Marksman 2: Chapter 2: Shadows of the Past

Marksman 2: Chapter 2: Shadows of the past.

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Italian night club.
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Soulless stood out front of the night club. His jacket made him look like a bouncer for the club, but he was really waiting to meet his informant. He needed something particular for this mission. He patted his chest carefully, making it seem like he was itching something, and felt to make sure that his CZ-75 SP-01 was on hand. He was reassured when he felt the lump in the coat pocket over his heart.

The night air bit at him as he waited, hands shoved in his pockets. He had no hat or sunglasses, and he had dyed his hair blonde recently to make sure he wasn't recognized easily by any of his friends. He was supposed to be dead.

Soon, a young man with a hoodie on, hood flipped up over his head, turned off a street onto the same sidewalk as Soulless. Soulless had not turned his head or body to spot the person, but rather pinpointed him with his peripheral vision.

Soon the young man came closer, and eventually stopped next to Soulless. “Half first, then the info and drug." He said gruffly.

Soulless passed over a small stack of cash. The young man took it carefully, slipping it into his hoodie pocket. “There's a servant's uniform out back in a bag behind the dumpster. Rear entrance is the one that looks like it leads to a boiler area." The guy reached into a hoodie, and grabbed a small white plastic stick. Passing it over, he said, “Sprinkle a little bit of this into food or drink, and whoever gets it will be dead seconds after the first bit." The guy looked around. “Good luck. This guy is bad news."

Soulless nodded, passing over the rest of the cash. “He's tough. That's why I get paid so well."

The guy nodded and continued on his path down the street. Soulless turned and headed into the alley to the rear of the nightclub.

This job had been educational to Soulless about the black market. He could get a lot of things that would make his life as a veteran-turned-hitman easier, but he preferred to get only what he needed.

Soulless rounded another corner and found a dumpster. Peeking behind, a black cloth bag was wedged behind it. Soulless pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a tuxedo shirt, pants, and a pair of dress shoes.

“You gotta be kidding me." Muttered Soulless.

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DMZ, Korean Boarder.
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Rock crept forward along the forest floor. “Two contacts with SKS rifles nine o'clock."

Titanium moved forward. Once again, they had their suppressors mounted on their M4A4 assault rifles. Rock lifted the rifle to take aim on one of the North Koreans. They were part of a loose circle of sentries for a camp. The camp was built from tents and some makeshift lean-to's. The lean-to's were filled with ammunition and weapons. Omega was here to figure out what sort of weapons.

“Titanium, you can dip into that hut on your left and take a peek while taking cover." Rock whispered. It was just the two of them, without any sniper cover, or MG cover from Dark. He and Evil were away investigating another similar camp.

“Got it. Watch these guys for me." Titanium muttered. Moving in a crouch, he snuck into the hit.

The tent was filled with some quality Arms. M16 rifles and various hand grenades. A mortar dominated one of the corners, and and old World War era anti-tank rocket gun was in a box.

Titanium flipped through a couple of the shelves as quietly as he could. “A lot of American made stuff here." He murmured into his mic.

“Some of it was captured from that supply depot raid last week I'm guessing." Rock replied. “Other than that, some of the guns are unlicensed copies."

“Another hut over here. Filled with Kalashnikov rifles." Titanium said, moving on to another one. “There's a ton of arms here."

“Mark the coordinates and let's get out of here." Rock said. “We're gonna be found."

Titanium grabbed his GPS and marked the supply camp's coordinates. Later, they could call in an air strike, and the whole thing would be torn apart by JDAMS.

Titanium finished and grabbed his rifle in its sling. Checking himself, he made sure none of the Koreans were looking, and escaped into the death of forest green around the camp, quiet as an alley cat.

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Italian night club.
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Soulless felt naked wearing the suit, but it helped him blend perfectly. No one batted an eye at a scarred guy in a suit in a gangster's nightclub.

The servants entrance entered into the kitchen area. It was absolute chaos. Waiters and waitresses in various different clothing were scrambling to manage all the orders.

Immediately, Soulless was intercepted by one of the cooks. “Someone has to take these drinks up the the boss's study, and we're undermanned. Can you take care of it?"

“Sure thing." Soulless grunted. The waiter nodded thankfully, turning around and picking up a tray with three glasses of champagne on it. He handed it to Soulless gingerly, and gave him directions to the office. Soulless turned and exited the kitchen out the front door, tray in hand.

The nightclub was dark and lights were flashing everywhere. A dance floor dominated the center of the main area, covered in people. Too many to count.

Soulless made for one of the stairwells built into the wall leading up to the second level. He almost bumped into a man and woman chatting as they walked down the steps. He didn't pause to look at them, but they gawked at him and his scarring. His blonde hair probably made an impression too.

He made it to the second floor, where a large bar wrapped around the entire level. There was another set of steps leading through the ceiling, which was paneled with tinted glass. The gangster's study probably dominated the entire third floor, the glass being one-way visible.

Two club bouncers stood by a set of double doors. They nodded to Soulless, and opened the door for him. He nodded back and entered.

The study stretched across the entire ceiling area. The doorway was standing in the middle of nowhere, just...there. A desk with a computer sat against one wall, and in the center were several padded seats and a coffee table. The coffee table and seats were occupied by three people.

Soulless strode over calmly, balancing the tray in the palm of his hand, and, when the three people, two men, one woman, turned their heads to look at him. He reached onto the tray and grabbed one of the champagne glasses, handing it to the woman. She was blonde, with piercing gray eyes, dressed in a plain red dress. Her nails, painted black, were like talons. She accepted the drink but did not acknowledge Soulless.

The second man was more jovial. “Thank you, kind sir." He said, accepting the glass and beaming at Soulless. The smile was not returned. The man was dressed in a black suit with a yellow shirt, shoes shined to perfection, a yellow flower in his lapel.

Lastly, a man with dark hair and electric green eyes looked at Soulless. Soulless handed him the champagne, and there was a glimmer of amusement in the man's eyes. He was dressed in a dark leather jacket or unlike the one Soulless preferred, with jeans almost black in color, and lightweight boots. Soulless met his eyes for a brief moment. Cold icy blue versus electric green. Blonde, short hair versus black, longer hair. A face pockmarked by scars and burn marks against a perfect, undamaged face.

Then, Soulless turned, making back for the door. He thought he was home free, almost having drawn attention to himself in a bad way. Then, the blood in his veins turned to ice when the last man spoke.

“Wait a moment servant."

The man had no accent. He had matched the description Soulless had been provided, but he had been told the gangster was Spanish.

“I'd like to speak with you after we finish conducting our business here." The man said, standing. “I haven't seen you around here before."

Behind the gangster, his associates took sips of their champagne. Before entering the room, Soulless had stumbled, performing a perfect sleight of hand. The capsule containing the deadly poison was spread among the three glasses. Two were being consumed as he watched. Now all he needed was his actual target to drink his and he could escape.

“Are you new to here?" The man asked.

“Hired recently." Soulless rasped.

“Interesting. What's funny enough is that I personally hire all of my employees, and I don't remember hiring a blond-haired blue-eyed man with scars or a rasp." The man chuckled. He then turned back to his associates...

...and found the lady sprawled backwards, the man pitching forward, their champagne glasses on the way to the floor. The gangster's eyes widened, and his mouth hung open. His eyes then narrowed, and he turned back to
Soulless, but it was too late.

The CZ-75 SP-01 had almost no recoil. The metal frame added lots of weight to the gun,The custom trigger broke the shot smoothly, the low profile night sights making aiming with Soulless' right hand easily and painless. The drink tray had been moved to Soulless' left hand. The threaded battle holding the suppressor for the handgun in place seamlessly. The gun had been purchased stock, and Soulless had put extra work and parts into it.

The gun fired the 9mm bullet through the rifles barrel and out the end of the suppressor. The bullet landed smack dab on the man's forehead, leaving a black little hole where the round penetrated his forehead. The man pitched sideways, dead, and landed spread eagle on the floor.

Soulless slid the pistol back into the jacket of the suit. He had positioned it under his arm so it wouldn't be revealing in the dark of the night club.

Readjusting the tie of the suit and checking that there was nothing revealing on him, he left the study.

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De-Militarization Zone, Korean Boarder.
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Evil lay with his eye to his scope on his M14 EBR. He was watching one of the camps way off in the distance, a few miles. He could see if clearly from the fires lit, which stood out in the dark. Next to him, Titanium was calling in the air strike that would demolish it.

“Bird's inbound." Titanium finished, setting down the satellite phone. Evil nodded. Now all they had to do was wait.

After a few minutes, a rumbling came. There was nothing on the horizon, but it grew louder. Soon, the ground was rumbling.

Then, there was a streak across the sky, and the camp went up in a ball of flame. Even from three miles away, Evil swore he could feel the heat.

“That's one down." Dark said, standing. “A whole lot more to go."

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Italy
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Soulless had made it out of the nightclub. He ditched the suit immediately and tugged on his back T-shirt and black leather jacket. He rearranged his CZ-75 and checked that his throwing knife was secure in his boot. He had a flip-out baton slid in a sheath up his left sleeve on his arm. He could reach up, draw it, and engage it in almost the same motion. He also had a combat knife on his left breast. His CZ was slung in an underarm holster on the left side too. The jacket was made so that the outline of the handgun and knife weren't suspicious.

Soulless exited the alley. The club was closing, and he began to hear the wail of police sirens in the distance. They were probably headed here, due to the dead bad guys in the top of the building.

He continued down the street. The night was cool, and he kept moving. He had a vehicle two miles from here. He had inserted on foot to avoid being dropped off and loitering. It made it look as if he had been walking and waiting outside the night club for a ride.

He rounded a street corner and found himself face-to-face with two hood rats.

They were obviously drunk. They started pushing Soulless around and yelling at him in slurred Italian.

Soulless backed up. A third had joined the two out of nowhere. He was drunk too. All were dressed in filthy hoodies and jeans. Soulless was shoved into an alleyway.

“You don't have to be doing this." Soulless said, putting his hands out calmly. His icy blue eyes flicked back and forth between the three hoods.

In the back of the hoods' minds, they had a nagging voice telling them to not mess with this guys, or else they would get hurt. Badly.

They shook those voices away. Here was a medium sized man dressed in an expensive jacket, helpless. He was easy pickings. They would take his wallet and jacket to sell for their next fix. One of them swung a fist at him.

Soulless reached up and caught the fist in his right hand. When the drunk hood gaped at him, he smiled gruesomely, and twisted the arm. The hood squealed, and Soulless smashed his own fist into the exposed gut of the hood. All the air exploded from his lungs, and Soulless shoved the hood backward to his friends.

Now the three of them were wary. One of them grabbed a blunt piece of wood from the ground. Another produced a large knife. The third guy was on his knees on the ground, nursing his wrist.

The two hoods stepped forward.

“I don't have time for this." Soulless growled. Reaching up his left sleeve, he grabbed and drew the flip-out baton, engaging it as one of the hoods came at him, blunt 2x4 piece of wood raised. He brought the baton down on the hood's collarbone, the metal crunching into the shoulder. The hood stumbled, his arm rendered almost useless. Next, the baton slammed into the side of the hood's knee. Reversing the baton, he smashed it into the ribs. All of this happened in less than two seconds. Aiming a kick on the hood's bad shoulder, Soulless kicked him backwards. Then, the one with the knife came at Soulless.

Soulless automatically switched the baton to his left hand, catching the knife on it as it came down, aimed for Soulless' throat. Taking a step forward, he collided with the hood, who stumbled back, Soulless' combat knife buried in his sternum. Soulless hadn't even remembered drawing it.

The third one with the hurt wrist had recovered, and now came up holding a handgun. Soulless timed it and ducked, right hand reaching down to his boot. The gunshot was deafening in the alleyway, but the bullet impacted in the brick wall somewhere behind Soulless. He came up with his throwing knife in his hand. Flicking his wrist, it sailed into the throat of the guy, staying there.

It was over.

Soulless bent over and retrieved his combat knife. He wiped the blade on the hoodie of the corpse and re-sheathed it. He did the same with the throwing knife, and replaced it in his boot. He closed the baton and slid it into its sheath on his forearm under the coat sleeve.

He began to exit the alley way, but stopped, his sniper sense tingling. Something was off slightly.

He whipped around, drawing his CZ-75 in one motion. The suppressor was still attached to the barrel, and he fired the round directly into the third hood that he had taken down with his baton. The round hit him in the chest and punctured a lung, and the hood dropped his revolver.

Soulless holstered the handgun again. He finally exited the alleyway. As soon as he got around the corner of the street, he heard cop cruisers squealing. Breaking into a jog, he ducked into a different alleyway and jumped onto a Dumpster, then a flat-topped roof. He lay there, back on the roof, he heard he cruiser pull up. There was yelling in Italian, then car doors slamming, and the police pulled away again.

Soulless breathed again.

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DMZ, Korean Boarder
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“Sarge, the bird missed that camp over there." Rock said, pointing. “Isn't that their artillery store?"

“Damn Air Force." Evil muttered. “The fighter was out of fuel and JDAMs anyways. We just get to do it ourselves."

“Oh boy." Dark said. “Storming a camp of baddies in the middle of the dark, in territory they know better than us, where they have enough artillery to level a city. Sounds plausible for sure."

“We won't take the attrition path." Titanium. “Nothing straight up. Guerilla warfare."

“Let's do it." Evil said.

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Soon, the team was set up in a square around the camp. They were busy searching to make sure they had an accurate count of the patrols and guards inside the camp. Several large artillery batteries sat in a row, barrels gleaming in the moonlight. Several racks of shells for the batteries were stacked fifteen feet high to the right of them.

Dark crouched behind the bush, leaving his M249 SAW on the ground next to it. He kept his hands wrapped tightly around the grip of the Glock 19. The front of the barrel was weighed down by the suppressor. “I have two over here I can take easily." He murmured into his mic.

Evil adjusted the rifle to view Dark's position. “Take them." He replied.

Dark raised the handgun, firing one round for each of the guards. Perfect headshots. The guards fell down, dropping their rifles. One of their Kalashnikov rifles crashed down on a crate , cracking it. The crack was as loud as a gunshot.

Evil moved the scope picture to the front of a tent. A guard wth an M16 was coming towards Dark to check out the commotion.

Evil set the scope crosshairs. The guard's back was turned to him at an angle. “Cmon, turn to me buddy."

The guard glanced over his shoulder and moved in between a pair of tents. His M16 was in his hands held low.

“Dark, don't make a sound. One tango right on top of you." Evil whispered. In his peripheral vision, Evil saw Dark freeze.

And then, just before turning around the corner to where Dark was, the guard turned.

“There you go." Evil muttered happily, and pulled the trigger.

The guard dropped fast. He hit the ground, M16 clattering to the dirt. “Clear Dark." Evil whispered.

Dark slid around the corner of the tent with his Glock 19 ready. He ducked into the tent and found a guard sleeping. One knife stroke later, that guard wasn't waking up anytime soon. “East side clear." Dark murmured into his mic.

Rock was next. Firing two rounds into a pair of guards from his suppressed M4A4, he advanced quickly.

“Rock, four by the arty batteries at ten o'clock." Evil directed. Rock signaled his acknowledgement with his left hand, keeping his rifle up with his left.

Rock rounded the corner of a tent and took a headshot, then transitioned targets, firing three body shots on one. He was able to put another two rounds on the third guy when the fourth and final one got his hands on his AK, raising it. A spike of fear raced through Rock's veins, and he snapped his rifle on target. The sentry dropped. Rock hadn't fired.

“You're clear Rock." Evil said over the comm. Rock signaled and took cover behind an artillery piece.

“Titanium, your turn. You have to be fast. The other guards are going to notice their buddies' absence soon." Evil directed. “Weapons free."

“Understood." Titanium said. He rose like a ghost from behind his bush, rifle at the ready. He advanced into a tent, where a guard sat cleaning an SKS rifle. Titanium flicked to full auto and fired a short burst, blowing the hostile backward off his stool. The suppressor mitigated the sound, but a guard sleeping on a bunk snapped awake. Titanium rounded on him, firing a burst into him too. A third guard stepped into the tent, and Titanium fired the last of his magazine into the Korean. He fell inwards into the tent. Titanium dragged him forward into the tent, leaning his rifle on the post in the center, and removed his empty magazine, replacing it in his harness, and ramming in a new one. Leaning out to check on where the rest of the guard's were, his heart sank.

Titanium leaned back into the tent again. “Evil, they found bodies. I'm pinned down in the northern tent."

“I hear you. Give me a second. Lay down fire when I say."

Titanium clicked his comm in response.

Evil set his crosshairs on a guard and dropped him, moving to another. There were five in total. He managed to land another shot to kill a second, when the remaining three broke formation and ran for cover. “Now!" He hissed into his microphone. Rock began to put fire on two Koreans hiding behind steel ammunition crates, the rounds making sounds like coins landing on steel plates. One of the guards returned fire with an AK, but Evil couldn't land a shot before he was back in cover.

Now Dark had joined the fight, holding his M249 tight in his hands. The rifle spat rounds rapidly, ricocheting off the ammunition crates.

The third guy had disappeared completely. Evil scanned for him, but he couldn't find him anywhere.

One of the Koreans behind the ammo crates prepared a grenade. It was an old World War era stick grenade, and the Korean soldier was fiddling with it. Evil made a split second decision.

Sighting up, he set the crosshairs hastily and pulled the trigger. The round hit the stick grenade and the grenade exploded, taking out the two soldiers behind the ammo crates.

There was a silence.

“Evil?" Dark asked.

“I'm here."

“Did you just shoot a grenade out of an enemy's hand, like what happens in movies?"

“Yes, in fact I did."

“You, my friend, are officially a badass."

Evil laughed. “It was just luck."

The team had emerged from cover and were sweeping the area. “Everyone accounted for?" Rock asked.

“All but that one guy." Dark said. “He's around here somewhere."

Evil remained in his perch. He kept scanning for the last man.

Then, he found him.

The last guy raised an SKS from behind a bush, sighting. Evil set his crosshairs and pulled the trigger, but it was too late.

Rock fell, his head snapping back. He hit the ground and didn't move.

“Rock!" Evil screamed.

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End of Chapter 2.
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Thanks for reading guys, you're rockstars if you read this to the end. Chapter 3 will be a little more heated as we bring the characters closer again, and reintroduce an old character.

Tags:

@DarkTitan_
@MR_EVIL_OVERLORD
@TheTitaniumTitan
@RockTomb
@randomcitizen1

 

Thanks Dark, means a lot that you read through the whole thing.

Aren't I a badass too? I mean, not like I won a 3v1 or anything, plus escaped a club full of gangsters...

 

I try to make everyone equal but it just ends up following the snipers around, which is kind of what I base my stories around. I've always had a thing for snipers, and just sniping in general.

 

Sikee