Hey guys, sorry about the slow updates, but my computer died and I just now got it workin. I'll try and update more often for ya.
One month later, somewhere in South America:
38's pov:
Finally, we get to make a real kill, no more training. No more killing people who are locked in a metal room as part of an obstacle course.
Course, it would be better if we knew where the fuck we are. 37 and myself woke up in the back of a C-130 cargo plane, tied together wearing parachutes and khakis, clothing I knew as basic jungle fatigues. 37, or Nova as our handler dubbed him (more for his hot-head personality than anything.), immediately started panicking, some crap about 'If we were meant to fly, we would have fuckin' wings.'
Our handler, a 'green' lieutenant, walked over and dropped a dossier on the floor in front of us. I flipped it open as Nova leaned over to read as well.
Name: Target 001.
Location: Highly Classified.
(Insert useless facts here)
Reason for Termination: Head of largest drug production and distribution Empire in the world.
That's all I needed to know. Making sure Nova had seen the picture; I simply slipped it into my cargo pants.
"Gear?" I liked to keep speaking as simple as possible around these people. They had emotions, and did not have my capacity to understand logic. Nova on the other hand, I didn't mind, though he still had emotion. He wasn't as irritation, though, when I was focused, I didn't talk much to him either.
"We got some, don't worry. This way." He led us the short distance to the locked equipment cabinets.
He gestured towards one and I popped it open, taking a moment to survey what they had given us: a map, C-rations, enough to last four days if stretched, a machete, flint and tinder, and plenty of other survival supplies. The only 'weapon' was a Remington 700 .30-06 bolt-action rifle with a custom sniper scope, bipod and sound/flash suppressor, plus a rangefinder to go with it. If I had the ability, I probably would have laughed when I noticed there were only 5 bullets, how nice of them. I eyed the lack of weapons…
"Guess you don't think we'll run into trouble?"
He laughed, "No, we think you might, but we figured with your… talents, you wouldn't need them."
Nova laughed, "Probably not, but they help, more for intimidation than anything."
I groaned, "How much longer 'till the drop?"
He the lieutenant glanced at his wristwatch, a cheap, plastic Timex, "About five minutes. Grab the gear and get ready."
It took two and a half minutes to divide and pack everything. It was decided that I would carry and utilize our single long arm, since I was the more adequate marksman. After reviewing the map and talking over various tactics with Nova, the pilot announced we were getting close to the DZ. The ropes holding Nova and I together were cut and we lined up for the jump.
"You ready?" It was our handler, concern in his voice.
I looked him in the eyes, venom dripping from my words, "Sir, I LIVE for this shit."
With that I jumped from the plane.
Skydiving isn't as exhilarating as people would think. Sure you have the whole weightless feeling, and the fact that you're falling at 200mph, but it isn't as entertaining as watching someone who is scared to death from it, though I have yet to see someone fall dead from fear alone…
We were on the ground and getting our bearings in a mere three minutes from leaving the plane. Nova had a slightly rough landing and bruised his shin on a small tree. Lucky for him, said tree was still flexible.
We began the slow and tedious, three-day hike that would take us to the 'secret' drug making facility. Privately I was wondering, since they already knew where the damned place was, why they didn't just bomb them back to the Stone Age and be done with it all. But then I wouldn't be here, actually in the field with a rifle strapped to my back, ready to actually make a real kill.
We walked in relative silence. I didn't really care to talk since my… enhancement. I don't remember what I was like before, and I don't care to. The 38 that existed before me was weak and timid, or so I was told. Now I was a relentless, bloodthirsty killer… and that's the way I prefer it.
We walked all day, and set camp at night, not bothering to start a fire, knowing Nova could stay warm in a fucking blizzard, and 'warm' was a luxury I could live without. Our 'camp' was more like just moving some rocks and sticks out of the way and sleeping for the night.
We woke at 0430 sharp, and were moving in less than five minutes. We carried on in this manner for the following two days until we reached the facility.
The facility was NOT what I was expecting. I was thinking more like some huts with chemicals to make cocaine and other drugs. No, this was like a huge military base, complete with a security force that would rival an army.
We knew, from one of the useless dossier facts, that our target was obsessed with his product, and constantly checked on it, once in the morning and once in the evening. I glanced at my watch, an even cheaper one than my handler's, but what can you do about it? Anyways, I noted that it was almost time for him to show his face. Perfect.
I untied the Remington from my backpack. I then opened the pack and rummaged around to find the laser rangefinder. I quickly lazed a few spots in the compound and found an average of 427.3 meters. I made a quick calculation and adjusted the scope accordingly for an easier shot.
I then fitted the bipod and the rather large suppressor, taking my time so nothing was off. Couldn't have anything screwing with my shot, now could we? Finally I reached into a pocket on my pack and removed a single bullet. I worked to bolt back and opened the firing chamber, inserted the round, and slid the bolt closed and down, locking it into place. One was all I would need.
I got into a prone position, and took up the rifle, making sure both the bipod and my shoulder supported its weight. My final precaution was to make sure that I was resting my weight on only the bone of my elbows. At the range I was shooting, even my pulse could cause a miss, and a failed mission.
Finally I was ready. I waited for another ten minutes before the door to the main complex opened, revealing the Target. I smirked when I saw him, wearing a suit. Everyone else was wearing shorts and t-shirts, things to make working easier. Well, he would be saving the funeral home people some work, not having to dress him up or whatnot.
Time seemed to slow as I fingered the safety. Nova, who was looking through some field binoculars, went completely still, trying to make as little noise as possible.
Nothing existed in this word except me, the Target and the black cross on his chest only I could see, the one that marked his end.
Breathe in…
One, two, three…
A finger curled around the trigger…
Exhale…
one, two, three...
Finger slowly squeezes the trigger…
I know a rheumatic cough sounded, but I couldn't hear it, I was too focused on making sure that one round did its job.
I watched as he was hit in the chest, one perfect shot through his heart. At first he just had a confused expression, then he looked down at the wound, blood actually gushing out, and seemed shocked to see he was bleeding. He even put a hand to the hole and pulled it away, as if to see if the blood was real, or a part of his twisted imagination. Finally, he slumped to the ground. Target neutralized, absolutely no possibility of survival.
The entire process took merely three seconds, but seemed like eternity. Took a whole twenty seconds before the security force realized what had just happened and to start combing the grounds for the sniper, by which time Nova and me were already sprinting in the direction of the evacuation point.
It was our first successful mission, and, hopefully, one of many more to come.
Send me ideas with a review if you would.
