This book is dedicated to pC. Timothy Smitts.
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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