08-31-2019, 08:38 AM
Jonestown, Bjeorg
July 30th, 1991 - 7:22 AM
The NBI assassin quietly ascended the final flight of steps in the tall building across the road from Smith's bunker. She had been surveying the building all night was certain that now was the time to take position. They had finished dumping all sensitive data on the road and smashing it with every assortment of hammers. The Zamastanians could begin their attack at any moment. If Smith was ever going to leave this was the time.
She opened the door upon reaching the top of the steps and walked out onto the roof of the building. This was where she would set up as it was the ideal location. It was an easy shot from the rooftop to the front door of the closed fishing store that the bunker sat under. She could also easily see the direction back at least 400m in each direction from her vantage point.
The assassin walked to the side of the roof facing the street and opened a suitcase. The metal of a 50 caliber sniper rifle glinted in the sun. She attached a bipod to the bottom of the rifle and chambered a hollow point round. There would be no surviving a direct hit from a 50 caliber hollow point. The trigger safety was clicked off by highly professional hands. Even though a kill was imminent, the assassin hardly flinched at the thought of taking a life.
She did a test run with her finger off the trigger and went through the procedures of taking the shot. She would have to adjust for bullet drop, moving targets, and potential obstructions such as body guards. That last bit didn't trouble her much, multiple bodies were no match for the ammunition she was using.
A motorcade of 3 large black SUVs suddenly rolled into view. This could be Smith's ride the assassin thought to herself. She made a couple final adjustments to her scope before lifting the gun to her shoulder and looking into the eyepiece.
The windows had been blacked out but she could still make out large black figures and dark appendages, presumably soldiers and their weapons. The SUVs slowed down significantly as they approached the store/bunker. Finally, the SUVs came to a dead stop and doors began to open. Suit and tie clad men exited the vehicles menacingly. The assassin trained her weapon on the front door.
Suddenly, an unarmed man came running out of the building towards the passenger side of the first SUV. All the while he was screaming at the top of his lungs, "Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith it isn't safe for you to come here! You must leave."
The assassin was dumbfounded. Had she been thinking that Smith was in the bunker bellow the shop while he was actually elsewhere? Why was he coming to a potential war zone? It took only a split second for these questions to open uncertainties. Maybe he had sent a decoy that she accidentally followed instead. It was amazing what the human mind could come up with to justify itself when presented with contradictory evidence. She began remembering events differently. She was suddenly extremely confused. She had a thousand questions and only one answer. She would need to take the shot now.
The door to the SUV opened and a man wearing a suit exited with his head down. He approached the man with a look of utter confusion. Things simply didn't add up.
Mark was shocked to see a man screaming "Mr. Smith!" at him. Was this supposed to be a white flag of surrender? This was completely unexpected. Mark was a smart man though, it only took him a millisecond to piece together what was going on.
Mark dove to the ground and screamed "Sniper!" A loud Bang rang out through the morning air. Mark felt a white hot flash of pain in his chest for a second. He turned slowly on his side to see his men turn to the source of the shot and begin shooting. It was funny, he hadn't even made it to the ground yet. He was simply on his knees.
The world seemed to go into slow motion for Mark as the shots rang out. Odd? It seemed the pavement was swimming. The pain in his chest suddenly turned to a tingling as Mark felt his body limply begin to sag to the left. Mark, the mysterious anti-hero of the Bjeorg underground independence movement, was dead before he hit the ground. His body rolled over, ultimately resting spread-eagled on the warm pavement.
The assassin also realized her mistake all to soon after the deed was done. Both Smith and the man she had just shot wore suits and had salt and pepper hair. That was where the similarities ended. This man was taller and a bit thinner than Smith. This man also had a far more angular face.
The assassin cursed loudly for a moment before realizing that an immediate abort was necessary. She dumped the lighter fluid all over her spot and packed up her rifle quickly. As she ran for the back of the building's roof she ignited and subsequently threw a flare onto the lighter fluid pile. She would have to do the deed another day.
As bullets began to impact all over the building's front facade, a slim figure quietly descended the building's back fire escape. She would be out of the town in five minutes. five minutes was likely less time than it would take for the flies to start arriving at the dead corpse of Mark. His body would still be fresh on the pavement.
July 30th, 1991 - 7:22 AM
The NBI assassin quietly ascended the final flight of steps in the tall building across the road from Smith's bunker. She had been surveying the building all night was certain that now was the time to take position. They had finished dumping all sensitive data on the road and smashing it with every assortment of hammers. The Zamastanians could begin their attack at any moment. If Smith was ever going to leave this was the time.
She opened the door upon reaching the top of the steps and walked out onto the roof of the building. This was where she would set up as it was the ideal location. It was an easy shot from the rooftop to the front door of the closed fishing store that the bunker sat under. She could also easily see the direction back at least 400m in each direction from her vantage point.
The assassin walked to the side of the roof facing the street and opened a suitcase. The metal of a 50 caliber sniper rifle glinted in the sun. She attached a bipod to the bottom of the rifle and chambered a hollow point round. There would be no surviving a direct hit from a 50 caliber hollow point. The trigger safety was clicked off by highly professional hands. Even though a kill was imminent, the assassin hardly flinched at the thought of taking a life.
She did a test run with her finger off the trigger and went through the procedures of taking the shot. She would have to adjust for bullet drop, moving targets, and potential obstructions such as body guards. That last bit didn't trouble her much, multiple bodies were no match for the ammunition she was using.
A motorcade of 3 large black SUVs suddenly rolled into view. This could be Smith's ride the assassin thought to herself. She made a couple final adjustments to her scope before lifting the gun to her shoulder and looking into the eyepiece.
The windows had been blacked out but she could still make out large black figures and dark appendages, presumably soldiers and their weapons. The SUVs slowed down significantly as they approached the store/bunker. Finally, the SUVs came to a dead stop and doors began to open. Suit and tie clad men exited the vehicles menacingly. The assassin trained her weapon on the front door.
Suddenly, an unarmed man came running out of the building towards the passenger side of the first SUV. All the while he was screaming at the top of his lungs, "Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith it isn't safe for you to come here! You must leave."
The assassin was dumbfounded. Had she been thinking that Smith was in the bunker bellow the shop while he was actually elsewhere? Why was he coming to a potential war zone? It took only a split second for these questions to open uncertainties. Maybe he had sent a decoy that she accidentally followed instead. It was amazing what the human mind could come up with to justify itself when presented with contradictory evidence. She began remembering events differently. She was suddenly extremely confused. She had a thousand questions and only one answer. She would need to take the shot now.
The door to the SUV opened and a man wearing a suit exited with his head down. He approached the man with a look of utter confusion. Things simply didn't add up.
Mark was shocked to see a man screaming "Mr. Smith!" at him. Was this supposed to be a white flag of surrender? This was completely unexpected. Mark was a smart man though, it only took him a millisecond to piece together what was going on.
Mark dove to the ground and screamed "Sniper!" A loud Bang rang out through the morning air. Mark felt a white hot flash of pain in his chest for a second. He turned slowly on his side to see his men turn to the source of the shot and begin shooting. It was funny, he hadn't even made it to the ground yet. He was simply on his knees.
The world seemed to go into slow motion for Mark as the shots rang out. Odd? It seemed the pavement was swimming. The pain in his chest suddenly turned to a tingling as Mark felt his body limply begin to sag to the left. Mark, the mysterious anti-hero of the Bjeorg underground independence movement, was dead before he hit the ground. His body rolled over, ultimately resting spread-eagled on the warm pavement.
The assassin also realized her mistake all to soon after the deed was done. Both Smith and the man she had just shot wore suits and had salt and pepper hair. That was where the similarities ended. This man was taller and a bit thinner than Smith. This man also had a far more angular face.
The assassin cursed loudly for a moment before realizing that an immediate abort was necessary. She dumped the lighter fluid all over her spot and packed up her rifle quickly. As she ran for the back of the building's roof she ignited and subsequently threw a flare onto the lighter fluid pile. She would have to do the deed another day.
As bullets began to impact all over the building's front facade, a slim figure quietly descended the building's back fire escape. She would be out of the town in five minutes. five minutes was likely less time than it would take for the flies to start arriving at the dead corpse of Mark. His body would still be fresh on the pavement.