St. Francis, New Columbia. 08:34
Boom. The town was poking its head out into the daylight. Dawn had come, and so had the songs of the few birds that lived there. But every so often, one could hear the cracks and booms of guns going off in the town.
Boom. A bullet flew across the town, ejecting from the chamber at lighting fast speeds. It hit its target, and the man’s head was blown off, splattering blood and other bodily tissues against the wall behind him. He fell to the ground already dead and bleeding profusely out of the stump of his neck. In a shelled-out three-story house, the sniper pulled back the bolt on his Russian-made sniper rifle. It was a few years old and already outdated, but it still functioned as smooth as silk.
The shell ejected from the open bolt before it was slid shut again, loading a fresh bullet into the chamber. The spent shell fell on the notebook laying beside the rifle, singeing the paper. The sniper always kept the notebook with him, it was as much of a tool as the rifle itself was. The sniper brushed the shell off and focused back on his scope, searching the town for more of his targets. It had been like this for quite some time, the near constant sound of bullets flying. It had begun in the early days of the war, which had started a few years before.
The sniper didn’t mind it much though, he had trained for a year to do this. It was much like his heart beat, and he never had to do much other than write, fire, reload, and lay around. His security detail didn’t mind it much either; he got to sit around and read. Until he was needed, that is. But he almost never was, so he was next to useless.
The sniper fired again, striking yet another target. There were shells littering the floor around him, a few dozen shells at least. Each one marking a man killed, in the name of freedom and democracy. As the sniper reloaded, he heard a faint snore from behind him, ”Jacobs?” He whispered, not getting a response. ”Wake up, I don't feel like I'm in a safe work environment.” He whispered, kicking Jacobs in the leg.
Jacobs snorted, ”Ya know, I always did take you for a snowflake, shut up and get to work.” The sniper sighed and went back to looking through his scope. Jacobs smiled and closed his eyes again, tuning out the incessant sounds around him. The sniper scanned the town but didn’t see a single soul, not that many of his targets had one anyways. He turned to Jacobs,”You think we should move?” He asked,”There’s no one in sight, I think they’re slowly zoning in on our position.”
Jacobs shrugged nonchalantly and grabbed the small radio beside him. ”Charlie to Alpha, Charlie to Alpha, do you copy?” Jacobs said into the radio. There was a short pause before a response came through, ”Alpha here, what is it, Charlie?” Jacobs glanced at the sniper, who was still scanning.”Yeah, we are planning on moving positions. Permission sir?” Jacobs responded. It was a long pause this time, ”Granted, don’t get shot.”
The radio crackled into silence. Jacobs started brushing the shells into a corner and stood up slowly. The sniper stood up and got his pack, they left the room, walking down the stairs to the bottom floor. They checked through the windows to see if anyone was looking their way, it was all clear. They opened the door with a creak and stepped into the alleyway.
They jogged to the next safe house that they had set up, just a few hundred feet away, it wasn’t that far from their original position, but it was enough to gain a different angle. They entered, and after a quick check, they set up again. Already, it was proving fruitful, as the sniper could see people were moving around. They were just being very careful not to be seen from the eastward position. Well, they were still in the open, and that was good.
The sniper set down his rifle and waited for the right people to come out. He didn’t need to check any pictures of the HVT's he needed to kill. He had memorized them in his week of preparation back in London.
It was nearly night now, and the sniper hadn’t fired a single shot since the move. The rebels in the town were actually adapting, learning how to flit house to house. They all knew of the sniper, the whole world did. You’d have to be living under a rock to not know the sniper who had racked up three hundred confirmed kills in one and a half years. No one except his commanding officers knew his actual name.
So they called him Ghost, because, you know, he was one, much to his amusement.
Ghost was tired, he had stayed awake for the past few days. Though it was nothing compared to his training, where he had only four hours of sleep in a five day period. But you would have to be a machine, drunk, or high to not be tired. Jacobs had it easy, he could sleep whenever he wanted, seeing as he was not the main sniper of the two-man team. Undoubtedly, he was superb with a sniper as well, and he was SAS trained.
They had met in joint training and had taken an immediate liking to each other, though Ghost generally stayed away from everyone else. They helped each other, and the COs of the training exercise noticed. They were paired into a team when Ghost finished his training, they became the most feared of them all. And for good reason.
Six months after Ghost’s SEAL training was over, they were shipped to London to become part of a special task force platoon. Those in the platoon were the best of the best. In everything. And now here they were, doing something not many people could do as successfully. Many people, even those in their platoon labeled them as talented. Maybe they were, but they had to work their asses off to get the level of skill needed.
Ghost went through the same thoughts every night, even though he hated it. There was little else to distract him, especially at night, when most of the commotion died down. Ghost loved the darkness, but at the same time, he hated it. Ghost sat up and stretched his muscles, laying down on one’s stomach for hours wasn’t really a good thing for their health. Ghost yawned, maybe a bit too loudly, as Jacobs woke up.”I’ll take over for you.” Jacobs said, sympathetically.
Ghost shook his head, ”Maybe in an hour or two.” Jacobs nodded and laid back onto the half-destroyed plaster wall. It wasn’t comfortable for either of them, there were rocks everywhere, and little nails sticking up. All thanks to the frequent bombing by the US, Britain, France, and Germany. Almost every other country resented the rise of this small country named New Columbia.
It wasn’t an original name, but it worked. It’s capital city, where most of the fighting was, was in Columbia City. It used to be named Saarbrücken, but then after the mini-revolution, it was renamed by its new rulers. The rebels who Ghost targeted were in league with the rulers, but if Ghost killed the rulers, it would be total war. But for now, it was like the War on Terrorism, back in the early 2000s.
Many of the officials were almost content with keeping it at that because it would have caused mass public riots if something were to happen to the rulers. Leonardo and Giovanni Richter used to be just random citizens of Germany, but they soon rose to power in rebel circles. They happened to be very popular, and oddly had Italian names. But that didn't matter, they were both charming and well spoken. All the other government officials hated them for that reason.
Ghost was pulled out of his musing by the flash of red in his sights. He zoomed in on it, a cloaked figure was standing in the shadows of a building, obviously waiting for someone. Ghost zoomed in to the max but still could not see the figures face. He was reluctant to shoot, he had accidentally killed more than a few innocents. He decided to blow the cloak off with a close shot. It was a risky move, but Ghost was confident in his skills.
He set his scope, so he was aiming near the figure's head, he sucked in, holding his breath; waiting for the moment between the beat of his cold, black heart. He fired, landing true, and revealing the figure to be a woman. A beautiful, redhead woman at that. She was no older than he was, and scared. She turned toward the sound of the bullet, looking Ghost straight in the eye.
Ghost was startled by this, no one had ever located him that fast, nor looked him in the eye with such fear. The woman ran off, disappearing into the inky black night. And for the rest of the night Ghost couldn't shake her out of his head, the look in her eyes. Those like a caged animal.