SNIPER

It was a long cold November night. Kerning City lay in darkness, for the rather bright light of the full Moon cast
a pale light over the streets, buildings, and great snow covered Kankoku Mountain beyond. It was
the moon light reflecting from the snow that lit up the whole valley. The waters of the Janszoon River
sparkled in the moonlight. Around the quiet 7ung-Hwang district the heavy guns roared.
Scattered about the Azn-owned districts, machine guns, rifles and the hissing of magic broke the
silence of night, like the giant reptiles barking in the swamps.
The invading Justice Arrow and local resistance were waging civil war.

On the roof top of the 60-floor Luna Ertong-Dasha building, a KCP-SWAT sniper lay watching.
Beside him lay his Morita RS-110 rapid-shot sniper rifle, and slung over his shoulder was a heavy nocturnal
staff resting on his back. He was no magician, nor was he a bowman sniper. He was a civillian
working for the KCP’s SWAT squad’s AzaTeam-7. He was trained to use the staff and gun, and
was licensed by the KCP to use both.

The guy had the face of a Permanoob; young and un-weathered, but his eyes bore the gleam
of a cold-blooded killer. Deep and thoughtful eyes of a man used to seeing death.

He chomped hungrily on a rice ball. He didn’t eat since he started duty, 15 hours ago.
After gumping down the last of the rice ball, the guy took out a bottle of pocari jiuce and took a swig.
Even though he heard guns and occaisonal blast of an arrow bomb, it was quiet on this block.
He was assigned to protect the roof of the Lune children’s building and prevent the Justice Arrow troops
from getting in. The other guys who were supposed to guard the building with him left to hunt some bowmen.
The SWAT man grumbled and cussed. He was missing the ThunderCocks american-football game for this,
and it was likely he’d see no action tonight.
He paused for a moment, thinking if he should risk smoking a cigarette. The flash from a lighter
could be seen easily, and JA snipers and xbowmen could be watching from everywhere among the
rooftops and buildings around. Placing the cancer stick in his mouth, he lit up and dragged, covering the
orange-glowing end with his hand. The second he pinched the end of the cancer stick and stashed it
back in his pocket, an arrow struck a smokestack 2 feet away from his head.
The man dropped to the cold metal roof, cussing under his breath. Another arrow
whizzed over the roof and disappeared into the shadows.

The guy rolled over and got up behind a brick chymney, and looked over the parapet,
making surenone of the moonlight hit him and cast his shadow on the roof.
He could see the dim outline of the oppose building. Damn Justice Arrow cockaroach was under cover.
Just then, an armored truck came down the narrow allwy,
advancing towards the ‘Erlong Dasha building.
It stopped by the cluster of dumpsters, and the man could hear the
faint rumbling of the power crystals and motor.
It was an enemy car for sure, and he wanted to take the staff on his back and fire a magic claw at it, but
he dare not attack; he had to remind himself that this place was crawling with enemies. Even the local
gangs of SEA Landers would shoot him without hesitation; they did not take kindly to whiteman cops.

An old lady cloaked in a shawl approached the van and talked with the driver. A cap on the top opened,
and a fearsome looking xbow emerged. On instinct, the man pointed the Morita rifle, zoomed in with his scope,
even at 430 feet up, and fired. The powerful gun popped several lead shots, straight into the
open hatch. The xbow never fired a shot. It jerked to the side and fell to the street. The man who
held it was dead.
In seconds, the old lady was shot by several hidden gunmen, and dropped dead. But it wasn’t the guy on the
roof who killed her.
A shot rang out and an arrow struck the SWAT man on his left arm.
He dropped and hit the metal roof.
He got hit. Drops of blood hit the roof. As he fell, the nocturnal staff got loose and slipped off him,
slid down the frosty slope of the roof and fell to the street.
The metal staff hit the closed cap of the dumpster with a loud metal clang! The guy thought the noise
would wake the whole neighborhood; it was so loud.
“Fuqing shyt piss on a stick!” the guy muttered; checking his wound.
The arrow broke off, but the sharp metal tip was
lodged in his elbow. He clenched his teeth as he overcame the pain.
Then he took a spool of field dressing, pulled up his sleeve and wrapped it around tightly.
It would have to be fixed tomorrow.
He lay still on the roof, hidden by the shadow of a giant AC unit behind him.
The enemy was facing the moon
light, and sheilded the SWAT man from his vision. He knew he was being watched.
Any escape path on the roof was exposed by the moonlight, and he’d be shot. The only thing keeping
the Justice Arrow would be that they thought the whole building was guarded, or it wasnt their
objective tonight. But the sniper’s orders were to stay and guard this place with his life until
re-enforcements come in the morning. But by then the enemies would see him hiding under the AC units,
and he will be royally fuqked. The man decided to find a way to lure this guy out and
pop him. He crawled back out from under the AC unit slowly and carefully stealthed his way
around the rainwater basin and chymneys to where he shot the guy on the street.
He stood infront of a crate, shadowed by the water basin.
The gentle roar of the AC units was rather loud and
masked any noises he made. Then he had an idea.
The sniper took out his lighter, and taped it to the muzzle
of the rifle. He reached to the side of the crate,
and pressed it against the wood surface; pushing the
button of the lighter.
A second after the flame lit up, a storm of bullets and
arrows slammed into the crate, knocking the man’s
Morita rifle out of his hands so hard he grunted as his hands hurt.
The gun clattered to the roof, and
the gunfire stopped.
The wall of the crate was riddled with bulletholes and scratches from the arrows,
which lay scattered
around the man. He was sure
that next would come somr arrow rain, but it didn’t.
The noise from the shootout nearby died down,
and the men could be attacked.
He exhaled a breath of relief. He thought he was dead right there, and his life was spared
only by the enemies’ assumption that he was dead.

Good, the man thought. That’s what he wanted. The gangs’ kids
would be satisfied and now try to locate where the arrows came from,
and go after the Justice Arrow snipers.
The noise of the AC units died down, and all was eeriily silent again.
Rusty carefully navigated his way through the shadows.
He heard the sound of footsteps crossing
the wooden planks that stretched roof to roof. The J.A. men were coming to loot his body.
The man’s heart raced. The beats were so loud he feared the guys would hear him.
The men came into view, climbing up from one of the penthouse decks where the plank was.
Their faces were masked by their shadows.

The sniper held up his rifle, and aimed. He flipped a switch on the gun, setting it to rapid fire.
These guys are morons! he thought. There they were out in the moonlight begging to be
shot up by the Azns around here! Then as if they smartened up, they hid in the shadow of chymney.
But he knew he was there, aimed the gun, held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

The Morita rifle fired out several shots, nailing both of the J.A. men. The SWAT man didn’t
stop fire for at least 15 seconds as he moved the gun to hit every square foot of shadow behind the
chimney. Finally he ceased fire, and stared. Silence. He heard two thumps on the metal floor. The
guys had to be hit. He dashed accross the moonlit area of the roof and into the shadow.

The men lay dead. The SWAT man’s cry of joy was replaced by
remorse as the appetite for battle wore off. He felt
sweat drip down his head and face, but it was covered by the skull cap he was wearing.
He cussed at humself, cursing the war, cursing the Justice Arrow and everything else.
He felt drained, and the injury in his arm hurt like hell now. Still he had the odd curiosity to look at the men
he shot.
He slung the sniper rifle over his back, and flipped one of the bodies over to take a look.
The face was covered
by a thick scarf, and the front tip of his Patriot cap. The cap bore the coat of arms of the
Justice Arrow. He pulled off the man’s scarf and hat, releasing his dark blue hair.
The SWATman’s eyes widened as he
realized he knew this man.
A rush of emotions ran through the SWATman’s mind and body, and a tear came to his eye.
After a minute
of silence, he pounded the dead man’s chest.
“You asshole! Why the hell did you join the Justice Arrow!?” he
hissed sharply. “Fuqking moron!” he cried silently.
He crept over to the other carcass. Both bows were lying next to this one.
Apparently they were running when he
shot them. He examined the corpse and realized it was a female.
This one wore an arnah cap, and also had long hair. she wore high level bowman fatigues and gear. Her
casa xbow rested in her arms, an arrow still cocked in it.
He removed the hat, and scarf to see her face and he choked up. She also had long beautiful blue hair
and a pretty youthful looking face.
“No! It can’t be! This is so fuqked up! This has gotta be a fuqked dream! Wake up, dammit!” the man cried.
His mind was flooded with memories of her. She had known him since he was born and he was with her all the time
when they were kids. The other guy also was with the man in past times. they loved eachother so much.
He couldn’t believe all this, and he kept denying the fact that he just killed his brother and sister!

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This was inspired when i had to read a short story for English class.
Look up Liam O’Flaherty’s “The Sniper”
I dunno if this is going to be a prologue or not, but Im still trying to figure out the Northern Markets
story.
anyways peace