The Sniper's Heart

Chapter 1

   The voice of the Captain buzzes over the intercoms as I breathe deeply, the butt of my AK setting snuggly up against my shoulder. "Target is within sight." His whispered voice rasps, the sound of a hand pistol cocking back ringing through my ears. My finger dusts across the trigger, the anxiety of the moment making my body burn with excitement. I watch through the scope of my rifle, watching the target grab a young girls bloodied face, spitting down by her feet. I grit my teeth, pressing a finger to my earpiece. "Waiting for your command." My voice is strained as I watch the suspect grab a knife from one of the men around him and flash the blade at the young girl.

    I can hear the tension across the coms. My teammates staring down through their own scopes at this son-of-a-bitch they call a man. My heart throbs at the thought of the young girls past few days. Never-ending disrespect. The only crime this girl has done, is be the daughter of an evil man himself. Holding her ransom for some money and drugs.

    The men are all laughing at the girls fear and my eyes narrow, anger thudding through my body. "Capt. if you don't give the order soon-"

    "Hold your fire, sniper." He snarls across the coms and I bite my tongue to hold back the urge to shoot. The man raises his hand, the girl flinching back. He's reaching to smack her, winding up and-

   "Now."

   I lock on the man's temple, snarling as I yank back the trigger, the sound vibrating through my bones and ears. Settling the murderous urges that surge in my chest. The bullet pierced through the wind, as fast as light before striking the man right in his temple. Blood oozes from the wound and he drops to the floor like a boneless figure.

    Hell breaks loose. "Move in!" Captain shouts over the coms and I push myself up from the ground, groaning at the tight muscles of my back. This mission has been long. About a month long stake out and information gathering. Weeks under cover and sleeping in uncomfortable hotel rooms with hot air and broken air conditioners. I can't wait to get back to the barracks and finally rest. Sleep, eat, train. Be comfortable. Take a shower with my actual shampoo. It's the little things that matter the most. It feels like the dirt has seeped into my pores, clogging every part of my skin with the reminder of the long nights.

    I watch from the top of the cliff as my team goes in, guns blazing and fists ready. I almost laugh at the sight of all the frightened men, tripping over their own men's bodies to try and reach an exit in time. Though I know my team is going to handle it, I wait, sniper in my hand and aimed at the window I had shot through, waiting for a moment of slip-up. It's very unlikely, but still possible.

    After a while, the action dies down and then there are just bodies laying scattered across the ground, the captain heading towards the young girl, speaking softly as he goes to untie her. She jumps into his arms and he tucks her tight to his chest before pressing his finger to his ear piece. "All clear. Meet back at position."

    I switch my sniper into safety and unsnap the clip from the gun, stuffing the empty magazine into my tactical vest. With a fluid movement, I have my sniper strapped across my back and I'm starting to make my way down the hot ground of the deserted town. The wind blows gusts of dust up into my face, smacking against the goggles I have on and the humidity ripping through my mask. It's sticky and awful, but this mission was successful and I have to be happy with that.

    We saved the girl, and took out another round of unwanted men littering the streets. It was successful. Yes.

    One of my fellow snipers meets me at the bottom of the cliff, giving me a wave as he clicks his sniper case closed. "Hey Red, nice shot out there today," he states, stacking his case up against the back seats of our military cars. "Yeah, it was fine. Could have been a steadier release though," I say, slinging the sniper off my shoulder and into my gloved hands. "Don't be so hard on yourself, little red. You're the best sniper in our barracks." Foster states, sending me a wink. I roll my eyes at the other decent sniper in our campaign and shake my head. He doesn't understand. They never do. He's a decent man, yeah. But the men have it easier in this line of work. He might get away with slacking a shot, but if my angle is off, I could be in for a torturous week of training.