no justice in this world (and there never was) {snk plot}
Jun 27, 2014 10:28:27 GMT -5
Post by rook on Jun 27, 2014 10:28:27 GMT -5
throw it all away
let's lose ourselves
'cause there's no one left for us to blame
it's a shame we're all dyingThe crosshair hovers over the possum's head, not quite steady enough for me to take a shot but tempting all the same. If I fire and miss, I'll scare it away, but it will be pretty damn impressive if I can make that shot from here. I lower the gun, pulling away from the sight and searching my toolbox for extensions to the dragunov sniper rifle. I forage through empty ammunition cartages and spare bullets, different variations of scopes and grips until I find what I need. I pull out the bi-pod and extend the legs, clipping them down to the steady oak surface on which I stand. From up here, in my watchtower, I am a god. The silent protector of these forests. A watchman. I can be merciful or ruthless. I enjoy that power.
The campsite below me is makeshift, but homely all the same. That buffoon Marco has done a surprisingly good job at putting up the six tents and connecting our communications to the generator. We have been live for a couple of hours, and just got word that the squad is en-route to our location. It's just the two of us here, currently. I have half a mind to deal with Marco now, whilst we are alone, but it's just not sensible to do so with the others arriving so soon. No, I will deal with Marco when the time is right. I just hope that time is soon. He knows something, and I can't risk keeping him around for too much longer.
The woods are thick and heavy, a canopy above us blocks all signs of the evening light, covering us in an artificial midnight. Thin orange beams creep through from time to time, panning over the overgrown grass before they are cut out again by a change of wind. It won't be long before it actually is night time, but we won't see the difference. I feel so small in these woods. The trees loom over us like the true protectors of the forest, older than time itself. They unnerve me, make me want to feel bigger and stronger. I attack my gun to the bi-pod and peer through the scope. The crosshair is much more steady now. When I line it up to the possum's head, there is very little change that I will miss. Leaning forwards and closing one eye, I rest my finger on the trigger. You're mine, little buddy. I hold my breath and gently squeeze the trigger.
CRACK-POW
The possum falls limp to the ground.
"HAH-HA!" I yell triumphantly, standing up and raising my arms above my head, "Y'see that Marco?" I look down at the camp from atop my watchtower, eyes searching for Marco. I can't see him. Eh, he must be in one of the tents or something.
"Whatever." I sit back in my deckchair, peering into my scope again.
No signs of them Muttations. Reports said that the beasts were further into the woods, in their nests. Since escaping their arena several months ago, they've found their way out here to District Seven, and built a silk fortress within the forest. Impressive to say the least. We will struggle to traverse through. I bet them webs will cause us all kinds of problems with our 3DM gear. Last thing we want is someone zipping at forty miles an hour into a web and taking their head off. I sure as hell won't be that reckless.
The unmistakable boom of a hovercraft comes into earshot. They're here already? I sit up right, grabbing my sniper rifle and swinging it over my shoulder. I clamber down the wooden ladder and hit the grass with both feet. They didn't hang around. Captain Levi obviously wanted to get here as soon as possible. I wouldn't put it past him to prioritize this mission. The man hates mess, and these Macromantulas have made one hell of a mess. Good thing he's leading the clean-up, then. Hah-ha.
"Captain," I greet him as he and his squad step off the hovercraft. He looks shorter than usual, but I dare not look down at him in a way that makes him feel small. He'd kick my ass. I readjust the sniper buckle so it hangs on my back more comfortably. I then give him the correct salute, before standing at ease.
"Bodt and I have scouted ahead," I clear my throat, "It doesn't look good sir. We estimate about twenty two Macromantulas, and they've laid eggs too - lots of eggs!"
I remember them being difficult to look at. Each egg was like a pod, nearly the same size as a fully grown man. They hung from the trees like fruits of death, ready to hatch out more of the disgusting insects.
"They're set up about a mile east, deep in the woods," I recall, "Although I fear the sheer amount of webbing between the trees is going to render our 3DM gear useless."
It isn't exactly the best news to give the Captain, but he asked for a thorough report. The truth is, this isn't going to be like any of our previous Muttation runs. This is going to be far more challenging.
how could you send us so far from home
when you know damn well this is wrong
i would still lay down my life for you
and do you think you deserve your freedom
words: 864, lyrics: soldier's poem by muse
graphics and templates by rook
graphics and templates by rook