This book is dedicated to pC. Timothy Smitts.
Seargent Ramirez checked the sight lines on his rifle. All clear.
Wind was blowing southwest at a velocity of 6 mph, and with a
slight movement of his hand he adjusted the rifle to compensate
for drift and windspeed. He calculated the distance to target,
the ballistic drop of his bullet, and factored in the Bernoulli
effect. All was clear, and all he had to do was take the shot.
His spotter, Jenkins, announced the distance to target: 1.3 miles
away. His name: Omar Khadr.
"Hold fire", said Corporal Stryker. "Look i know you can get
ahead of your self when your sniping Ramirez. But we need this
one alive." Ramires shot him with an angry glare, but then stood
up and left the Barret .50 cal rifle with matte black finish for
concealment. Attached to the top receiver piccitanny rail was a
36x zoom scope and red dot hybrid sight. The weapon was a custom
job if Stryker had ever seen one. With a smooth hairpin trigger
pull, it was easy as a walk in the park to scope out some tangos,
and with the enhanced ergonomic pistol grip and cheek rest for
sniping, it was easier than ever to truly eliminate your target
down the barrel. The butt stock just helped stabalize the recoil
even more making this weapon not only a deadly choice for
long-distance killing but a marvel of modern bleeding edge
tech.
But none of that was important, what was important on this
mission was getting the hostages out alive; there were ten of
them, all Reuters reporters that were doing some embedded
journalism story on terrorism and just happened to be in the
wrong place at the wrong time but that's the risk you take when
you fly into a warzone Stryker thought out loud and then he
looked over to Ramirez who was clearly getting very
impatient.
"Sir hes going to get away if we dont take the shot", he said.
"Civillian lives are at risk! I know you think you're some kind
of war hero, but if we can't save our own people we're supposed
to protect, then what the FUCK can we do sir?" Ramirez may have
had a steady hand for sniping, but he had a hot head and a filthy
mouth. Still though he was Strykers #1 right hand man for any
situation involving long-range fire.
"I said hold fire! Get a hold of yourself Ramirez. I'm the
ranking officer here. If we shoot him now we have a chance of
hostages dying. They are using them as human shields - sick and
twisted. And if we let civillians die, we will be
court-marshalled sooner than you can say FUBAR, rookie." said
Corporal Stryker.
Ramirez sighed and went back to the rifle. His spotter was
tracking the terrorist's every move to make sure they didn't get
the drop on them. They were in an abandoned tower barely over a
mile from their location - an old yellowed stone building the
wall of which had been blasted out by an IED round or a mortar.
Stryker couldn't tell which, and it didn't really matter. In any
case, the hole in the wall offered a perfect spot for sniping -
they could cover a very large angle from this position without
being spotted. But of course the main force was the one that was
important: they were just storming the front gates when it was
time. Stryker's team was more tac support than a spearhead. But
none of this mattered now.
He got a call on his radio. "They're threatening to take out one
of the hostages if we don't end our siege", the commander told
him. Stryker grimaced. These people are no more than barbarians,
but they at least know when they are surrounded. "We can't let
this guy get away. No offense sir... but I'm taking the shot", he
said. The commander began screaming through the radio. He took it
off his vest and tossed it out the window. His squad looked at
him, shocked.
"What? Don't tell me you've never seen me do that before." he
said. The squad laughed, giving him a pat on the back. It was
true, just like the old days Stryker had always been a lone wolf
on the battlefield. But this time, it was no joke. This was high
stakes stuff, they were dealing with a terorrist the likes of
which had never been seen before. But none of that mattered now.
He ordered Ramirez to get away from the rifle.
"It's all lined up for you, sir. Take the shot." he said in his
familiar Mexican accent.
Stryker laid down near the rifle. He took it in his hands, and
looked through the 36x magnification lens. He saw a terrorist in
a burkha holding an innocent male journalist like an human
shield, who was clearly terrified, crying his eyes out in fear.
Stryker zeroed in on the terrorist's head. There he was. Omar
Khadr. The man he had been hunting for the last two years of his
life. This was it. It all came down to this moment. He placed his
hand in the trigger guard, and slowly pulled back the
trigger...
BOOM!!! The round rocketed out of the flash hider. Omar ducked
out of the way just in time, and the hostage's head exploded.
Stryker dropped the rifle, horrified. He looked around the
room.
"Holy shit, searge..." said jenkins.
"This is FUBAR if I've ever seen one", ramirez added.
---THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS IT IS LIABLE TO CHANGE AND BE EXPANDED AT ANY MOMENT!! -Jace
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