𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ || 𝐹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓍

Army Life

(Disclaimer, I am in no way suggesting this is actually how the Army works, I may add some facts but most stuff will be twisted for the story! This is purely fictional work, for entertainment purposes only.)

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"Up three degrees and North-East t-"

"Shut up, you insufferable idiot!"

  I whipped around, pointing my sniper rifle at my spotter in a threatening manner. His eyes widened in slight shock but his sheer terror was the most  prominent emotion his eyes showed. His eyes diverted from the gun and up to meet my eyes, hands up in defense and surrender. My eyes lifeless, bored and uncaring. I have little, to no humanity for people. No pity or mercy. At least that's what people say. No soul. Truth is... I was almost beginning to believe them. I try not to think about it, not much anyways. If I dwindled on it too much, then I'd get trapped, can't be letting that happen.

   My life consists of the same daily routine. Wake up, get ready, eat, train, sometimes kill someone, eat again , and then go to bed. Not exactly as simple as that, but you get the general idea. Train... Kill people... It's all part of my job really. I signed up for it, the Army, I mean. One of the best snipers there, which I don't understand why the hell I need a spotter. Intel, they tell you the wind millage, how many degrees to move to hit the target, things like that. But I don't need one, I know how to do it already, in fact I'm better without one. They only get in my way. I always hit the target, and I never miss. I know how to calculate everything correctly... and I know how to pull the trigger. That's all to it.

   Of course, I make it all sound so simple and easy. It's not. You need guts, guts to pull the trigger and guts to continue living knowing you just took someone's life, and I have that. Not many people do, and that's okay. Because that's when they send me.

   I gave the spotter a final look before lifting the gun up in the air, swinging it back over to its original spot, repositioning it swiftly. I looked at the distance from me and the target. Roof to ground. Yards, feet, inches away. A man, late forties standing innocently half way down the street from the roof I rested on, where everybody could see him. Witness him. Tall, lightly skinned, big black beard, and kinda chubby. This man.. Human, just as I am.. He was about to die. By my hands.

   I put my eye up to the scope and lined up with my target. It was simple, as I mentioned. To kill a person that needed to be killed, and this man was one of those people that needed to be killed. He was responsible for atrocious things, so his 'punishment' is death. Simple, find target, line up the shot, pull the trigger, aaaand thud... They're dead.

"Mission complete." I confirmed coldly whilst swinging the gun up and over my partner's head stealthily. I began bis putting it away, feeling my partner's eyes bore into the back of my head the whole time I disassembled it.

"Time to move out." I stood up from my spot and started to retreat from the scene, ignoring the screams and yells of bystanders who had just witnessed the man's downfall just moments ago.

   My name is Scarlet Melody Swan. I'm twenty one years old, born March 29. My parents are Renee and Charlie, and my younger sister, Isabella.

   I work in the Army, specifically as a sniper. People say I'm heartless, ruthless.. Have no soul... Anything and everything along those lines, really. I don't disagree, nor do I agree entirely as well. I'm one of the best snipers, as well as top in my ranks. I teach to kill, not to die. Not that I'm afraid to die. I've been tortured before, once or twice. I always came out alive. And even if I don't, I'm not going down without a fight.

   There's only a few things I like, love even in this world. But the main two would have to be my knife, and my sister. My knife, something I received when I was just five years old. Then there's my sister, she hates me though. Like a lot. Not that I blame her. I haven't heard from her since I first joined, not that she really talked to me much before I left either.. That was when I turned eighteen. I'll be twenty two in a couple months.

   I do get letters, from dad and sometimes my mom. They tell me how she is and what not. I heard about her new boyfriend. Dad says he's a rather odd fellow, but I was happy for her. That was till dad told me they broke up, and she went into a state of constant depression. The letter was.. very detailed. Told me she was waking him up by literally screaming for dear life in the middle of the night. It hurt me, almost enough to call off the mission I was on at the time but my father knew the delicacy, talking me into carrying it out. He wants me home, I know he does but he knew I'd also have hated myself for not finishing my job, letting down our country. Him.. So he assured me he'd handle it, that I can help cheer her up once I had completed the mission. Saying maybe I could finally take some time off and visit home.

I've always cared for my sister, she just... well she wasn't able to see it.