The Sniper From Vacuo
It's a funny thing, looking at the world through the scope of a rifle. The way things just happen to find their way into your crosshairs. You can see each individual grain of sand, how it sweeps around the dunes of Vacuo against a dry breeze. You can also count the moles on a man's face three hundred yards away.
With the pull of a trigger, you can very well change the course of history. The moles on a man's face will be long forgotten, compared to the hole in his head. These are the lessons May Zedong learned from a young age, from the moment she was first handed a gun.
A sniper is a marksman, a qualified specialist operating alone or with a unit in order to maintain close visual contact with the enemy as well as engage targets from concealed positions and distances exceeding the detection capabilities of enemy personnel. In other words, you better get comfortable sitting around.
But May is more than familiar with the long stretches of quiet, looking through her scope, watching her prey from afar. It's not always a pack of Grimm she finds herself staring at. Sometimes it's one of those White Fang pricks in the stupid masks and hoods.
May is thankful, however, that they wear masks and hoods. It makes everything all the easier. That's another funny thing you find when you look through the scope long enough. Because you're right there looking at your target for long periods, longer than you'd like to. You're not allowed to take your eye off them.
It becomes routine then, watching them pace back and forth. You notice their limp, no doubt from a broken leg that never quite healed correctly. There's a way about the target, how they carry themselves, how they speak to others, how they speak to themselves in the mirror. Sometimes you can't help but respect the guy, how they command and all turn to listen. But others you can't wait to get the order to pull the trigger. The way they go about talking with their ugly body language.
But May reminds herself that's not right of her. She's a sniper, a specialist who operates from afar. Sometimes she forgets she's supposed to be as far away from the target as possible. There's a way about looking through the scope that's mesmerizing, it's almost as if your there in person looking them in the eye.
A sniper does not make their mission personal. That was something May had drilled into her head almost from day one. The lower academy's she attended would scream it in her face day in and day out. Should you give in to your emotions on the job, you are hence force compromised, sniper. And a compromised sniper is a dead sniper.
So May reals back into her quiet isolation. That is where she is needed, not there out in the heat of battle. She knows her place amongst her team of brash testosterone fueled fist fighters. Her place is high up on ridges, in tress, behind the cover of some brush. She is looking at the enemy from afar waiting for the order to change the outcome of battle.
Thankfully, however, the enemy is not always some zealous terrorist, but rather an inhuman beast. May will not lose sleep over Grimm, not like a man or a woman who should fall into her line of sight. They are beasts who do not know the meaning of love nor the concept of hate.
But she does not hate the Grimm she sees. And that troubles her. These cowardly creatures who slaughter the innocent, she will not shed a tear for nor will she crack a victorious smirk.
When she returns from the border between Vacuo and Vale after her team has cleared a pack of Beowulfs, she will join her teammates for a cheer. But her words are empty, for she is just an effective sniper doing what is required of her. It is from a distance where a sniper is lethal. And you can't be more distant from Grimm if you tried.
Back to her dorm or to the range, May will always be counting her shots. With her beanie tilted over one eye, she simulates the perspective of the scope. She looks at the world from the vision afforded to only the most lethal the world of Remnant know.
A sniper is distant. A sniper is effective in the field. A compromised sniper is a dead sniper. So May is silent, ever watching through her scope. She can work with a unit. But she'd rather be alone. Up on dunes, letting the sand wash over and bury her. Perched in trees piercing through branches with her thousand mile long stare.
But May is no machine, nor is she the end all be all sniper the world of Remnant has ever seen. Should she become compromised, should she jump the gun having allowed things to become personal, know that she is well prepared. Her rifle turns into axe.
I had this idea about writing a May centered story for quite sometime. But I've got my hands full writing The Darkling Thrush, so this is the best I can do with the time allowed. Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!