Breathe steadily, that's all I knew about shooting.
That's not true, I know that you should lean forward when shooting a handgun, I know that you should treat every gun as if it's loaded, to be aware of your target and it's background, to not point at a person or object without the intention of destroying it.
But with this?
The sniper rifled rested on the foldable table, it was the biggest gun I'd ever seen. The metal stock was spring loaded and the Scope was perfectly tuned for this specific shot. the Magazine had 15 mastercrafted bullets stacked on top of eachother, the spring pushing them upwards. The Bipod holding the rifle up was standard issue but magnificent none the less.
Breathe Steady
I glanced out the apartment window one more time, then at the clock. 3:58, It was time. I had to move fast, Lifting up the Rifle from the table, I mounted it upon the window sill. The window itself had been broken out hours ago, but some jagged shards remained. As I was setting the gun up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face covered in a camoflauged pattern. It was more traditional than practical, since It was an urban environment without a tree in sight.
Shaking my thoughts away, I set myself up behind the rifle. My hands were shaking as I placed them on the Grip and the stock, I'd never shot something like this before. But my group was dwindling fast and they had to send me out for this specific job. The damned Radicals were picking us off in large numbers but we wouldn't stop, we would never stop.
My target was in sight now, a businessman in a fine gray suit and a leather briefcase, exactly as they'd said he would be. My eyes flicked towards the second man, a bodyguard? Whatever, He won't stop me.
My shakey hands weren't helping me keep the gun steady as I looked through the scope, aiming directly at the Businessman's chest. My finger tightened on the trigger, but I hesitated.
Why did this man deserve to die? Why this one? He looked average, he didn't look like a soldier. He might be one of those damned politicians that made all this happen in the first place, but did he deserve to die? I knew nothing about him. I was only told to come to this spot and do what needed to be done.
My finger was easing off the trigger and I was pulling my eye away from the scope when I caught the eye of the bodyguard. His eyes widened, and he shoved the Businessman over as he simultaneously reached for his gun, he pulled it out of it's holster and fired to quick shots in my general direction.
Thunk, Thunk.
I fell away from the window, a red splash appearing on the wall to the left of the opening as my shoulder caught the bullets. I was in shock, I couldn't feel anything, but I knew I'd been shot. I scrambled to my feet, putting myself back in clear view of the Body Guard and Businessman, but this time both of them were aiming identical handguns at my window.
I didn't even hear anything, I just felt the impact of 5 instantaneous bullets hitting me square in the chest.
With the force of being hit center mass, I was flung backwards. My back hitting the wall that wasn't too far from the window. I slid down to a sitting position, leaning against the wall.
Was this how it was supposed to end? Was this fair? I had decided to not shoot him, yet I had paid the price as if I had.
Couldn't they see that I wasn't going to hurt them? Couldn't they see that I had given up? Didn't they see that I had Stopped?
What seemed like hours passed. The Man and his guard probably long gone. I could tell I was dying, the blood flowing from the 7 new holes in me was enough to tell me that my time was short.
We'll never stop. Never, We won't ever stop.
"Heh, heh. Yeah, Right." I said to myself, Which prompted a weak cough that expelled a runny red liquid from my mouth all over my torn, tan slacks that had once been part of someones suit.
My shakey hands reached down those torn pants, down to my thigh were a holster where a scavenged Glock 17 was nested. Fumbling with the button, I finally managed to get the gun free.
Raising the gun with a timid hand to my temple, I took one last look out the window, past the discarded barrel of the Rifle and into the sun. With a bloody and cracked smile, I thought one last thought as my hesitant finger squeezed the trigger.
Breathe Steadily.
This was a short story written in about half an hour. Tear it to shreds.
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