Spirit of the Woods

Removing a Variable

Removing a Variable

Chernobog

Somewhere in the city, a column of Guerrillas traveled through the sparse streets. Ax-wielding foot soldiers and the sparse Shield Guard comprised the majority of their force. There was little to no talking during their march, expected from a professional force.

One man, a regular rank and file, noticed a remarkably intact car beside the road. It wasn't usual for a vehicle to be in such an excellent state after all this time, so there must be something inside. Curiosity getting the best of him, he stepped out of the formation. Taking a few steps, he was about to look through its windows, but an armored hand pulled him back. "What do you think you're doing!? Back into formation! If we resort to looting everything, we won't be better than the trash out here!" A shield guard yelled, throwing the trooper back into the march.

The car sat untouched as the line passed by. A couple of minutes passed before a horned figure appeared in its windows. Opening the door, Firewatch emerged, rifle first, scanning her surroundings. She's been laying on the ground of that car for over ten minutes, waiting for them to pass. Her look turned to the road from which they came. A large park stood at the very end, surrounded by metal sheets, sandbags, and guards. With what she saw just now, she could infer its purpose. It was the Guerilla's base. However, she couldn't just waltz through the front entrance. It was always the strongest point of defense per Patriot's strategy. Besides, she didn't even know where the mortars were.

But she couldn't take her time. It had already been 15 minutes since she left and who knows what would happen if she continued to do so. She'll have to go in blind. "Nothings better than on-the-fly search and destroy," Firewatch muttered to herself. Circling around the park, she made sure to steer away from the sightlines of the various moving patrols as she probed the perimeter for weak points. After a couple of minutes of observing, she spotted an unsuspecting gap in one barrier around the park. Recording the patrols' movements, she waited in the gap of their patterns before slipping through the crack.

Immediately crouching behind a nearby group of bushes as she looked at the base in front of her. Dozens of tents and ramshackle sheds stood propped up around the area, with people going along with their business beside them. That wasn't all though, as at every corner of the base stood a watchtower with an armed guard. Looking towards the middle of the camp, she spotted her target. A trio of mortars, in a shallow gun pit, left unattended by their operators.

It was the perfect chance to act, but first, she needed to take care of the watchtower guards. Checking the chamber of her VSS, she centered the crosshair of the scope onto the head of the Guerilla that was standing in the tower closest to her. Slowly squeezing the trigger, she watched her target's head erupt in red mist and collapse, out of sight from his comrades. Free to move on her side of the camp, Firewatch moved and pressed herself against the wall of a nearby shed. Peering from the building's corner, she watched a 7-ton park beside one of the larger structures of the camp. She heard a couple of calls for help from the driver before a group of soldiers emerged nearby.

They jostled with a couple of wooden boxes from the back of the truck before bringing them inside the building. Even from a distance, she could easily read the boxes' labels. They were 82mm mortar shells. Looks like they're moving into some sort of armory. She was about to break for cover but stopped herself as a figure came out from one tent, standing in front of the alley Firewatch resided in.

The guerilla yawned as he brought a cigarette out for a smoke. Firewatch stared at the back of this fresh problem as she unsheathed her kukri. He had a full view of the mortar pit. He had to die. Creeping behind the man, the menacing glint of the blade seemingly shone in the shadows. In a split second, Firewatch's hand clamped over his mouth before her kukri ran its edge across his throat. The Guerilla didn't get the chance to struggle before the blood filled his throat. Firewatch held the man's body in her arms as he went limp, his unlit cigarette hitting the ground.