Nothing

Thirteen

There had to be a reason.

The Sniper could tell. He wasn't stupid, even if he was exposed to so much information within a short amount of time and rather confused.

Why would they introduce him - a complete stranger, who could very easily be one of the dreaded Death Wolves - the people who decided that they did not like the order in this new world that had been born after the invasion, and decided to create their own 'country' - to their forces, where he could work his way up and bring them down from the inside?

Of course, he wouldn't actually do that, but just a thought.

He paced on the balcony where the AA guns were. Vani had introduced him to them earlier, and taught him how to fire and aim. Not that he had to actually do any firing, of course, as air raids were extremely rare.

The Sniper considered his options. Perhaps they wanted to use him, as a spy? But how would they use him for spying? He was good at keeping quiet, but the aliens were even better with security. It would be near impossible to sneak a man upon one of their shuttles.

Or, they might not trust him after all. It was a possibility, but the Sniper doubted it. Perhaps paranoia, or distrust. He didn't know, after all.

A light glaze of snow began to fall. He stopped pacing and looked into the nearly fogged up skies. Then he looked down again, placing his hands on the railings and wrapping his gloved hands around it. Despite wearing gloves, they weren't all that good.

Then, he shifted his view to the tree line. Why, he didn't know. He was bored, he decided. He longed for adventure.

But not what he saw at the trees.

His heart dropped as he spotted the thing; the strange, metal beasts. Only one, but two riders on it, seemingly staring directly at him. But they couldn't see him, surely.

He turned around to hear a group of heavy boots colliding with the floor. Soldiers. Trot was quickly walking behind them, followed by a different, masked soldier this time. He didn't know who this was.

Trot, without stopping, called out; "You'd better follow me. Husky has returned, and it's not looking too good. Base's on high alert."

He continued off, and when the a Sniper stood still, he yelled over his shoulder, "by, 'you'd better follow me', that means, you WILL follow me!"

The Sniper picked up his weapon. "Uh- Yes, sir." He quickly snapped to his senses, chasing after the group.

They couldn't see him.

Could they?