Chapter 2: Shadow Moses
Right, as usual, I don't own Command & Conquer; Westwood does. Now to the good stuff. James "Shadow" Moses won the vote from the last chapter. So this one's about him.
%%%
let me take the fall
let me take the blame
let me carry you from hell to home again
let me walk for you
when your legs are weak
let me find the words for you when you cant speak
let me be your armor
let me be your armor
let me be your shield
let me take away the pain you feel
let me be the light
to guide you through the darkest night
let me be your armor
~Assemblage 23, "Let me be Your Armour"
%%%
The interior of the squat cinderblock building belied its stature. It contained a room that went about eighty feet into the earth, and was filled with computers and other such high-tech equipment. Guards in red-and-blue uniforms stood at the only entrance, holding assault rifles. The catwalk that went around the top of the room had more guards, similarly equipped. Technicians worked endlessly on the consoles, collecting information on both NOD and GDI forces scattered throughout the world. A man dressed in full uniform stood on a dais in the center of the room, looking out over the controlled chaos. His name was Ezekiel Eldritch, commander of this Crimson Wolf base.
James Moses was waved through the plexiglass doorway, and into the tech center. He wore his red shirt unbuttoned, and a black t-shirt under it. His black combat boots made no sound on the linoleum floor as he walked up to Commander Eldritch.
"I hear your latest exploits were a success, James." The Commander said, without turning.
"The NOD commandoes are a joke, Eldritch, but a job nonetheless. A job I expect to be paid handsomely fore, as usual." Moses said, in a flat voice.
"Ah, straight to the point. I always liked that about you, James. Blunt, but effective."
"You're stalling, old man. Where's my fucking money." Moses spat acidly.
"Ah, yes, the money. Right here." Eldritch fished into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out an envelope. Moses snatched it from his hand, and opened it. Inside was a check addressed to him, from Eldritch, for the sum of four-hundred-thousand dollars.
"Good. I trust you'll contact me if you have further need of my services." Moses turned on his heel and walked towards the door. He almost reached it when Eldritch called his name.
"I already have a job lined up for you, James." The Commander said, stepping down from the dais. "Walk with me." Eldritch started for the door, and Moses followed.
"Is this a NOD or GDI job?" The Sniper asked as they passed a group of guards patrolling the sterile white halls.
"NOD. There's a caravan of weapons and fuel coming through Moscow next week. I want you to be there to harass them from the start. You'll be working with two veteran members of the movement, Sergey Molotov and Michael Reichart. They're both very good at what they do." Eldritch stopped to look out a small window. By now they were above the surface, the hallways carved directly into the face of the mountain
"I see. I'll prep my gear and move out in the morning." Moses replied.
"Excellent. I'll have the guards pass your truck through." Eldritch concluded the meeting by sticking out his hand, which Moses ignored as he walked down the hall to the garage.
-^-^-^-^-^-
The bombed-out and charred buildings of Moscow loomed on either side of a wide, snow-covered avenue. The residents of the city had long-since fled to a safer haven when the NOD troops had moved in. The troops in turn left the city for a more suitable forward operating base, further south. Now all that remained were ghosts and ashes. And the best spots possible for snipers.
Moses had met Molotov and Reichart a few miles west of the city. They had sketched out a quick plan for placing heavy explosive charges along the street, and hidden automated sentry guns in the doorways of some of the buildings. Even if the devices didn't do much damage, they took attention away from the three snipers, who would be lurking on rooftops or in alleyways.
"I figure the best way to go about this is to have two of us on the roofs, and the other will stay on the ground and take shots from there." Molotov had said, laying a map of the city on the hood of Moses' Humvee. The Russian was shorter than Moses or Reichart, standing only five-foot-five, compared to Moses' Six-three and Reicharts imposing six-eight. "Moses, you and Mike should take the roofs, 'cause you got the high-powered stuff on ya. I'll start the ass-kicking at ground level here," he pointed to a place on the map between two large office buildings, "and you two should pick spots further up the route."
"I'm gonna start at this bank here," Moses pointed to another spot. An average sized man, Moses made up a frightening image. He wore well-fitted urban/ arctic camouflage, and had close-cut gray hair which belied his age. His icy-blue eyes seemed to take in everything they saw, and numerous scars crisscrossed his weathered face. He leaned on his heavy-caliber sniper rifle, and had several other smaller weapons attached to his uniform in various places.
Reichart considered the map for a minute, then pointed to a tall office building near Moses' spot, and across the street.
"I will start here." The huge German had a heavily accented voice and a weather-beaten face. He wore a set of black BDU's strung with extra ammunition and grenades. His head was shaved, and smeared with combat cosmetics. His huge Berret light .50 rifle was propped against the truck.
"Alright then, let's get to it." Molotov clapped his hands together and picked up his PSG-1 rifle. The three men climbed into Moses' Humvee, and headed for the abandoned city of Moscow.
-^-^-^-^-
The thunder of heavy treads was audible throughout the city. The first vehicle in the convoy which stretched for miles was a huge mammoth tank. It's thick armor bristled with machineguns and missile launchers. The thick pavement cracked under the stress of the immense vehicle as it made its ponderous way through the city. This was the vehicle that filled the scope of Shadow Moses' .30-.06 caliber rifle. Across the street, he cold see the huge shape of Reichart and his rifle, and he knew that down among the rubble was Molotov, waiting to cause panic and chaos among the ground troops.
Moses slowly moved his scope over the bulk of the tank, locating the precise spot he had trained himself to find. An incredibly small opening near the front for the gunner to see out of should the targeting system fail. Now it would be the death of said gunner. As the tank made its ponderous way through the city, Moses rose to a crouch and followed it, holding in his hand the activator for the fixed turrets and powerful mines scattered over the street. The tank neared the exit to the city about forty-five minutes after it entered, and stopped abruptly as a high-explosive landmine exploded under its left-rear tread. For a moment, it swerved, smashing into a bombed-out building, before the driver brought it to a semi-controlled stop. The first crew member to climb out was propelled off the tank and into the pavement a yard away by the gigantic slug from Reichart's rifle. Moses brought his scope into line, and was immediately rewarded by the sight of the emergency steering slit facing him. He focused on the opening, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked hard against his shoulder, but the bullet flew true. The sound of multiple screams and ricochets marked a bull's-eye. At least five crewmen out of eight would be turned to jelly by the bouncing bullet inside the tight confines of the tank. Before standing t get another spot, Moses pressed the trigger for the huge mine near the mammoth, and it was reduced to scrap.
"Moses, we got troops moving into the area." Molotov's voice crackled over the radio in his ear. Moses heard several loud cracks as the short man began picking away at the column of soldiers from his hiding spot. The telltale sound of the sentry guns chimed in as well, mixing with the shouts and screams of the soldiers.
"Reichart, we got a platoon of medium tanks coming in from the southwest entrance. Deal with them." Moses barked into the transmitter as he hopped over a small gap between two buildings. From his new spot, he could make out a group of five medium tanks which he warned Reichart about. He had to trust the giants ability, as his own weapon wouldn't do a blessed thing against the tanks, which lacked even the small window of the 'Mammoths. One thing he could do was take their attention away from Reichart while he sniped.
"Molotov, how'd it going with the groundies?" He said to the Russian. No response came for a few seconds.
"I got about seven of them, now they got me pinned down behind what I think was a hotel. Some support would be nice." Molotov's voice was a whisper, probably so he wouldn't alert the soldiers of his position.
"Shit." Moses cursed, and hopped back up, praying that his huge German companion could handle the approaching tanks by his lonesome.
The building which Molotov had hid himself behind was indeed a bombed-out hotel. A squad of eight NOD soldiers was moving towards it in a skirmish-line formation, rifles raised. Once again, Moses swore. He might be able to pick off at most three before their comrades pinpointed him and returned fire. Not for the first time, he regretted choosing the astounding accuracy of his bolt-action over the slightly-less-accurate semi-automatic.
The first one to fill the deadly scope was what looked like the leader of the bunch, who was holding only a small machine-pistol, as apposed to the SIG-552 assault rifles the rest had. His neck sprouted into a fountain of crimson as the large shell pierced it. As fast as he could, Shadow Moses worked the bolt of his rifle, spitting the spent brass onto the roof, and refocused on another target. This time, two of the soldiers had, foolishly, stopped in an almost-perfect position for the sniper to get them both with a single shot. The slug pierced the first man's head as he turned to get a bearing on his assailant. Then, due to a radical turn of luck for the soldier who would've taken the hit in the chest, the bullet deflected slightly off a chunk of skull, and the other man slipped backwards at the same time, causing him to take the hit in the upper arm. Not pausing to finish the man up, Moses reloaded and took one last man in the chest before rolling away from the roof as a hail of bullets tore through the cement ledge.
"Damnit, Molotov, I only got four. You're gonna have to break away somehow." Moses yelled into the mic.
"That's impossible. I'm facing a rather large brick wall at the moment." Molotov replied. "You're going to need to try harder, or commander Eldritch will be very perturbed."
"Figures, money always talks." Moses said, away from the mic. The sound of crumbling bricks brought his attention behind him. A rather ingenious soldier was attempting to sneak up on him and bring his act to a close. Without thinking, Moses brought his long rifle out in front of him and smashed the other man in the temple with the barrel. The man staggered, dropping his own rifle. The Shadow sprang to a crouch, and rammed the barrel of his gun into the soldiers knee, buckling it and sending him to the ground. A silver flash alerted Moses that the man had pulled a knife, and jerked back barely fast enough to avoid adding another scar to his collection. A bullet whizzing by his ear prompted him to throw himself to the roof, and in the process, he lost his grip on his rifle, which skittered away from his fingers.
"Hey, I'll bet that sucks, you fucking GDI pig." The soldier had regained his bearings, and gun, and was now using the later to pin Moses down from a yard away. The Shadow rolled over, exposing his abdomen to the enemy. He tried to rise to a crouch, but the barrel of the gun persuaded him not to.
"You know, Kane must be really slacking on his recruitment specifics." Moses said offhandedly.
"Really, why d'you say that, bitch?" The young man said.
"Are you really so stupid as to believe a sniper only has one weapon?" The soldiers eyes widened in realization, but his trigger-finger wouldn't respond fast enough as Moses pulled a long bayonet from his sleeve and threw it text-book perfect into the barrel of the 552. His other hand reached into the open breast of his gillie suit and pulled a Smith & Wesson 450 from a holster and put a bullet into the soldiers face. The entire move took only a heartbeat, and the rifle in the hands of the dead man didn't even have a chance to fire as numbed fingers tried futilely to pull the trigger.
"He really was." Moses said, and yanked his knife from its resting place, replacing it in the arm sheath. He next tore off his gillie suit and tossed it off the building, then retrieved his own rifle. "Fuck, you must really have it out for me up there." Moses said irritably when he saw the state of his gun. During the fight, the barrel had bent almost imperceptibly, invisible to anyone but a trained weaponsmith. If he tried to fire it, the bullet would either go obscenely far off-course, or it would backfire. Swearing, he threw the gun to the side and grabbed the 552 form the soldiers hand. The knife had missed the barrel itself, instead digging into the foregrip. The weapon was otherwise in near-perfect condition. The small scope on the top was clear, devoid of the scratches that often plagued such instruments on battle rifles.
"Maybe you really are up there." He murmured, and went back to the ledge, where the bullets had stopped coming. A quick scan of the area showed him why. The soldiers, now down to three, were almost on top of Molotov's position. Putting a need for time above safety, The Shadow stood up and brought the rifle to his shoulder, drawing a bead on the first soldier. The bullet flew nearly perfectly, taking the target just below the temple. The recoil on the 552 was significantly less than his .30-.06, so Moses was able to draw another bead easily.
The second and third shots also proved fatal to the recipients, and the diminutive figure of Sergey Molotov emerged from behind the building and waved at Moses, who simply turned around and ran to his next task: Helping Reichart dispose of the tanks, which he realized had been shelling the city for two minutes.
Michael Reichart was indeed surviving, crouched behind a stairway leading up from an office building. Moses came to a stop across the street, crouched down under the line of sight from the street. He flashed a quick thumbs-up to the German, and pulled the mine trigger for this section of the city. A flash of pyrotechnics engulfed the two leading tanks, one of which was probably disabled by Reichart. The third one down the line rapidly reversed to get away from the destruction, and smashed into the fourth. The fifth was smart enough to turn away, and come abreast of the other two. The huge report of Reichart's Berret signaled the defeat of the only intelligent one. The pilot probably didn't even have time to think as the huge slug ripped through the metal of his tank and splattered him about his own controls.
"Reichart, Molotov, gimme a report." Moses rasped over the radio.
"I blocked off the entrance to the street, so we got the rest of the convoy stuck here for a bit." Molotov said.
"I'll be a little late catching up. I got hit in the leg with some shrapnel." Reichart grumbled.
"Great, three hundred soldiers, four tanks, and all I got is a midget and a rifle." Moses muttered, and jogged back to Molotov, halfway across the city.
Sporadic gunfire was coming from the street, concentrated mostly on the roof of a squat business building on the west side of the street, probably where Molotov had sequestered himself. A few of the automated guns were returning fire from alleys or windows, but they were probably nearly out of ammo. The parapet of Moses' building was to high for him to get a clean shot, though it did offer excellent cover.
Moses cradled his stolen rifle against his chest and slowly squirmed to a small opening in the cement. Again, whoever ran the show up high seemed to have a grudge against the sniper. The opening, while large enough to see through, couldn't come close to the width he needed to fit his gun in. A bullet ricocheting off the parapet next to him reminded him that it was plenty large enough for a half-minded fool to take his head off with a shot from the street.
As the sniper attempted to find a better position, he was buffeted by a huge shockwave, and momentarily deafened by the explosion of a tank shell impacting his building. Chunks of cement and plaster were blown into the air by the high-explosive shell, and the entire building trembled and began to lean. On the upside, the soldiers had stopped shooting.
"Molotov, Reichart, either of you there?" The Shadow whispered into his microphone. The only answer he got was the huge German's plaintive "Ja". "I'm pretty sure the got Molotov. We need to get ourselves outta here as fast as we can, big man."
"Fuck. Yes, we must retreat." Reichart sounded even more frightening when he was angry. "I will call the support in to get us out."
"Good. Let's rendezvous at the schoolhouse near the west entrance." Moses commanded.
"I will try." Was all Reichart said. Shaking plaster from his hair, Moses rose to a crouch, only to be suppressed by a volley of gunfire from the street.
"The time for subtlety is gone." He whispered, and yanked a disc-shaped MIRV grenade out of a pouch on his vest and pulled the pin. He counted to three, and tossed it into the street before pressing gloved hands to ears. A huge shockwave further battered the building, and chunks of shrapnel whizzed through the air as the screams of burning pain filled the street. Moses bolted to his feet and brought his rifle to his shoulder, sighting it on a man on his knees, holding his ears. A burst of 5.56 tore open his chest and dropped him like a sack of bricks. More shots came up at Moses, and he started walking to the next building, scope still at eye level as he picked off a young man at the machinegun of a blasted medium tank. As more soldiers poured into the square, The Shadow flipped the fire selector to full-auto and sprayed the street with the remainder of his magazine, then hurled the gun away from him and vaulted the empty expanse between the two buildings. He came down hard, and rolled to lessen the impact. He snapped his head up and almost stood. Then he found himself staring down the wide barrel of Reicharts Desert Eagle magnum pistol.
"For an expert assassin, you make far to many foolish mistakes." The huge German said, as a contingent of NOD troops surged through the roof entrance of the building. Moses lifted his hands into the air, and Reichart grabbed him by the lapels of his fatigues and hauled him to his feet. A tough-looking soldier relieved the Shadow of his pistol and knife.
"I am truly sorry, James. But the business of revolution is a vicious one." The voice of Commander Eldritch purred from behind him and to his left. Then his vision went black.
Right, as usual, I don't own Command & Conquer; Westwood does. Now to the good stuff. James "Shadow" Moses won the vote from the last chapter. So this one's about him.
%%%
let me take the fall
let me take the blame
let me carry you from hell to home again
let me walk for you
when your legs are weak
let me find the words for you when you cant speak
let me be your armor
let me be your armor
let me be your shield
let me take away the pain you feel
let me be the light
to guide you through the darkest night
let me be your armor
~Assemblage 23, "Let me be Your Armour"
%%%
The interior of the squat cinderblock building belied its stature. It contained a room that went about eighty feet into the earth, and was filled with computers and other such high-tech equipment. Guards in red-and-blue uniforms stood at the only entrance, holding assault rifles. The catwalk that went around the top of the room had more guards, similarly equipped. Technicians worked endlessly on the consoles, collecting information on both NOD and GDI forces scattered throughout the world. A man dressed in full uniform stood on a dais in the center of the room, looking out over the controlled chaos. His name was Ezekiel Eldritch, commander of this Crimson Wolf base.
James Moses was waved through the plexiglass doorway, and into the tech center. He wore his red shirt unbuttoned, and a black t-shirt under it. His black combat boots made no sound on the linoleum floor as he walked up to Commander Eldritch.
"I hear your latest exploits were a success, James." The Commander said, without turning.
"The NOD commandoes are a joke, Eldritch, but a job nonetheless. A job I expect to be paid handsomely fore, as usual." Moses said, in a flat voice.
"Ah, straight to the point. I always liked that about you, James. Blunt, but effective."
"You're stalling, old man. Where's my fucking money." Moses spat acidly.
"Ah, yes, the money. Right here." Eldritch fished into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out an envelope. Moses snatched it from his hand, and opened it. Inside was a check addressed to him, from Eldritch, for the sum of four-hundred-thousand dollars.
"Good. I trust you'll contact me if you have further need of my services." Moses turned on his heel and walked towards the door. He almost reached it when Eldritch called his name.
"I already have a job lined up for you, James." The Commander said, stepping down from the dais. "Walk with me." Eldritch started for the door, and Moses followed.
"Is this a NOD or GDI job?" The Sniper asked as they passed a group of guards patrolling the sterile white halls.
"NOD. There's a caravan of weapons and fuel coming through Moscow next week. I want you to be there to harass them from the start. You'll be working with two veteran members of the movement, Sergey Molotov and Michael Reichart. They're both very good at what they do." Eldritch stopped to look out a small window. By now they were above the surface, the hallways carved directly into the face of the mountain
"I see. I'll prep my gear and move out in the morning." Moses replied.
"Excellent. I'll have the guards pass your truck through." Eldritch concluded the meeting by sticking out his hand, which Moses ignored as he walked down the hall to the garage.
-^-^-^-^-^-
The bombed-out and charred buildings of Moscow loomed on either side of a wide, snow-covered avenue. The residents of the city had long-since fled to a safer haven when the NOD troops had moved in. The troops in turn left the city for a more suitable forward operating base, further south. Now all that remained were ghosts and ashes. And the best spots possible for snipers.
Moses had met Molotov and Reichart a few miles west of the city. They had sketched out a quick plan for placing heavy explosive charges along the street, and hidden automated sentry guns in the doorways of some of the buildings. Even if the devices didn't do much damage, they took attention away from the three snipers, who would be lurking on rooftops or in alleyways.
"I figure the best way to go about this is to have two of us on the roofs, and the other will stay on the ground and take shots from there." Molotov had said, laying a map of the city on the hood of Moses' Humvee. The Russian was shorter than Moses or Reichart, standing only five-foot-five, compared to Moses' Six-three and Reicharts imposing six-eight. "Moses, you and Mike should take the roofs, 'cause you got the high-powered stuff on ya. I'll start the ass-kicking at ground level here," he pointed to a place on the map between two large office buildings, "and you two should pick spots further up the route."
"I'm gonna start at this bank here," Moses pointed to another spot. An average sized man, Moses made up a frightening image. He wore well-fitted urban/ arctic camouflage, and had close-cut gray hair which belied his age. His icy-blue eyes seemed to take in everything they saw, and numerous scars crisscrossed his weathered face. He leaned on his heavy-caliber sniper rifle, and had several other smaller weapons attached to his uniform in various places.
Reichart considered the map for a minute, then pointed to a tall office building near Moses' spot, and across the street.
"I will start here." The huge German had a heavily accented voice and a weather-beaten face. He wore a set of black BDU's strung with extra ammunition and grenades. His head was shaved, and smeared with combat cosmetics. His huge Berret light .50 rifle was propped against the truck.
"Alright then, let's get to it." Molotov clapped his hands together and picked up his PSG-1 rifle. The three men climbed into Moses' Humvee, and headed for the abandoned city of Moscow.
-^-^-^-^-
The thunder of heavy treads was audible throughout the city. The first vehicle in the convoy which stretched for miles was a huge mammoth tank. It's thick armor bristled with machineguns and missile launchers. The thick pavement cracked under the stress of the immense vehicle as it made its ponderous way through the city. This was the vehicle that filled the scope of Shadow Moses' .30-.06 caliber rifle. Across the street, he cold see the huge shape of Reichart and his rifle, and he knew that down among the rubble was Molotov, waiting to cause panic and chaos among the ground troops.
Moses slowly moved his scope over the bulk of the tank, locating the precise spot he had trained himself to find. An incredibly small opening near the front for the gunner to see out of should the targeting system fail. Now it would be the death of said gunner. As the tank made its ponderous way through the city, Moses rose to a crouch and followed it, holding in his hand the activator for the fixed turrets and powerful mines scattered over the street. The tank neared the exit to the city about forty-five minutes after it entered, and stopped abruptly as a high-explosive landmine exploded under its left-rear tread. For a moment, it swerved, smashing into a bombed-out building, before the driver brought it to a semi-controlled stop. The first crew member to climb out was propelled off the tank and into the pavement a yard away by the gigantic slug from Reichart's rifle. Moses brought his scope into line, and was immediately rewarded by the sight of the emergency steering slit facing him. He focused on the opening, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked hard against his shoulder, but the bullet flew true. The sound of multiple screams and ricochets marked a bull's-eye. At least five crewmen out of eight would be turned to jelly by the bouncing bullet inside the tight confines of the tank. Before standing t get another spot, Moses pressed the trigger for the huge mine near the mammoth, and it was reduced to scrap.
"Moses, we got troops moving into the area." Molotov's voice crackled over the radio in his ear. Moses heard several loud cracks as the short man began picking away at the column of soldiers from his hiding spot. The telltale sound of the sentry guns chimed in as well, mixing with the shouts and screams of the soldiers.
"Reichart, we got a platoon of medium tanks coming in from the southwest entrance. Deal with them." Moses barked into the transmitter as he hopped over a small gap between two buildings. From his new spot, he could make out a group of five medium tanks which he warned Reichart about. He had to trust the giants ability, as his own weapon wouldn't do a blessed thing against the tanks, which lacked even the small window of the 'Mammoths. One thing he could do was take their attention away from Reichart while he sniped.
"Molotov, how'd it going with the groundies?" He said to the Russian. No response came for a few seconds.
"I got about seven of them, now they got me pinned down behind what I think was a hotel. Some support would be nice." Molotov's voice was a whisper, probably so he wouldn't alert the soldiers of his position.
"Shit." Moses cursed, and hopped back up, praying that his huge German companion could handle the approaching tanks by his lonesome.
The building which Molotov had hid himself behind was indeed a bombed-out hotel. A squad of eight NOD soldiers was moving towards it in a skirmish-line formation, rifles raised. Once again, Moses swore. He might be able to pick off at most three before their comrades pinpointed him and returned fire. Not for the first time, he regretted choosing the astounding accuracy of his bolt-action over the slightly-less-accurate semi-automatic.
The first one to fill the deadly scope was what looked like the leader of the bunch, who was holding only a small machine-pistol, as apposed to the SIG-552 assault rifles the rest had. His neck sprouted into a fountain of crimson as the large shell pierced it. As fast as he could, Shadow Moses worked the bolt of his rifle, spitting the spent brass onto the roof, and refocused on another target. This time, two of the soldiers had, foolishly, stopped in an almost-perfect position for the sniper to get them both with a single shot. The slug pierced the first man's head as he turned to get a bearing on his assailant. Then, due to a radical turn of luck for the soldier who would've taken the hit in the chest, the bullet deflected slightly off a chunk of skull, and the other man slipped backwards at the same time, causing him to take the hit in the upper arm. Not pausing to finish the man up, Moses reloaded and took one last man in the chest before rolling away from the roof as a hail of bullets tore through the cement ledge.
"Damnit, Molotov, I only got four. You're gonna have to break away somehow." Moses yelled into the mic.
"That's impossible. I'm facing a rather large brick wall at the moment." Molotov replied. "You're going to need to try harder, or commander Eldritch will be very perturbed."
"Figures, money always talks." Moses said, away from the mic. The sound of crumbling bricks brought his attention behind him. A rather ingenious soldier was attempting to sneak up on him and bring his act to a close. Without thinking, Moses brought his long rifle out in front of him and smashed the other man in the temple with the barrel. The man staggered, dropping his own rifle. The Shadow sprang to a crouch, and rammed the barrel of his gun into the soldiers knee, buckling it and sending him to the ground. A silver flash alerted Moses that the man had pulled a knife, and jerked back barely fast enough to avoid adding another scar to his collection. A bullet whizzing by his ear prompted him to throw himself to the roof, and in the process, he lost his grip on his rifle, which skittered away from his fingers.
"Hey, I'll bet that sucks, you fucking GDI pig." The soldier had regained his bearings, and gun, and was now using the later to pin Moses down from a yard away. The Shadow rolled over, exposing his abdomen to the enemy. He tried to rise to a crouch, but the barrel of the gun persuaded him not to.
"You know, Kane must be really slacking on his recruitment specifics." Moses said offhandedly.
"Really, why d'you say that, bitch?" The young man said.
"Are you really so stupid as to believe a sniper only has one weapon?" The soldiers eyes widened in realization, but his trigger-finger wouldn't respond fast enough as Moses pulled a long bayonet from his sleeve and threw it text-book perfect into the barrel of the 552. His other hand reached into the open breast of his gillie suit and pulled a Smith & Wesson 450 from a holster and put a bullet into the soldiers face. The entire move took only a heartbeat, and the rifle in the hands of the dead man didn't even have a chance to fire as numbed fingers tried futilely to pull the trigger.
"He really was." Moses said, and yanked his knife from its resting place, replacing it in the arm sheath. He next tore off his gillie suit and tossed it off the building, then retrieved his own rifle. "Fuck, you must really have it out for me up there." Moses said irritably when he saw the state of his gun. During the fight, the barrel had bent almost imperceptibly, invisible to anyone but a trained weaponsmith. If he tried to fire it, the bullet would either go obscenely far off-course, or it would backfire. Swearing, he threw the gun to the side and grabbed the 552 form the soldiers hand. The knife had missed the barrel itself, instead digging into the foregrip. The weapon was otherwise in near-perfect condition. The small scope on the top was clear, devoid of the scratches that often plagued such instruments on battle rifles.
"Maybe you really are up there." He murmured, and went back to the ledge, where the bullets had stopped coming. A quick scan of the area showed him why. The soldiers, now down to three, were almost on top of Molotov's position. Putting a need for time above safety, The Shadow stood up and brought the rifle to his shoulder, drawing a bead on the first soldier. The bullet flew nearly perfectly, taking the target just below the temple. The recoil on the 552 was significantly less than his .30-.06, so Moses was able to draw another bead easily.
The second and third shots also proved fatal to the recipients, and the diminutive figure of Sergey Molotov emerged from behind the building and waved at Moses, who simply turned around and ran to his next task: Helping Reichart dispose of the tanks, which he realized had been shelling the city for two minutes.
Michael Reichart was indeed surviving, crouched behind a stairway leading up from an office building. Moses came to a stop across the street, crouched down under the line of sight from the street. He flashed a quick thumbs-up to the German, and pulled the mine trigger for this section of the city. A flash of pyrotechnics engulfed the two leading tanks, one of which was probably disabled by Reichart. The third one down the line rapidly reversed to get away from the destruction, and smashed into the fourth. The fifth was smart enough to turn away, and come abreast of the other two. The huge report of Reichart's Berret signaled the defeat of the only intelligent one. The pilot probably didn't even have time to think as the huge slug ripped through the metal of his tank and splattered him about his own controls.
"Reichart, Molotov, gimme a report." Moses rasped over the radio.
"I blocked off the entrance to the street, so we got the rest of the convoy stuck here for a bit." Molotov said.
"I'll be a little late catching up. I got hit in the leg with some shrapnel." Reichart grumbled.
"Great, three hundred soldiers, four tanks, and all I got is a midget and a rifle." Moses muttered, and jogged back to Molotov, halfway across the city.
Sporadic gunfire was coming from the street, concentrated mostly on the roof of a squat business building on the west side of the street, probably where Molotov had sequestered himself. A few of the automated guns were returning fire from alleys or windows, but they were probably nearly out of ammo. The parapet of Moses' building was to high for him to get a clean shot, though it did offer excellent cover.
Moses cradled his stolen rifle against his chest and slowly squirmed to a small opening in the cement. Again, whoever ran the show up high seemed to have a grudge against the sniper. The opening, while large enough to see through, couldn't come close to the width he needed to fit his gun in. A bullet ricocheting off the parapet next to him reminded him that it was plenty large enough for a half-minded fool to take his head off with a shot from the street.
As the sniper attempted to find a better position, he was buffeted by a huge shockwave, and momentarily deafened by the explosion of a tank shell impacting his building. Chunks of cement and plaster were blown into the air by the high-explosive shell, and the entire building trembled and began to lean. On the upside, the soldiers had stopped shooting.
"Molotov, Reichart, either of you there?" The Shadow whispered into his microphone. The only answer he got was the huge German's plaintive "Ja". "I'm pretty sure the got Molotov. We need to get ourselves outta here as fast as we can, big man."
"Fuck. Yes, we must retreat." Reichart sounded even more frightening when he was angry. "I will call the support in to get us out."
"Good. Let's rendezvous at the schoolhouse near the west entrance." Moses commanded.
"I will try." Was all Reichart said. Shaking plaster from his hair, Moses rose to a crouch, only to be suppressed by a volley of gunfire from the street.
"The time for subtlety is gone." He whispered, and yanked a disc-shaped MIRV grenade out of a pouch on his vest and pulled the pin. He counted to three, and tossed it into the street before pressing gloved hands to ears. A huge shockwave further battered the building, and chunks of shrapnel whizzed through the air as the screams of burning pain filled the street. Moses bolted to his feet and brought his rifle to his shoulder, sighting it on a man on his knees, holding his ears. A burst of 5.56 tore open his chest and dropped him like a sack of bricks. More shots came up at Moses, and he started walking to the next building, scope still at eye level as he picked off a young man at the machinegun of a blasted medium tank. As more soldiers poured into the square, The Shadow flipped the fire selector to full-auto and sprayed the street with the remainder of his magazine, then hurled the gun away from him and vaulted the empty expanse between the two buildings. He came down hard, and rolled to lessen the impact. He snapped his head up and almost stood. Then he found himself staring down the wide barrel of Reicharts Desert Eagle magnum pistol.
"For an expert assassin, you make far to many foolish mistakes." The huge German said, as a contingent of NOD troops surged through the roof entrance of the building. Moses lifted his hands into the air, and Reichart grabbed him by the lapels of his fatigues and hauled him to his feet. A tough-looking soldier relieved the Shadow of his pistol and knife.
"I am truly sorry, James. But the business of revolution is a vicious one." The voice of Commander Eldritch purred from behind him and to his left. Then his vision went black.