It was a starry night. The pale, white moon overlooked the ruins that was known as San Francisco. I took out my rifle, pitch black, sleek, silenced, and deadly. The XM2010, truly a beauty. I mounted the rifle on the ruins, and drew my face to the sight, slowing down my breathing pace, my heartbeat clearly audible to me as I wait for my enemies to pass.
"Bravo Two, this is Bravo One, what is your status?" That was my squad leader, Anaconda. "No sight on the enemy units, sir." I exhaled. Readjusting my focus on the road beneath me. A squad of men marched through the forest, and on to the road. The Rebels. Enemies of the Federation, trying to create their own fascist country by destroying our own country. I could feel the rifle now; it's weight, the weight of a tool designed to take lives; I held the rifle firmly in my hands and whispered, "Bravo Team, this is Bravo Two, Enemy unit approaching. All units standby," Anaconda's voice whispered in my ear, "Take the shot, Bravo Two, Shoot to kill." "Yes, sir." I replied.
I adjusted my breathing, a bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I put my crosshair on the head of the leader, a man walking in front of the pack with bushy brows and a pair of pale, hazel eyes. His life is in my hand, it was my job to end his life. I inhaled and held my breath; the trigger of death right beneath my finger. I pulled the trigger, and a red hole appeared on the man's forehead. He dropped to his knees, muttering, and dropped dead. And at that exact moment, chaos erupted.
His men whipped out their guns, one of them screaming, "Sniper! Take cover!" I have used up my advantage-the element of surprise. I quickly ducked behind a ruined desk as bullets flew past me. I disassembled my rifle and hauled it on my back, taking out my knife, and my silenced MP5. I ran down the stairs, rushing into the battlefield.
My team was already engaged in a firefight with the enemy team; Anaconda, fighting off two soldiers with his FN FAL in hand; Bulldog, wielding his twin Uzis and fending off a soldier with an M16; And Red, with his flamethrower and lighting up everyone.
The fight lasted for a few minutes, and the whole team of rebels were eliminated. I looked at the remains of the team of dead rebels, and I realized that nobody will remember these men. Sure, they will be mourned by their teammates, missed by their loved ones, but here on the battlefield, you're the hunter, or the hunted. There's no escaping death, it's just the matter of how long you live until it catches up to you. They were my enemies, but bottom line, they're still human. I picked a flower from the bush nearby, and paid my respects for the dead, the forgotten, and the lost.
"Bravo Two, this is Bravo One, what is your status?" That was my squad leader, Anaconda. "No sight on the enemy units, sir." I exhaled. Readjusting my focus on the road beneath me. A squad of men marched through the forest, and on to the road. The Rebels. Enemies of the Federation, trying to create their own fascist country by destroying our own country. I could feel the rifle now; it's weight, the weight of a tool designed to take lives; I held the rifle firmly in my hands and whispered, "Bravo Team, this is Bravo Two, Enemy unit approaching. All units standby," Anaconda's voice whispered in my ear, "Take the shot, Bravo Two, Shoot to kill." "Yes, sir." I replied.
I adjusted my breathing, a bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I put my crosshair on the head of the leader, a man walking in front of the pack with bushy brows and a pair of pale, hazel eyes. His life is in my hand, it was my job to end his life. I inhaled and held my breath; the trigger of death right beneath my finger. I pulled the trigger, and a red hole appeared on the man's forehead. He dropped to his knees, muttering, and dropped dead. And at that exact moment, chaos erupted.
His men whipped out their guns, one of them screaming, "Sniper! Take cover!" I have used up my advantage-the element of surprise. I quickly ducked behind a ruined desk as bullets flew past me. I disassembled my rifle and hauled it on my back, taking out my knife, and my silenced MP5. I ran down the stairs, rushing into the battlefield.
My team was already engaged in a firefight with the enemy team; Anaconda, fighting off two soldiers with his FN FAL in hand; Bulldog, wielding his twin Uzis and fending off a soldier with an M16; And Red, with his flamethrower and lighting up everyone.
The fight lasted for a few minutes, and the whole team of rebels were eliminated. I looked at the remains of the team of dead rebels, and I realized that nobody will remember these men. Sure, they will be mourned by their teammates, missed by their loved ones, but here on the battlefield, you're the hunter, or the hunted. There's no escaping death, it's just the matter of how long you live until it catches up to you. They were my enemies, but bottom line, they're still human. I picked a flower from the bush nearby, and paid my respects for the dead, the forgotten, and the lost.
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