Field of Vision

Chapter 10: On the Offensive

The building, unfortunately, collided with Wilson. It groaned, the damaged roof probably irreparable. Oh well, this was Narien turf. Well, not for long, but, for now, it was fine. The same could not be said for Wilson, the Alpha Sniper, the black-haired, emotionless, cool person everyone likes. The guy that's a Narien traitor that defected to the Kunden Alliance. The guy that's a sniper. The sniper. The sniper. That's... that's pretty much why people liked him.

Liked. Traitor's really don't fit in either society, although they get a taste for how it is in both, it isn't exactly a desirable position to be in. He regretted every minute of the day he had to point his gun at Nicholas... and the day he had to pull the trigger. How he'd even gotten himself in this mess, it was beyond him. All he really cared about now was not dying. Not, preferably. Wilson wasn't a praying man, but even then, he believed that whatever god, gods, goddess, or goddesses he requested help from, would probably spite him and give him the opposite. And asking for the opposite was too tricky. If it worked at all.

Patrick slapped him, his already-open eyes blinked from the sting. "Your legs are broke. Trashed. It'll take months for them to recover. And Kunden'll probably just kill ya off anyway. Best keep it concealed."

His eyes widened in terror (about a millimeter larger) and he tried flexing his legs. They were just fine. Just sore. Soar. Sore. Hah. Ha ha. C'mon, stay sane for another five years, brain...

He felt his head clear up, and he smiled. It looked more like a predator's cruel, hunting smile, when they knew they had won, but it was something. And it was lightning short.

He picked himself up, looking around for his weapon. He tried to strap it around his shoulders, but the strap had torn off on impact. Also, part of the barrel was bent. He unscrewed the front of it and held it regularly, in ready position.

Patrick nodded. "Alright then, Kunden should be here soon. We just survive 'til then."

"Why are you talking like that," Wilson whispered as he got up to a crouch, his vision scanning over the town through the scope. "Nariens learned to speak fully and clearly, clearly, you've forgotten." He nudged Patrick, smiling.

"That was a joke!" Patrick hissed, surprised beyond belief.

Wilson drew his dead expression again. He nodded towards his partner. "It's a once-a-year thing, when it seems like I'm going to die."

"That happens a lot more than once a year," he muttered, still smiling.

Wilson gazed through the scope, examining the surroundings once more. Patrols were scattered, but they were all concentrated on this side of town, the part facing Kunden. The next pass. Kunden had better push Nara back and start reclaiming its land, I want to have my home town in better hands by the end of this.

The eye that wasn't pressed against the lense of his scope was checking the near vicinity. Physical and mental manipulation to achieve multiple goals, or multi-tasking. Very important if you're going to be peering into one world at a time, never checking your back.

Spotting the bots from before searching the adjacent building, Wilson went from his stomach to a crouch. He pointed at them, nodding at Patrick. "Let's take them out before Kunden gets here."

He shook his head, muttering, "That would draw attention back to us."

"Which would make Kunden's surprise attack more effective, drawing away the guards from their defensive positions." Wilson's logical input was unnerving, to risk yourself for the good of the cause you served. That was Patrick's thought, anyhow. Wilson, on the other hand, just ran his instructor's words through his head repeatedly. If you pack enough ammo and you never miss, your enemy should never be within a mile of range. Well, then why were they doing recon, out here in the field. In fact, Wilson should've died by now.