast.  As i was about to reach them, a shot rang out and i felt a bullet bury itself in Onassis's body.  I dropped to the ground, rolled away from the corpse, came up kneeling and unslung my gun.  "Where, gun?" i whispered.

"236, 28," it tersely replied.  I aimed the rifle to the southwest and up at the top of the cliff.  The scope adjusted and started scanning.  I felt around for a fist-sized rock and threw it.  I didn't get another shot in response, but the scope caught enough movement to focus on the target.  I squeezed the trigger.

"Bogey 8 has been neutralized."

"About motherfucking time."  Another shot rang out and i was rewarded with a cloud of pulverized rock in my eyes.  "Gun!" i screamed as i tried to not move the rifle, "Autoshot!"  I felt the barrel of the rifle contort slightly, and the gun fired on its own initiative.  I prayed for a split second that the gun's limited abilities to aim and shoot itself were enough to take down the peckerhead who just shot at me from what seemed to be very close to 8.  My prayer was answered by my gun.  "Bogey 7 has been neutralized.  Ammunition is exhausted."

"Fan-fucking-tastic."  Of course, the most difficult one i left for last.  I moved away from the rocks to pick Onassis up again when i felt something hit my mouth.  I heard someone speak.  I tried to talk back, but something was pushing against my mouth.  After a few seconds, some of the cobwebs cleared and i realized i was face-down on the ground.  I considered playing dead when my gun said, "Private Xerez, shall i repeat?"

I moved my mouth just enough so i could reply, "Yes."  The pain was outstanding.

"Bogey 3 shot you.  Bogey 3's rifle has malfunctioned."

I didn't bother asking it how it knew.  "Nguh."  I rolled over, sat up, and reached to pick up my gun.  "My condition."

"You were shot cleanly through the jaw.  The bone was nicked but not broken.  The bullet destroyed your right upper canine upon entry."

"Fuckin' hurts."  I hugged the gun and giggled.  "Alas, gun, my end is nigh.  Remember the good times, gun?  The impossible shots, the splattered brains, raining hot death on the unworthy?"

"My memory does not extend beyond a certain number of events.  At the moment, the extent of my recall is 117 minutes."

I chuckled wheezily.  "I asked you that before, you know."  I groaned.  "Feelin' dziz, dzizzy."

"You are losing blood and you are probably going into shock."

"So fuckn sh, cheerful."  I shook my head, then stopped because it hurt.  "Gun, record my final words.  Begin recording: I'm sorry, Mom.  Love ya oodles.  I'm sorry, Sarge. I'm sorry, Lieut.  Good luck.  End recording."

"Message cartridge ready and loaded.  Aim 150, 45 to get it as close to base as possible.  Beacon will activate upon firing."

I stood up wobblily and turned towards what i hoped was southeast.  I tilted my rifle upwards and was about to pull the trigger when i heard a noise to my left.  My arms swung me around and my finger spasmed and my mouth let out a squealing sort of yell.

"Bogey 3 has been neutralized."

"The fuck you say!"  But i saw the body sprawled in front of me, blade in hand, clearly intent on finishing the job.  There was blood on its face, and it came from its eye, where my message cartridge had entered and penetrated its brain.  Lucky shot.  I started laughing convulsively and fell to my knees.

"Killed `im, gun!  I killed him with my words!"  And the laughter kept coming, madly, hysterically.

"Cartridge beacon broadcasting.  All hostiles have been neutralized.  Shutting down."

this is my rifle

"Onassis!" i yelped.  The oaf stared at me, wheezed and spit up blood, and collapsed.  "Gun!  Onassis!"

"Private Onassis is dead," said the neutrally toned voice of my APAIF-3.  "He was shot by bogey number 3, who has accounted for 7 of your 26 losses, including the sergeant."

"Dammit!"  I crawled to Onassis's body and looked for ammo. I found only the two bullets left in his gun's magazine.  I loaded them into my rifle's empty chamber.  "Gun, who's left?"

"There are no friendlies remaining other than yourself.  Bogeys 3, 7, and 8 are still at large."

"Where?"

"Unknown.  They are interfering with my infrared and sonic frequencies.  Extrapolation based on the last shots fired: 3 last shot 37 seconds ago from 310 meters away, heading 299°, elevation 15 meters; 7 last shot 511 seconds ago from 287 me—"

"Skip it."  I gritted my teeth.  "I'm going to try to draw their fire.  Any luck getting through to the Lieut?"

"Negative.  Communications are still down."

"All right, you bastards," i muttered, "if my gun can't find you, and i can't call for help, you guys are probably in the same boat."  I slung the rifle over my shoulder, put Onassis over my shoulder, stood up and started running towards the closest rocks to the northeast.  As i was about to reach them, a shot rang out and i felt a bullet bury itself in Onassis's body.  I dropped to the ground, rolled away from the corpse, came up kneeling and unslung my gun.  "Where, gun?" i whispered.

"236, 28," it tersely replied.  I aimed the rifle to the southwest and up at the top of the cliff.  The scope adjusted and started scanning.  I felt around for a fist-sized rock and threw it.  I didn't get another shot in response, but the scope caught enough movement to focus on the target.  I squeezed the trigger.

"Bogey 8 has been neutralized."

"About motherfucking time."  Another shot rang out and i was rewarded with a cloud of pulverized rock in my eyes.  "Gun!" i screamed as i tried to not move the rifle, "Autoshot!"  I felt the barrel of the rifle contort slightly, and the gun fired on its own initiative.  I prayed for a split second that the gun's limited abilities to aim and shoot itself were enough to take down the peckerhead who just shot at me from what seemed to be very close to 8.  My prayer was answered by my gun.  "Bogey 7 has been neutralized.  Ammunition is exhausted."

"Fan-fucking-tastic."  Of course, the most difficult one i left for last.  I moved away from the rocks to pick Onassis up again when i felt something hit my mouth.  I heard someone speak.  I tried to talk back, but something was pushing against my mouth.  After a few seconds, some of the cobwebs cleared and i realized i was face-down on the ground.  I considered playing dead when my gun said, "Private Xerez, shall i repeat?"

I moved my mouth just enough so i could reply, "Yes."  The pain was outstanding.

"Bogey 3 shot you.  Bogey 3's rifle has malfunctioned."

I didn't bother asking it how it knew.  "Nguh."  I rolled over, sat up, and reached to pick up my gun.  "My condition."

"You were shot cleanly through the jaw.  The bone was nicked but not broken.  The bullet destroyed your right upper canine upon entry."

"Fuckin' hurts."  I hugged the gun and giggled.  "Alas, gun, my end is nigh.  Remember the good times, gun?  The impossible shots, the splattered brains, raining hot death on the unworthy?"

"My memory does not extend beyond a certain number of events.  At the moment, the extent of my recall is 117 minutes."

I chuckled wheezily.  "I asked you that before, you know."  I groaned.  "Feelin' dziz, dzizzy."

"You are losing blood and you are probably going into shock."

"So fuckn sh, cheerful."  I shook my head, then stopped because it hurt.  "Gun, record my final words.  Begin recording: I'm sorry, Mom.  Love ya oodles.  I'm sorry, Sarge. I'm sorry, Lieut.  Good luck.  End recording."

"Message cartridge ready and loaded.  Aim 150, 45 to get it as close to base as possible.  Beacon will activate upon firing."

I stood up wobblily and turned towards what i hoped was southeast.  I tilted my rifle upwards and was about to pull the trigger when i heard a noise to my left.  My arms swung me around and my finger spasmed and my mouth let out a squealing sort of yell.

"Bogey 3 has been neutralized."

"The fuck you say!"  But i saw the body sprawled in front of me, blade in hand, clearly intent on finishing the job.  There was blood on its face, and it came from its eye, where my message cartridge had entered and penetrated its brain.  Lucky shot.  I started laughing convulsively and fell to my knees.

"Killed `im, gun!  I killed him with my words!"  And the laughter kept coming, madly, hysterically.

"Cartridge beacon broadcasting.  All hostiles have been neutralized.  Shutting down."