R is for Reconnaissance Man
Rating: K+
Disclaimers: Don't own any of them; they are the product of minds far more brilliant than mine.
Author's Warning: Um, Duck?
A quick reconnaissance of the area had found him the perfect ambush site.
Half an hour later, the Sniper eyed the FBI team that had followed him with unmitigated glee. He knew this team had been trained by the best, so getting the drop on them was definitely a feather in his cap.
Five to one were not good odds. The sniper smirked. They'd need at least three more people on their team to make this a fair fight.
His smirk widened. Well, they'd just have to do with less. The question was which one should he take down first?
All of the agents were good shots. The FBI required a certain amount of proficiency with guns and this group had all surpassed the minimum. He started weighing other factors.
Ladies first clearly did not apply in this situation, even though Agent Reeves could probably take him on.
Oh, who was he kidding? Reeves could kick his butt around the room with ease, if he was stupid enough to let her get close. At this distance though, she wasn't an immediate threat.
He then turned his scope to the male members of the team. Sinclair and Granger were both capable agents. They both had experience in the Middle East. However, they were followers rather than leaders.
Speaking of leaders… The sniper eyed Eppes… Agent Eppes, he amended. Agent Eppes thought fast on his feet and was good at inspiring his team. Under ordinary circumstances, the Sniper would have targeted him first, just for the disruption factor.
But today… The Sniper's gaze fell on the other Eppes on the team… Professor Charles Eppes.
While the other team members were scouring the countryside, looking for some sight of their quarry, the Professor was focused on his clipboard.
Dark eyes narrowed. The Sniper understood the FBI agents. They all trained from the same book. The mathematician, however, wrote his own book and the Sniper didn't understand him at all.
Come to a point, he doubted that more than a handful of people really understood how Professor Eppes' mind worked. All he knew for sure was that Professor Eppes had an annoying tendency to take 1 and 1, stick them into some esoteric formula and come up with the Sniper's exact latitude and longitude.
The Sniper had no intention of allowing the Professor to spoil his game. So he swung his rifle around and squinted down the scope. When cross-hairs lined up squarely between the Professor's shoulder blades, he pulled the trigger.
Yes! A hit! The Sniper knew he'd bagged his man even before his target went down with a large dark stain growing on his back.
"Charlie!" Don's voice was alarmed.
The Sniper moved out from the trees a bit to get a better look.
Professor Eppes was sprawled in the dirt, unmoving. A trickle of blood ran from his mouth.
Reeves whipped out a whistle and blew an agreed upon signal.
The Sniper moved farther from the trees. "You okay there, Professor?" he shouted.
Professor Eppes pushed himself up from the ground, spitting out dirt, and dabbing at his cut lip. He looked at the Sniper. "Yeah, just tripped is all," he said.
"S'matter, Genius?" Agent Eppes asked mockingly. "Us big kids play to rough for you?"
The Professor shot his brother a dirty look.
"Refresh my memory, Bro'," Professor Eppes said. "Which 'genius' thought it would be a good idea to play paintball against Edgerton?"
Ian Edgerton grinned as he faded into the woods to reconnoiter another ambush site. Damn, he loved his job.