Participants
| Scene Title | Death Above |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Someone has a scavenging expedition in their sights. |
| Date | November 13, 2011 |
Ruins of New York City
CHA-CHUNK
The sound of the bolt action chamber locking back into place reverberates across the rooftops, blending into the deafening sound of the rifle shot that had preceded it. It had been getting a workout as of late, her rifle. The most it has in months. Through her scope, she watches as two figures, indeterminate of gender through the hazmat suits they wear, scatter from the blown apart upper half of their comrade as it falls silently to the streets. They don't scream, they just scatter.
Impassive, she watches them through the rain, through her scope. A held breath is released, heart rate steady as she tries to tune out the sound of the falling rain echoing off the dead world around her. One of them ducks into a building. Smart, probably. Or at least, it would seem that way at first.
She allows herself a small, momentary smile, gone by the time she turns her rifle towards the building. She watches through the scope. Waits. As they pass by a window, she inhales a deep breath, focusing on the view down the scope. She waits, and then she pulls the trigger again. The muzzles flashes bright, and without a second thought, she pulls back the bolt action lever and ejects the shell within.
The wall explodes apart on impact, her shot catching her target in a leg - what used to be a leg. A woman's scream echoes through the empty buildings, crying out for help in her last moments before shock sets in. Another shell is loaded into the chamber, the bolt slide back into place and locked again. That would be enough. The woman wouldn't be getting up again, in any sense.
Turning her attention back to the empty road, she looks for the third of them. Perhaps they had been smart enough to keep moving, to stay out of sight. She could wait.
Next to her, a radio crackles. Picking up a headset, she slips it on, turning on the receiver.
"What."
She remains silent as the voice on the other end chatters into her ear, eye kept level down her scope.
"Two more."
A beat.
"A third. Like usual."
She lets out her held breath.
"No, Ryans."
A small grimace, and she rises up from her rifle, looking down at it before she pulls it closer to her.
"Soon. Give my regards to Lord Volken."
Rising to her feet, she looks at the shells tossed out on the roof around her, picking them up to place in a bag for recycling.
"Dolukhanov out."
The radio static cuts out, the receiver switched off as she tosses the headset into the bag with the shells. Hefting her rifle up with a grunt, she scans the rooftops. She needed to get back to her nest before nightfall. She needed time to prepare, and time to plan.
After all, there is much to do.