Constant hot winds scorch his back.
Through his headphones, he can hear sand skittering over himself and the dusty ground around him.
He cares not. He is focused. He is precise.
He lays prone on the dry desert ground, numbing himself to the pain of the burning earth below him. He has been in these kinds of situations before. Hundreds of times. Freezing cold, soaking wet, muddy or icy or grassy or dusty. He can numb himself. Numb. So numb.
He can hear breathing to his left and his right. He casts a quick glance to both sides, eyeing the redheaded woman and bearded Canadian respectively. His teammates do not look back; they do not need to. They trust him. And he trusts himself.
Many have called him names. Despite the secrecy of his organization, his code name has gone out before him. Many have cursed him. Commie bastard. Coward. Yellow-bellied snake.Kusok der'ma.
He can only laugh.
He gives a soft, emotionless sigh. He hears crackling in his headphones; a woman speaks firmly.
"Now."
He lifts his rifle painted in a desert camouflage, flicks the scope upward, and holds it to his right eye. Immediately, faint splashes of black and even darker black light up as a vibrant yellow and orange against a dull gray background. Men peering through windows, unseeing. Men standing ready at doors and behind pillars, unprepared.
He's been lying there for hours. His teammates are slowly creeping in below him. They are ready. He is ready.
He closes his left eye and lines the sights up to the head of one of the unsuspecting terrorists.
He breathes a low breath. Numb.
He squeezes the trigger.
The suppressor muffles the normally ear-piercingly loud bang that follows the bullet firing from the sniper rifle's muzzle. The White Mask recruit jerks and then falls, the ground sprayed a viciously bright red beneath his shattered skull. His comrades immediately rush over, shouting indistinctly to each other to alert those who are unaware of what just happened. But already rapid gunfire is screaming out, and the rest of his crew is rushing forward. And he is still so, so numb. So numb.
He breathes another breath. The bearded Canadian next to him smiles. The redheaded woman grins and turns to him.
"Nice shot, Glaz."
The Russian sniper sighs and shifts a bit from where he lays. He smiles behind his own desert mask.
"Spasibo, comrade."
Woooooo, I wrote Rainbow Six Siege stuff, yeeeeeeeeeeee
Anyway, this is literally just gonna be a collection of a bunch of one-shots from the operators. Not sure how long it'll be, but I guess we'll see. So this first one is clearly about Glaz, because he's just freaking awesome, man. Don't know who'll be next - probably Ash or Buck or something.
Rainbow Six Siege (c) Ubisoft