Book Marksman 2: Chapter 3: Crash Course

Marksman 2: Chapter 3: Crash Course

Soulless the snow jacket over his bulletproof vest. He then checked that his heavy-duty pants were in place, adjusted the straps on his knee-high all-purpose snow boots, and pushed the strap of the rifle case higher onto his collarbone. Zipping up the jacket, he tugged his gloves onto his hands and entered his garage.

Inside were a couple trucks, a four wheel drive ATV, a couple four-wheelers, and three snow machines. He picked his fastest snowmobile and climbed on, yanking on the recoil starter. The engine growled to life, and, hopping on and pressing the garage door control to raise the door, Soulless revved the engine and entered the blizzard outside of his home.

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24 hours earlier.
Secure facility, Alaska
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“Sorry to bring you here on such short notice, sergeant." Random said, walking with Evil through the halls of the complex. They were in the underground portion, dedicated to R&D and black ops. “This just couldn't wait."

“I was surprised to hear we were being pulled out of the DMZ early." Evil said. “We were making good progress disrupting enemy supply lines."

“I'm aware. We've inserted a new team to finish up what you started. I need you and your team specifically for this job." Random said. “A CIA office was contacted by an anonymous person offering information on the gang killings that have been occurring internationally as of late."

“Are we doing a pickup?"

“Yes. CIA has gained intel about a possible hit on the informant. He's based in Alaska, and a hitman has been traced to that general area. What spooks the CIA is that they can't find out anything about the assassin. So, they called for help."

“We'll do it." Evil confirmed.

“Great. The informant is hunkered down in a cabin far away, and needs extraction. A blizzard is moving into that area, so we have to get him out fast. A helo will try to make it in, but you'll probably have to get him out on snow machines. Time is of the essence, so no **** ups. Got it?" Random asked. Evil nodded. “Good. You have to get moving immediately. As far as we know, the hitman hasn't been contacted yet, but that could change at any time."

“I'm on it." Evil said.


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Alaska, remote location.
24 hours since briefing.
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Titanium yanked on the handlebars of the Polaris snowmobile, swerving to avoid a depression in the deep snow. The team was crossing an open expanse of the Alaskan tundra, making good time on the way to their rendezvous point.

“All right" Came Evil's voice over the comm channel. It was directly in in Titanium's ear, the microphone built in the the full-face helmet he was wearing. “This is going to be a hot extract. There's a storm moving in on the position of an informant we've been ordered to collect and escort. On top of that, the guy has been marked for death, so we can expect some sort of opposition. This VIP has some really important intel, so we can't **** this one up. Understood?"

“What's the intel on?" Titanium asked.

“Unknown. CIA spooks want him, so we get him."

“Understood." Titanium said. He was squeezing every last ounce of speed out of the snowmobile, as were the other members of Omega team.

Reaching over his chest while keeping his hand on the throttle of the machine, Titanium adjusted the sling of his Arctic M4A4. The rifle was specially modified for operations in cold climates that would wreak havoc on weapons. He had full confidence that it would fire if needed.

Evil dipped down lower on the hill. Rock was close behind him, Dark a little ways back. Titanium was last in the procession of snowmobiles.

“Wind and snow's picking up." Rock commented. Dark and Titanium had grown up in Alaska, living in the city of Anchorage. That had been warmer than this. Titanium had a brief memory of Soulless, who had grown up and lived only 365 miles awY from Anchorage in Fairbanks. It was colder there. Much colder.

“I know. We have to make this quick." Evil replied. “We're getting close to the cabin. Our informant is there."

They continued moving across the mountain. Titanium swerved around a lone tree, throwing up a wave of snow.

Then, he looked up the mountain slope towards a line of trees.

“Contact!" Titanium yelled into his mic. “Four riders inbound!"

He saw Evil's head turn up the slope, where four people were charging down on snowmobiles of their own directly at them. The machines, dark black, stood out clearly against the white backdrop of the snow. A few moments later, Titanium could see the outline of assault rifles on the backs of the riders.

Titanium reached down to his thigh and grabbed his Glock 19.

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Elsewhere in Alaska
4 hours since departure from base house.
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Soulless gunned the engine of the Polaris up the short slope through the woods. The rifle bounced against his back, and he shifted it a little. He glanced down to check his handgun was still secure to the side of the snowmobile. The strap was over the handle, holding it there.

Soulless exited the woods and drove onto a small hill, stopping the snowmobile. He glanced over to the west, and spotted the cabin that he had been sent coordinates to.

Shutting off the engine and hopping off, Soulless took the rifle case off his back, and popped it open in the snow. Inside was an Arctic Warfare Police rifle, or AWP. Soulless deployed the bipod and set the legs on the seat of the snowmobile. He plopped up the scope cover, and pulled out his laser range finder, pinging the cabin.

2100 meters. Over a mile.

Soulless glanced around, searching for a closer spot to the cabin. Nowhere.

“Guess this is it." Soulless said. “At least I brought the scope off the Barrett."

The Barrett's scope would give him a comfortable zoom at a mile. He would have to raise the crosshairs to make his shot a ton still.

Soulless grabbed the rifle and brought the stock to his shoulder.

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Nearby
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Titanium swerved hard up the hill, the snowmachine tilting at a dangerous angle. He was using the throttle with his left hand and his Glock with his right. One of the snowmobiling attackers zoomed by, and Titanium fired a pair of shots at the rear of the snowmobile. One of the rounds missed, the other punching out the taillight.

Titanium turned to face forward again, and found one of the attackers charging straight at him. Raising the Glock 19, he popped off two rounds into the chest of the attacker, who fell backwards off the snowmobile. The snowmobile slowed to a stop.

Evil, Dark, and Rock were busy juking and weaving. The attackers were using an assortment of weapons to attack. One of them fired a short SMG, possibly an Uzi or Mac, and Evil fired three rounds into them.

Titanium pulled past one of the bad guys at a high speed, Glock ready. He aimed and fired, the 9x19 round punching through the casing of the snowmobile and hitting the gas tank. The snowmobile expanded in a ball of light, flame, heat, and noise. The rider was thrown in the air.

A snow machine almost collided with Evil's, and he turned, firing a shot into the rider. The rider sagged in the seat slightly, but kept driving.

Titanium had timed it perfectly. His machine rammed the other machine. Since Titanium had the slope advantage, having driven down the slope head-on towards the snow machine. The impact was violent, the attacker's machine flipping in a barrel roll and tumbling down the mountain slope.

Titanium's machine, meanwhile, promptly flipped forward, tossing Titanium into the air, over the other machine, and down the slope. So, the snowmobile he had just sent into a barrel roll was now bearing down on him.

Scrambling to his feet, Titanium threw himself out of the path of the snowmobile. He then lay there, winded.

Evil pulled up next to him, looking up the mountain slope. “That was about a 30 foot throw. New record?" He asked smoothly.

Titanium chuckled weakly. Evil extended a hand down to help him onto his feet. “Your machine's ****ed. Hop on."

Titanium grabbed his hand and was hauled to his feet.

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Thirty minutes later
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Soulless relaxed his shoulder muscles, lowering the AWP. He had been watching the cabin for some time, doing Kentucky windage every few minutes to see how the elements were trying to screw him over. The blizzard was in full swing for the moment, and visibility was poor, but he kept intensely watching the cabin.

The blizzard was in full swing now, and visibility was poor. Snow lashed at Soulless' exposed head. He hadn't thrown on a mask or hat in his rush, and the snow and icy cold was nipping at him. He could push the feeling away though, having grown up in Alaska. There were times where the temperature had dropped to -40 below zero, and he had still been forced to go outside to work by his parents.

Soulless noted a small pause in the blizzard, and looked down the scope at the cabin again. He couldn't see through the windows, but he swore he saw a flicker of movement. Then the blizzard moved in again, and the visibility issue returned.

He relaxed again. There was no sun, so there wouldn't be a scope glint. He wouldn't need a suppressor. He was a little under a mile away, so pinpointing the shot would be nigh on impossible. His clothes were white, the AWP was caked in snow at this point, covering the green and black frame in a sort of camouflage. The snowmobile he was using had been painted white too. Everything was set.

Then, there was another lull in the roaring of the blizzard. And a sound reached his ears.

The engines of snowmobiles.

He checked quickly around him. Nothing. The sound was faint, but definite. Sighting up on the cabin again, he realized that there was a group of three snowmobiles, four riders, pulling into the cabin.

The target's extract.

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Evil pulled to a stop, and Titanium hopped off, removing his M4 from his back and cycling the bolt. He quickly jogged around behind and looked under the cabin, checking for IEDs and hidden people. “Foundation clear." He whispered.

Evil tugged on his winter cap, having removed his riding helmet. Titanium did the same. “There was some movement at the window when we pulled in. Someone's in there for sure."

Rock adjusted his coat under his Kevlar vest, making sure that the U.S flags on his chest and shoulder's were visible. “Shall we knock?" He asked.

“Assuming we don't get shot on entry." Dark muttered.

“Stack up." Evil ordered.

Titanium and Rock flanked the door. There were no steps, and the dot was even with the ground. Dark kneeled behind a snowmobile and aimed his M4A4. Evil kneeled in the open, aiming.

Titanium reached out with a fist and pounded on the door three times. Then he counted to 15. “No response or movement." He said.

“We can do it the hard way then." Evil said. “Give it a nice hard kick."

Titanium held his M4 across his chest and took a step back. He then stepped forward, and lifted his right foot to kick...

...and as he pushed it forward, the door opened. A bald man standing in the doorway had one hand on the doorknob, a protein bar in the other. He had a .44 magnum revolver on his hip. He was dressed in a heavy orange jacket, Carhart overalls, and bunny boots.

“You know you need a warrant for that, right?" He said smoothly, taking a bite of the protein bar.

“We don't use warrants." Rock said, stepping around and pushing the door open to step past the man. Titanium stepped in to. Dark covered the rear, and Evil walked in calmly.

“I'm Gerard." Gerard said. “And, judging by the fact that I'm still alive, you're my extract."

“Evil." Evil said, extending a hand. “This is Dark." Evil said, pointing. “Titanium's over there." He continued, pointing to Titanium in the corner. “And that's Rock." Rock nodded to Gerard.

“Welcome to my safe house." Gerard said, spreading his arms. In one corner was a crate of military rations, another corner a pile of weapons. An R700, an M16 with an acog scope and grenade launcher, a Remington 870 shotgun, and a Mac 11. “Isn't much, and I was in a hurry."

“Understandable." Evil said, turning. There was a Glock 34 on the counter next to a propane stove, and an AK-47 hung on the wall across from it. “Quite the armory though."

Gerard laughed. “I like to feel safe when I'm hiding out. Please, have a seat." He said, pointing to a table in the center of the room. Evil took a seat facing the door, leaning his M4A4 against the leg of the table, and setting his Glock 19 on the table. Gerard did the same with his revolver, along with his protein bar. Gerard was sitting in the little light flowing through the window. The shade had been pulled back to let light filter in. Gerard's bald head was shining.

“If I had a heat source I would use it, but again, in a hurry, and I'm trying to hide financially right now." Gerard said.

“Who's hunting you?" Evil asked. Rock and Dark had taken up positions against the rear wall behind Evil, and Dark was leaning against the wall next to the counter with the Glock and the propane stove. He was leaning against the wall, his M4 hanging in his sling, hands resting on the butt of the stock.

“You wouldn't know them." Gerard said coldly.

“You'd be surprised." Evil said.

“They're an up and coming PMC that poses a potential threat to the world. They hire ex special forces and military personnel and use them as an army. They come from diverse trades and branches, different countries and nations. Also, I have information on one of their hired killers, a potential recruit."

“Do you know who this person is?"

“All that I've confirmed is that he's the one being paid to hit all of these crime lords and kingpins. That Comumbian Narco? The Italian gun runner? All his doing. Word has it that he's ex U.S Special Forces too. Spectre Division." Gerard blurted out the last part quickly.

“Impossible." Evil said, folding his arms.

“How so?"

“Because me and these gentleman are Spectre Division operatives, and the only way you get out of Spectre Division is either a body bag or an operator protection program for retirees. And we track all of the retiree's activities." Evil said. “Whoever this hitman is, he isn't Spectre."

Gerard burst out laughing. He slammed his palm on the table. And he kept laughing.

“What's so funny?" Evil asked abruptly.

Gerard didn't respond. He kept laughing to the point he was wheezing, tears leaking out of his eyes.

Evil had enough. Standing up, he grabbed the Glock 19 off the table with one hand, the front of Gerard's jacket with the other. In one motion, he knocked Gerard's .44 Magnum off the table and pressed the Glock against the bottom of his jaw.

“I'm not playing games here." Evil whispered. “What is so sadistically funny that you have to laugh to the point of asphyxiation?"

Gerard stopped laughing, and looked into Evil's eyes. All he saw there was a cold fire burning intensely. He saw the eyes of a man who had no limits, who would do whatever it took to have his needs met, no matter the cost.

They were the eyes of a killer. A killer who would pull the trigger of the Glock shoved under his jaw right now, and not even blink from the concussive blast of the 9mm round inches from his face.

“Okay. Just let me down." Gerard said, his voice cracking. Evil let go of his jacket, and he fell backwards onto his seat. “CIA never told me you black ops guys were so rough." He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?" Evil said, having heard the entire sentence, reaching for the Glock again.

“Nothing!" Gerard shouted quickly, eyes on the hand just inches away from the Glock.

“Spill." Evil ordered.

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Mountain, nearby.
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Soulless noted another pause in the blizzard. The people below at the cabin had entered, and Soulless had not been able to identify them at this range. He saw them stacking up, but a wave of snow and sleet had interrupted his vision.

Now, he looked down the scope. He had heard no gunshots, so that meant that the informant was still alive, and Soulless still had a job to do. The snowmobiles were also still there.

He looked at the window, and saw a bald head gleaming in the light. He smiled. None of the men entering the cabin had all been wearing winter hats, and no one professional removed their headgear.

The informant. Sitting in the open.

Soulless checked his elevation. Lifting a finger, he checked the windage and adjusted. He began to settle into the shot.

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“You're really clueless aren't you?" Gerard asked. “Ever wondered what happens to the operatives declared dead who really aren't?"

“They reach out to Spectre and return to service." Evil replied.

“Partially. I mean those who resent their unit for not looking for them. Searching. Hauling them out of the fire, or getting them the extract or medivac they need." Gerard said. “This hitman is one such operative."

“So what you're saying is that we have a rogue operative, who's using his skills as a hired assassin, and he poses a potential threat?"

“You're spot on." Gerard said. “In fact, I think you might know them..."

Nothing else mattered. Evil was all ears. “Who?" He asked softly.

“What's your squad's callsign?" Gerard asked.

Evil hesitated. “Omega."

Gerard chuckled. “Oh you'd know him all right."

“Who?" Evil asked again, louder and more forceful this time."

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Soulless had his crosshairs set. All he could see was the cabin in the scope picture. The window was small, and he could still see the bald head through the wind.

Then, just then, the wind picked up, and the blizzard screwed his vision again.

Soulless didn't relax. He was set on his target now. If he moved, he would have to do all his estimation again. He was in his zone, and he would not move out of it until the kill was made.

Then, the blizzard stopped, and the wind dropped completely.

“Now." Soulless whispered.

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“He's one of the most deadly killers in the world. Expert marksman. Trained as special forces. Black ops and the like." Gerard said.

It couldn't be, thought Evil.

“He's had over a hundred successful missions, on the books or off."

No way, he continued.

“He's left a path of destruction and death across the globe. Originally a U.S Army recruit, moved into Delta Force. Once the Special Forces branch was created as a branch all by itself, he was brought out of Delta Force, and stuck into Omega Squad."

Impossible. He's dead.

“Soon he and his team were noted and picked up by Spectre Division. He and his team trained for a few months, then deployed. Captured on their first mission, they escaped by chance when a Delta Force team hit where they were being held. After that, they ran anti-terrorism patrols in San Diego, and participated in the first battle of the Second Korean War."

No. ****ing. Way. Evil's heart had stopped. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell it was him.

“Then, he was sent as a sole operator to a set of Korean missile platforms set to launch on key military areas in the U.S"

Oh God. No way. Impossible.

Gerard leaned forward. His nose was a centimeter away from Evil's. His brown eyes met Evil's green ones.

“It's Soulless."

Just then, the window on the cabin shattered, and there was a wet, slapping sound. Gerard pitched to the side, blood and gore spraying from the side of his head, and he fell to the floor. Dead as a stone.

Evil grabbed is Glock 19 and slammed it into his holster, grabbing his M4 too, flipping the table forward to use as cover. Dark took cover behind the counter, while Rock and Titanium took cover next to Evil, aiming their M4s at the door.

There was silence.

Then, the lone report of a rifle in the swirling wind.

Evil did the math. “That sniper has to be about a mile away. An impossible shot."

“I've only ever seen one shot from a mile away in person." Rock said. “And we all know who that is."

“Soulless." Evil whispered. “No way he's alive."

“Sounds like it. I just don't see any motive for killing crime lords." Dark said.

“Let's stay down for now. Whoever the sniper is, we can assume that they want us taken care of too." Titanium muttered. The squad agreed.

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Soulless cycled the bolt on the AWP rifle. The shot had hit perfectly, Soulless' instincts for where to place the crosshairs and when to shoot had made the kill.

He stood and put the AWP back into his rifle case. His job was done, and he had no need to take care of the people who had come to rescue the informant.

Soulless grabbed the casing from the fired round, and slid it into his pocket. The blizzard was starting to really pick up, burying the tracks from his entrance. A while after he pulled out, any vestiges of his presence would be almost nonexistent.

Soulless climbed on the snowmobile and yanked the recoil starter, gunning the throttle and fleeing the scene of the crime.

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End of Chapter 3
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@MR_EVIL_OVERLORD
@DarkTitan_
@TheTitaniumTitan
@RockTomb

As you all might know from my outro, I have, for the most part, left Brawl. I will still be around on forums to post stories and talk with the community, but don't expect these very fast. Thank you guys!

 

Join the creative side, we have great literature!

Seriously, continue your Skyfall series. That's what inspired me to write everything I have.

 

Definitely throw me in if you do reboot it.

 

Regular blizzard, as in weather. Snow. Wind. Sleet. Storm. Etc. The story was taking place in Alaska.