Prey
by: irthos
"No!"
With that final agonized word of denial the blue-eyed blonde female fell, tumbling to the leaf strewn forest floor, red oozed from between her shoulder blades. One of her strangely armored pursuers came up beside his fallen victim and fired his weapon once more for good measure.
When his three comrades strode up beside him he spoke, "Only O'Neill remains. Find him and eliminate him." The others nodded.
The four combatants checked and reloaded their equally as strange weapons, then split up in search of their prey.
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A few minutes later a lone figure slid silently out of the trees. He looked upon his fallen teammate, a look of regret and sadness. There was nothing he could do, not now.
Dead.
They were all dead.
His fault. He should have never ordered them to split up, in hopes their enemy would do the same, allowing for an easier escape. He should have looked after them. He was team leader, it was his responsibility to look after them. He had failed.
Now he was alone.
He slowly shook his head, enough of these recriminations, there would be time enough for that later…one way or another.
The distant sound of a twig snapping brought a new look into O'Neill's brown eyes, one of feral determination. There was one thing he could do. He would get each and every one of them. They had taken out his entire team. It was only fair he return the favor.
He moved back into the trees as noiselessly as he approached and started toward the distant sound of his first target.
He was going back to a place he hadn't gone in quite a while…a quiet place…a place that allowed him to do what needed done…a place where anything he did would be kept in a small black box and hidden away, never to be thought of again. Along with those many, many boxes was a soothing white, almost static, noise where his conscience usually resided. The static kept his mind focused on the task before him, not allowing anything to distract him. Right now, that task was searching for him as he was stalking them.
The predators had now become the prey.
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The first was easy to find, almost disappointingly so. He walked disregarding twigs, leaves, or brush that might be in his path. He just stepped on, over, or plowed through anything in his way, with no thought to the noise produced. He wasn't even trying to keep quiet.
O'Neill stealthily pursued his unwary victim.
The warrior didn't even keep his weapon at the ready. It was slung carelessly from his shoulder. In his opinion, the man was just asking to be put down.
The least O'Neill could do was comply with the unconscious request.
His target paused to rest on a boulder for a drink from his canteen. As the man started to raise his helmet for a sip, O'Neill simply stepped out from behind a nearby tree and nailed him right in the chest.
His enemy never knew what hit him.
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The second proved to be more difficult. The trail disappeared into a stone quarry. No obvious signs of where it picked up again. But O'Neill had learned a few things from a certain Jaffa friend of his and was able to follow the faint signs of passage to the other side where he continued onward. Five minutes later he found his prey facing the opposite direction in a sniping position on the pass below. He obviously expected O'Neill to trek through the pass, but why? Then O'Neill spied movement from the pass. Ahh, now he understood.
A trap.
Well sorry, that wasn't gonna happen, not today. He crept behind the sniper and took him out. Dragging him to the side O'Neill took up the sniping position himself and waited for the movement again.
There!
To the left of the stump.
Looking through his scope, O'Neill spied the enemy. She was looking furtively around as if anxious to get moving, tired of playing bait.
I'm sorry, sister, but you're not goin' anywhere.
O'Neill fired a single shot. She fell with a small cry and did not rise again.
Three down, and one to go.
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This one was well skilled but no match for O'Neill, not with his years of Special Ops training and experience.
He had been following his trail now for a good fifteen minutes, never once falling for the false trails laid out to distract him.
Moving cautiously he was able to avoid a trip wire strung across the path. Tricky, but just not tricky enough. When O'Neill was a few yards away he tossed a tree branch on the line triggering the trap, causing projectiles to pepper the nearby trees. He quickly found a hiding place nearby and waited for his final objective to come to him.
The enemy was wary in his approach. Slowly weaving from tree to tree toward where the trip line used to be. Upon discovering a non-animate object had triggered the trap's release he knelt to reset it, placing his weapon on the ground. O'Neill took his opportunity.
Standing directly behind his target he softly stated, "You're dead," before pulling the trigger.
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A loud horn could be heard throughout the trees. The only combatant remaining "alive" lowered his weapon and helped his "recently deceased adversary" to his feet.
"Damn, Jon, did you have to make it a point-blank shot? I'm gonna have one hell of a bruise, thank you very much," the last was said with a grin, while trying to rub the sore spot between his shoulder blades.
"Serves you right for letting your guard down, Derrik," Jon O'Neill told him as he put the small bull-horn back in his vest pocket, "Besides, it's what you deserve for 'killing' my team. They are still pretty green, after all."
By this time all the other "casualties" had converged on their position.
O'Neill looked at his team with a smirk, "I have avenged your 'deaths.' No need to thank me."
"Man!" The sniper, Thomas, commented, "Jon, I didn't hear a thing, then POW! I'm a goner."
"Yeah, where did you learn how to do that," his first victim asked rubbing the blue paint splotch over his heart.
"Well, Simon, my uncle taught me, and if I told you any more, I'd have to kill you."
The group of teenagers used to Jon's wry and sometimes baffling humor, plus his usual joke about his family, laughed and started walking back toward the entrance of the paintball range, chatting about the day's events and the next week's field trip.
The End
A/N : this is my first published, well to be honest, my first finished fic. So tell me what ya think. should I continue or just stop right now?