My Youtube Scenes

Head Of The Royal Guard (Wildcat)

Tyler's p.o.v:
Never did I ever think I would live to see the end of war, the victory of the the victimized, the ultimate triumph over evil. Especially with the scar I'd gotten over my right eye in battle which prohibited me from seeing out of that side. I suppose I can't really say I've seen the end of 'war' yet though, just the coming of a time of slight peace. The constant fighting between King Richard and the Rebels is over at least, being minimized to nothing but street skirmishes and maybe a knife fight every now and then.
I think of what my friends and I went through to get here. Evan was weighed down with the responsibility of leading the Rebels, I organized troops, Brock and Craig devised plans, and John- who calls himself Delirious again because apparently he's diagnosed with insanity and is Evan's personal assassin- was a spy in order to gather information about the enemy. Finally, after a battle that caused us to loose many followers, and friends such as Scotty and Brian, Evan managed to kick Richard's royal behind out of the throne and began a time of peace and tranquility. Evan had given me the honor of becoming head of the Royal Guard, and I still serve in that position two years later.
I walk through the gardens tonight, on watch in case any of Richard's street-driven loyalists think they can pull some sort of maneuver on us and try to get the castle back. Out of gaming instinct, as I walk I think, I wonder how many camping noob I can poop on. I mentally slap myself. Things aren't a game anymore Tyler. Going through war, however, also made me a bit paranoid. So every five minutes and aim my gun at where I'd just walked, being used to that feeling of constantly being watched by the enemy. Twenty three years old, and I have the suspicions of a thirteen year old who grew up in the ghetto and got jumped one to many times.
I look up at the moon too, convinced that I'll see choppers loaded with armed guards sent to eliminate my Rebel troops. . .
I shake my head. The Rebel armies are the guard now, and I control them. There were so many times, and even now as a matter of fact, that I begged and pleaded with the universe to let this all be a dream and when I woke up I would go and record game play with my friends and read the comments of how I made someone's day with my shouting and rage and stupidity.

But that life's gone now. I'm a veteran of one of the biggest wars that we'll be read about in history books for generations. I can't go back to the smiling goofball I was three years ago, at the age of twenty one when I was pretty much new to adult life and needing things like a job. Now I make my pay off of eliminating evil scum from this earth, and that's more than any first person shooter game can ever generate. C.O.D can't copy the pain and tears of battle. Black Ops can't simulate the screams of dying Rebel soldiers as machine guns are fired rapidly. Battle Field can't match the emotional breakdowns you experience when you have to bury a fallen friend like I had to do for Scotty and Brian. It's true, I can never be the same person I was, but at least now I can say that I survived myself. I didn't kill myself when Scotty died, I didn't crack under the pressure of sending innocent children into battle against fully grown men. If you can survive that, then the paranoia you experience in the eye of it all is worth more then will ever be imagined. My name is Tyler.
I am the Head the Royal Guard.