The Wind's Wrath
Foreword
Sorry, I Didn't Have Enough Time To Write A Fan Fiction This Weekend. I Did, However, Write A Story A Couple Weeks Ago For A Creative Writing Contest With An Upper Limit Of 500 Words. I Figured It Could Double As A Far Cry 3 Fan Fiction. This Fiction Is Very, Very Short. It Also Has No Smut! That's About All. I Probably Will Have Enough Time To Write A Smutfic Next Weekend. Fun Fact: This Originally Started Off As A Crysis Fan Fiction. Sadly, I Realized That A Professional Publishing Company Probably Can't Put Out Copyrighted Material.
The ship sets down in a clearing more than 800 meters away from the mission site. I take a perfunctory glance around the area as I signal the pilot. Sleek stealth jet with cool engines, the drop ship's downward jets whir quietly as it ascends. It only gets a dozen meters off the ground before I can't hear the sound anymore without straining.
I silently glide through the underbrush without leaving a mark. Taking the high ground above the outpost, I flatten against the foliage. A distinct dirt cliff is between me and the chattering voices of guards. I assemble my rifle, planting the swiveling mounts firmly in the ground. There isn't enough manpower in the outpost to assure that guards walk in pairs. Even so, success sometimes demands an unconventional approach.
Four guards are standing by the entrance to the base, motionless. The bunker door is entrenched in rock. I track the four of them through my scope for a few minutes, hovering over each of their heads for a split second. It'll have to do. I squeeze off the first round, dropping the far left soldier. His buddy, having stood next to him for hours and expecting to for hours more, doesn't act on this. I drop him just as quickly. The other guards see the soldiers diagonally to them drop out of the corner of their eye. They both brandish their large firearms, expecting to go commando on the enemy with their two comrades. I drop the one closest to the alarm before he has the sense to signal for backup. The other one dies just as he's registering he's alone. Smooth, clean. The mobile guards will be easier to take out, if demanding more specialized movement. I disassemble my rifle.
I creep across the rusty rooftop of a steel supplies shack as an unsuspecting guard turns the corner of the shed on his rounds. I drop off the roof, burying my knife in his skull. A soldier here, a mercenary there, I drag each of their bodies to isolated parts of their own routes. At last, there are only 4 guards left, two at each entrance. I unholster my silenced pistol for the first time. These soldiers will be awake and wary. At a distance of only a few meters, I drop each of the guards quickly.
I stand up amidst the silent destruction as radio static crackles in my ear. The drop ship that had until now been monitoring my progress in the sky descends to the center of the camp. The gunner takes my hand and hauls me into the ship. We slowly ascend, as if to give me a view of the death and misery I've caused. I feel a pang of regret for a moment. Maybe that's a good thing. It reminds me that I'm still human. Then the pause is gone and the ship heads due East, towards our next objective.