Freshly fallen snow lines the streets of the deserted Lakeside town, crunching beneath their boots as they move towards the buildings towards the centre of what had once been some sort of resort. The four scavengers move cautiously but quickly, worried that reports of Fireflies encroaching further and further into their territory might mean a hard fight for what would probably turn out be a measly amount of supplies. Wordlessly, the Hunters split up and take up positions that allows them to maximise coverage of the snow-laden resort.
Climbing to the roof of a low-slung cottage, the man with the sniper rifle scans the area thoroughly, looking out for the garish yellow uniforms of the Fireflies. Seeing no signs of life, he signals the others that the town is all-clear. The other three peel from cover and move in a V formation towards their first target, a large lonely cottage separated from the rest of the little lakeside commune. From his perch, the sniper continues to scan the area, determining that the reports must have been wrong or that the Fireflies had given up and gone home. Dropping noiselessly to the snow-covered ground, he makes his way into the house he was previously standing on top off through a conveniently-open window. Once inside, he searches for supplies and after meticulous searching of the small cottage, finds nothing of interest or utility. Worried that he's been away from the others for too long, he makes for the window to catch a glimpse or even establish contact with them.
As he approaches the window, he hears a shot ring out in the distance and all hell breaks loose. He hears the retort of gunfire from the house where he last saw his fellow Hunters. Snatching frantically at his sniper rifle, he dives to cover below the window and prays that nobody has seen him yet. Cautiously, he peeks through the window, scanning the area for targets. On the far side of the town, he sees a glint that can only be from a rifle scope and gingerly, he lifts the rifle to the window and peers through his own scope. From the magnified image of his scope, the Hunter manages sees a Firefly behind the glint with another Firefly probably acting as a spotter next to him. Breathing in, he lines up the shot and gently squeezes the trigger. The rifle adds a loud retort to the symphony of gunfire erupting across the idyllic whitewashed town as the man holding it attempts to bring the weapon back to bear for another short. One eye still glued to the scope, he sees the head of one of the Fireflies releasing a pink mist into the crisp winter air and satisfied with the result of his marksmanship, moves the weapon ever so gently to target the second Firefly.
Cannily, the other Firefly has dropped behind cover and grabbed his fallen compatriot's weapon. Moving frantically towards better cover, he scrambles across the snow with a rifle in one hand and a pistol in another, shooting wildly with the pistol out of sheer panic. The sniper takes a breath and leads the shot, slowly putting pressure on the trigger, waiting for the perfect moment to fire. The Firefly trips and the man with the sniper rifle pulls the trigger. Almost instantaneously, the round enters the Firefly's leg, causing him to shout in pain and fall even deeper into the snow. Cursing, the sniper works the bolt and loads another round into the chamber of his trusty weapon, sending another shot towards the fallen Firefly. Another one down and an unknown number to go. Peeling away from the window, the sniper moves cautiously towards the door, scanning the area ahead of him with his revolver in hand. With the area seemingly clear, he moves quickly towards the house his comrades are holed up, attracting the attention of the other Fireflies in the area. With a fusillade of shots whizzing past him, the Hunter increases his pace and dives through a window to escape the blizzard of lead headed his way. Grunting, the sniper gets back on his feet and moves further into the house, following the sound of gunfire coming from within the house. In the living room, he comes across his allies, two still up and one writhing in pain on the floor. As he approaches his compatriots, a nail bomb sails through one of the windows and detonates, killing his friends and sending various bits of shrapnel into his arms and legs.
to be continued
No comments:
Post a Comment