The Gentle Sniper

Chapter 1: Loss

…

Two men stood in front of a large floor to ceiling window. The sky was grey and neither could see much of the snowy mountain slopes that the building they were in was built on, despite the fact that they both were on the ground floor of the building. The room they were in featured a set of double doors on the far side, past two sections of wall with a gap in the middle.

One of them had a broad muscular frame and an AR-15 rifle in his arms, while the other was lean and had a sniper rifle - the british madeAW50, with a winter camo paint scheme in use -slung across his back, as well as a MP7 holstered to his left thigh. Both wore white boots, combat trousers and tactical winter jackets of the same colour, complete with a fur-lined hood, as well as a white scarf and body armour underneath.

For headwear, the pair wore black ski goggles, with an earpiece equipped underneath the balaclavas they both wore. Lastly, the lean man had a satchel on.

"What a great foggy morning this is, eh Fury?" The broad man asked his teammate.

"Welcome to south Berk, Alpha Trapper. This is some of our best weather. You should see when a blizzard forms or it rains down hail." The lean man replied.

"I'm sure I'd be fine. I'd bring my umbrella for that. Are you ready to start the clock on that charge yet?"

Fury gave a sheepish smile as he produced the bomb from the confines of the satchel he had on, setting the device and satchel down. "…Now I am. We should go find the target first though."

"Acknowledged, Fury. Sal, how's it looking?"

"Obviously no clear visuals outside and I think my radar setup is going haywire so I can't get a read on your motion trackers. Shouldn't be a problem however, as there is currently no sign of any tangos on thermals, over."

"Copy that, Sal. Guess we're blind on our end. Shall I start the clock, Alpha Trapper?"

Slam!

Fury and Alpha Trapper spun around to find the double doors behind them had been shoved open and two men were standing there with P90's. They each dove towards the sections of wall that stood between them and the doors as the men raised their submachine guns and opened fire.

Fury peeked out and aimed his PDW - the MP7 - to return fire, but had to duck back into cover as one of his opponents opened fire before he could get a shot off.

Then he heard a brief burst of gunfire suddenly erupt, followed by a pained grunt that came from his right. Looking over, he saw his companion had gone down. He was laying on his back behind a bullet hole ridden wall section, coat rapidly turning red from blood with both hands and his AR-15 hanging limply by his sides.

Cursing under his breath, Hiccup peeked out again to return fire. As soon as both men went down for good, Hiccup strode over to his companion. As he approached, he watched the man start to convulse and cough up blood.

"Thor damn it," muttered Fury as he reached the man and proceeded to crouch beside him. He then inspected him, finding his companion had been shot in the chest, where his lungs would be.

"H-H-Hi-" he garbled, his mouth bloody.

"No, don't speak, please. It won't help you."

His companion shook his head before pointing to the door behind Fury as best he could, with Fury following his slow moving finger. "…Yeah. If he's here, I'll make him pay. You just rest easy now."

But his words went unheard, as his friend went limp in that moment, likely due to the effort of pointing while his lungs filled up with blood.

Fury took the time to close his friend's eyes before holstering his MP7 and getting up.

Crossing the room, he scooped up the bomb and put it back inside the satchel. Now standing with the leather bag slung over his right shoulder and positioned out in front of him, he headed for the door without looking back.

…

"Sal, this is Fury. Alpha Trapper is KIA," Fury was now in a room on the floor above where his partner lay. It was an office, complete with an oak desk and chair with a floor to ceiling glass window behind it.

Behind the oak desk on the far side of the room, another man was crouched, with the two inert bodies of his associates bleeding out as they lay on either side of the piece of furniture in question.

He peeked out, in an attempt to aim at Fury, but wasn't quick enough, as Fury fired his MP7, anticipating the move, resulting in a headshot that sent blood, brain and everything else spraying over the desk.

"Roger that. I take it that was you exacting vengeance just now. Where was Alpha Trapper shot?"

"You'd be right in that assumption. He was shot in the chest, in the lungs, for long enough that his body armour wore thin. I ensured that most if not all tangos present are dead and the office on the floor above bears no sign of the target. I need to move out on my own, over."

"Roger that. Do you require guidance to get out?"

"Negative. I have my own way out. But I request that you buy a bouquet of black tulips for Heather."

"Roger that Fury. Go with the gods."

"Don't you know? The gods hate me, Sal."

"Acknowledged, Fury. Sal out."

Fury glanced at the timer on the bomb as he took it out of his satchel.

One minute. Plenty of time to jump. It's a good thing the General's office isn't on the top floor,thought Fury.

Fury fired at the single large window beyond the desk with his mp7 before holstering it. Then Fury ran towards it and burst through, bending his knees and rolling after landing safely in the deep snow below.

Getting up, Fury observed the slopes that stretched out beyond him.

He wouldn't see the bottom - where his extraction point was - on a day with clear skies, but the fog didn't help at all.

It's going to be a long walk,thought Fury.

He then started jogging, mindful of the explosion that was due shortly but aware that running and tripping, as a result, would do him no favours.

"Keep the car running, Sal. I'm on my way now."

"Roger that," the response came around thirty seconds before the second floor of the building behind him exploded.

"Mission accomplished," Fury muttered dryly, glancing back at the structure before continuing on his way.

…

Now back at base, Captain Haddock was drumming his fingers on the mahogany table in front of him as he waited to be debriefed.

The debriefing room featured white tiles on the floor; polished, with light from the ceiling reflecting off of it, resulting in a high sheen, the aforementioned table that was surrounded by eight chairs, one full and seven empty, with blue walls and a ceiling of the same colour.

Eventually, some minutes later, the door opened and the man of the hour strode inside, limping ever so slightly before pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him. The waft of coffee filled the room as it emanated from the mug carried in the prosthetic hand of the man before him. A whirring was heard after he set the mug down and the hand opened up, no longer needing to grip the porcelain object.

"So another man down and no sign of General Hofferson anywhere. Is that correct, Captain Haddock?" asked Major Belch. He laid the metal hand and leaned forward in his chair, studying his unofficial nephew intently.

"Yup. Excellent summary there sir," quipped Hiccup.

"Don't sass me, laddie. You're a man down and so you'll be needing another partner."

"Sir, ever since my team was asked to capture or kill Finn Hofferson, each of my partners have died. With all due respect, I never want another partner. At the very least until Hofferson is behind bars or in Valhalla."

"Now I'd agree with you under normal circumstances, but it's an order from the General himself."

"The Grimborns, or Stoick, sir?"

"Stoick."

"Stubborn as ever, great."

"Your father is stubborn, but not that bad, laddie."

"If you must join the army, then I ensure that you always have a partner. I'm not going to let you get hurt," Hiccup said dryly, imitating his father with near perfection.

Gobber stared blankly at him. "That doesn't sound that bad, laddie."

"He's never said those words in his life though. He prefers to use disappointed scowls."

His superior nodded. "Point taken, but give it some thought. It might not be so bad."

Hiccup looked up, scrutinizing the two limbed man before him for several seconds. "You've already chosen my partner, haven't you?"

He paused. "Well…"

"Alright, who is it sir?"

"Lieutenant Jorgenson."

"Snotlout? Seriously?! Sir, he won't listen to me and he'll get himself killed. His ego is taller than most skyscrapers."

"Again, not an order from me. Good luck laddie." The man picked up his mug and shuffled towards the door.

"Where's Snotlout?"

"In the mess hall, where else?" came Gobber's reply. He then opened the door. "I'll find Lieutenant Ingerman for your ritual. I saw him walking around with some black tulips earlier." Then the Major was gone, leaving Hiccup with his thoughts.

Snotlout. Wonderful,thought Hiccup before his head met the table in front of him and he groaned loudly.