October 30, 2018

The lobby of the Reagan Memorial Hall looked far different from the posh accommodations above. Everything was simple and synthetic. Not tasteless, but of a defensive air as if it screamed for people not to pilfer from the area. Lounge chairs were bolted down, no carpets were laid so maintenance costs were lower, and keypads secured lamps and fluorescent fixtures. Everything in the area was placed so that the two spherical security cameras and the very human security guards sitting nearby would easily spot any attempt at larceny. The guards themselves looked alert, but growing fat on a pension. The added assistance of five UNATCO troops made sure the riff-raff was kept out of even the overly fortified lobby. As Paul stepped off the elevator with a late worker and a janitor, a small janitorial robot roughly the size of a cat scurried around his feet, scrubbing along the floor in a constant "whish". By now, he could see several agents both exiting the elevators and sitting in the chairs nearby.

Paul waited a few moments, wondering who was going to assist him in this endeavor. His trio was there: Hollins, Villieu, and himself. A pair of hybrids agents stepped through the nearest descending elevator, one a jet black fox with a white furred chest and an unusual white-tipped tail, the other a slim, lithe cheetah cross with black tears of fur running down the sides of his slight muzzle. They were dressed in Tuxedos, and Paul couldn\x92t help but notice how wide the cheetah\x92s feet were compared to his body. He certainly had the build of a sniper or a sprinter, however, with a sinewy body and wide, gripping feet with non-retractable claws. The fox was almost as short as Captain Maitz, though Paul knew immediately that the two weren\x92t one and the same because of his fur color. It seemed odd how a hybrid could carry different characteristics of their former selves, like Jared\x92s fur or his own eyes. In the nearest seat to him, speaking with Colonel Verkerke, was his brother, who was slipping off his Tuxedo coat. He honed in on their conversation.

"James, I understand your rationale, but the situation is very delicate. If we take the risk of preventing terrorist casualties as well as our own, we\x92ll simply be putting all our eggs in one basket."

"But colonel, we\x92re a peacekeeper unit. If this is a counterterrorist operation, then shouldn\x92t we be briefing Delta Force or Seal Team Six on this?"

"This is strictly a UN matter, major. If we drag local troops into this, we\x92ll be causing a public relations nightmare. Besides, the hostages at hand are members of the international community and are therefore UNATCO\x92s responsibility. If this were Amsterdam, Interpol would handle it, but as you can see, this is not Holland and I\x92m quite sure it won\x92t be in the next\x8548 minutes. That\x92s the ETA before they start executing hostages."

"I understand sir."

Verkerke saw the approaching operatives and stood up. "Good to see you, men. Let\x92s not waste time." He sat down to a computer clipboard, likely provided by one of his assistants. "We\x92ve got a situation at the UN building, at least 12 terrorists, and at least 14 hostages. The civilian count is unknown, and our cordon is fragile, but we at least have fairly accurate information. The information here is live, ladies and gentlemen."

The group simultaneously leaned in to see the picture, with green triangles marking UNATCO troop positions, blue triangles representing NYPD, and red crosses tagging known terrorist threats. Civilians, which now abounded on the streets, were marked by yellow rings packed close together and slowly moving away from the building, chased by blue and green triangles. The building itself, heavily renovated in 2014, had the basic rectangular box of the original UN building encased by a curved arclike structure and six arches curving over different points of the building. A garden, fountain, and courtyard were visible and the front of the building carried the flags of the United Nations, some of which were visibly tattered, even from outer space. The building was surrounded by lawns and gardens, with copses of trees and well-groomed rock gardens providing potential cover. All over the map, the situation looked truly chaotic. No sense of a barricade, troop formations, or anything orderly was apparent on the map. Instead, clumps of green and blue triangles were sheltered inside nearby buildings or behind the rock gardens and courtyards. Isolated triangles lay dormant, scattered across the map, most in the main courtyard. That was all the satellite saw when it looked at the mangled bodies of dead boys.

"Those red dots, ladies and gentlemen, are members of the FAC. Less than an hour ago, a truck supposedly carrying this week's supplies of Subway sandwiches for the food court ended up harboring an unconfirmed number of terrorists. They blitzed the building from the inside, meeting little opposition, and immediately overran the main UN conference room. Thanks to video feed, we have been able to see that there were five UN representatives, six local workers, and three unknown hostages. One hostage is down, likely dead, shot execution style, a Mr. Richard Crain. The man was a father of two. Ladies and gentlemen, these terrorists are the best the FAC has to offer. They are reactionaries, they are especially motivated against the UN, and they are well armed.

Sergei looked particularly shocked at the display, as if it triggered something in his mind. "Jesus, it looks just like Dzerzhinsky Square. The dead everywhere, the chaos\x85"

Several green triangles, ones that Paul originally thought to be more corpses, were fixated on the East River, the narrowest angles of the shapes pointing toward the main courtyard, directly toward two quivering red shapes. Paul then realized, after seeing the slow, panning motion of some triangles, that they were freshly mobilized snipers, likely on Police boats. He indicated them. "Those men, they\x92re snipers, right?"

Verkerke responded with a rare bit of pride. "Yes. We\x92ve managed to mobilize them to deal with those guys. The water\x92s been mercifully calm." He pointed toward the red lump, now discernable as two triangles. "That\x92s a 40 millimeter automatic, gentlemen, an old heckler and Koch GMG. They\x92ve been spraying explosive RPG\x92s all over the place for the past fifteen minutes. That\x92s why the cops and our men are practically running scared."

"Have the snipers fired on them yet?"

One of the green triangles directly opposite the gunners was shrouded briefly by an explosive spray of water and shrapnel. It looked at first as though it had been a direct hit, but a text translation of the soldier\x92s dialogue popped into the scrolling screen below.

>> UNATCOMOBILE3QM\x97"Snipers 2A and 2B, pull back. Repeat, pull back! Get out of there!"<<

>> MEDLINK04\x97SNIPER 2B-ZERO RADIO SIGNAL-ZERO PULSE-ZERO BRAINWAVE PATTERNS-ZERO CRITICAL LIFE SIGNS\x97SNIPER 2A-LIFE SIGNS NOMINAL-HEART RATE ABNORMALLY HIGH-BRAINWAVE PATTERNS INDICATE TRAUMA<<

>> DAEDELUSEYE047-UNIT LOST!<<

>> HPTRL-9G64\x97"Talk, We\x92re taking safe cover and pulling back. Bearing 173 heading due East"<<

>> UNATCOMOBILE3QM\x97"Affirmative, Mariner. Pull out all units in East River vicinity and hold back all boat traffic."<<

>> UNATCO PATROLBOT 0947662\x970933762\x977732741\x97"THREE UNITS REPORTING FOR DUTY"<<

>> UNATCOMOBILE3QM\x97"All bots, engage hostile targets in main courtyard. Uploading logistics now\x85"<<

The operatives were silent. It seemed strangely silent and emotionless when you looked at it from space. Without speaking, Verkerke continued with his briefing. "Our objectives are simple. First off, we need to make order from chaos on the main level, if the troops and police don\x92t get to it first. This means we\x92ll have to get my experts and myself to the command center, shown here." He indicated a pulsating green sphere with a label reading "Mobile 3QM- armored command trailer." Looking directly into James\x92 eyes, he spoke again. "I\x92ve already ordered the area south of the action cleared for helicopters, but with this mess, that could easily change. Therefore, to accomplish the first objective, here\x92s what we\x92ll do. It\x92s risky as hell, but I know it can be done with proper execution."

Paul practically knew the answer, as he was sure his brother did with the expression on his face. Even with a wolf\x92s head, the comprehension showed in his body language. "You want us to take the gun from the helicopters."

"That\x92s right. Very astute of you, Paul. Here\x92s what we\x92ll do. Kreiger, Paul, You\x92re going in the first helicopter to handle the situation. You\x92ll fly in low, under thermoptic cover, and take out the gunners from a distance."

"Sir, that might mean we\x92ll be too close. We\x92ve already lost one sniper."

Verkerke responded in a slightly agitated manner. "And twelve soldiers, at least. Paul, if you don\x92t want to take risks, get into interior decorating. We are not here to discuss comfort."

"But what about preservation of life?"

Verkerke paused for a moment, suddenly realizing what Paul\x92s point was. Turning to look directly into the wolf\x92s eyes, he spoke with a touch of compassion. "Alright. I\x92ll take your argument with a grain of salt, but until I get a real handle on the situation, the orders stay the same."

"What\x92s our hardware?"

"The helicopters are standard unmarked VB-244\x92s, courtesy of the NSA. They have built in Thermoptic fuselages and sniper jacks. We couldn\x92t choose your favorite guns, so you\x92ll have to work with the standard Volt Garands."

"Standard helicopters with non-custom rifles? That\x92s going to complicate things."

"Live with it. It\x92s what we\x92ve got. James, Weston, you\x92re going to team up with a SWAT teams C and E, entering through opposite wings of the building to clear levels one through five."

James protested. "SWAT?"

"Yes, they\x92re FBI, not NYPD if that\x92s any consolation to you. Besides, UNATCO is busy all over the city with this wave of dignitaries. SWAT\x92s all we\x92ve got"

"It\x92s not the SWAT team part that bothers me, I just wanted to make sure whether or not the terrorists barricaded the doors. If I die, it\x92s the UN\x92s problem. If they die, we drag the national government into this matter."

"That\x92s where Sergei and Hollins come in. Hollins will guide Villieu with discretion to one entrance, than the other to set the appropriate door charges. We\x92ve picked up sonic transducer activity, so it\x92s a possibility that the entrances are rigged against entrance."

Hollins, not the expert on demolitions that Sergei was, rose a thin eyebrow quizzically. "Do you mean for us to disarm them?"

Sergei followed up, almost immediately. "No. What he means is that we take them out, we blast them to remove the threat definitively. It is ten times easier to detonate explosives than to disarm them. That\x92s a bomb\x92s purpose, a bomb\x92s desire, even."

Hollins, a bit insecure at the prospect of deliberately blowing up the UN building, shifted restlessly in her seat. "But what if it\x92s rigged to take down the building?"

"That\x92s why you two are going in with stealth to check it out. So, here\x92s the plan as it stands, with objectives in chronological order. First, Paul and Kreiger take out the gunners and the weapon itself. Second, we obtain command and gather all the intel we can from outside. Then, Hollins and Villieu scour the area for explosives and act accordingly. Sergei, we\x92ve had a special thicksuit designed for your lupine shape as well as most other hybrid operatives requiring heavy armor. It\x92s on the chopper as we speak."

"Good. What protection is guaranteed to Hollins?"

"She\x92ll use standard field garb until she\x92s ready for the trip with you. At that point, she\x92ll suit up in medium level tac gear. She has to maintain her stealth, after all."

Hollins, constantly suspicious, queried her superior\x92s unusual tactics. "Sir, this plan seems unusually open ended\x85"

"Good. I plan to keep it that way. All of you are quite competent, but on top of that even I don\x92t know what exactly is in store."

Paul stepped forward, feeling as though he would be needless for most of the mission. "Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"What will happen to Kreiger and I after we take out the 40 millimeter?"

"Standby for further instructions. Given the shortage of personnel, that shouldn\x92t be too long a wait. Alright men, move out. Take the company cars, you know where they are."

Without further ado, the team ran out of the main lobby, followed closely by Verkerke. It was as if he had started a suicidal marathon.

The VB-244 was also popularly known as the "Whisper Drone", as it lacked the tail rotor most helicopters had. The concept wasn\x92t new, but it was a breakthrough when they expanded the technology to suit light military transports. The special models shared with the NSF and FBI were painted jet black and covered with an ultrathin layer of thermoptic fabric, capable of shrouding the helicopter from view to a certain extent. The only problem with the concept was that the quick movements of the rotors and the aircraft itself made the feature virtually useless at short ranges. The helicopter itself was unusually boxy looking, though its shoehorn shape was aerodynamic, the broad, flat windows and windshields seemed to emphasize their awkward appearance.

As Paul looked at the wind-polished concrete and the gossamer swirls of dust on the helicopter pad, he saw the glow of New York\x92s artificially lit horizon. The Drone lifted with a slight lurch, jerking sideways in a slight side wind. The pilot, fully suited in helmet and nomex flight suit, turned to make small talk. He was an older, Caucasian man in his late forties and had a noticeable, well-groomed gray beard.

"Sorry, guys, these birds can have a temperament, especially in a crosswind. Lemme guess, UN building, right?"

Paul turned forward, resting the butt of his freshly uncovered Volt Rifle on his leg and starting to field strip it. "You\x92re pretty fast, Iceman." The two had been acquaintances since he first returned to New York, almost a month ago.

"Peter Kreiger, meet Warrant Officer Jeff Vance. He takes care of our transports in New York. Vance, this is Lieutenant Kreiger."

The Cheetah leaned forward, noticing that the pilot\x92s right hand was extended. He spoke with a formitable German accent. "Just transferred from Frankfurt. Interpol has a mirror program of UNATCO\x92s genetic augmentations."

"Nice to meet you. Well, you probably don\x92t know either of us very well, so I\x92ll start with me. My friends call me Iceman, my superiors call me Warrant Officer Vance. Which are you?"

"Both, Warrant Officer Iceman."

With a smile and a laugh, he simply replied "Good."

"Shouldn\x92t you be concentrating on your flying?"

"No need to right now. We\x92re on autopilot. That\x92s what I love about these newer models. No hands, no worries. So, you meet Paul yet?"

The feline face responded in an almost nervous tone, looking at Paul reassemble his rifle. "No, we\x92re both snipers put together for this mission. We\x92ve only just met. As a matter of fact, I only arrived in New York two days ago. All these new faces are really confusing me."

"Well don\x92t worry. I know Paul. He won\x92t bite." He chuckled and turned back toward the flat windshield before him, the myriad lights of the cityscape an upside-down constellation in the night.

Paul, still somewhat tense about the operation, ignored the remark and peered out the window to see the streets far below. All the traffic, the clamor, the hatred and passion of New York was drowned out by the rhythmic "wop-wop"ing of the rotors. The rubber coating on part of the rifle rubbed against some fur on his hand, pulling it back uncomfortably, and he soon retracted from his contemplation. Almost immediately, he turned to Kreiger, who was almost as nervous as him. Vance spoke against the silence.

"Hey guys, I know what they want you to do. Don\x92t worry about it. If anything kills you on this mission, it certainly won\x92t be my piloting. Besides, I want to live as much as you do, so I\x92m just going to throw out headquarters\x92 order and do things my way."

This caught Paul\x92s attention. If he was out to change the plan, it could get them in trouble. Then again, if it were a smart change, it could get all three medals. "What\x92s your plan?"

He craned his neck around, flipping up his visor to reveal mischievous brown eyes. "UNATCO says we hover at the front and take them out, right?" The two nodded simultaneously. It was almost as if the two were the same person, only different looking. "Well, that\x92s a load of horse shit. If we face off with a 40 millimeter, we\x92re FUBAR."

Kreiger, still unfamiliar with some American terminology, raised a dirty blonde eyebrow quizzically. "FUBAR?"

"Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. Anyway, here\x92s what I had in mind. It\x92s illegitimate, but a nearby skyscraper has a small patch of rooftop to land on and a beautiful view of the UN building\x92s front. Are you beginning to understand?"

They nodded.

"Judging by the fact that all you guys have are electronic rifles, it\x92s going to be a lot easier taking them out from a distance. I\x92m no expert on sniping, I\x92ll leave that up to you, but I do know that it takes a second or two to recharge. That means, with an RPG trained on this whirlybird, we\x92re practically slag unless we take my alternative."

"Sounds good, Iceman, very good. Tell me something, why don\x92t you aim for a higher position. I\x92m sure you\x92d make a good commander or colonel at least."

"Well, I guess I stay for the glamor. This is a comfortable position. Not much responsibility, not too many people to push you around\x85 just me and my helicopter."

Paul caught himself gazing out the window again. He loved flying, with all it\x92s tranquility and distance from the harsh world around him. From above the city, you couldn\x92t tell that the economy had bottomed out. You couldn\x92t tell that thousands of people had an incurable disease and couldn\x92t do anything about it. You couldn\x92t even tell that the entire city was a festering sore, a fetid scab of not only the United States, but also the entire Earth. He looked at the black pads on his hands tipped by the slight claws and wondered. Why? Why does this continue? Why do honest civilians have to starve while vicious terrorists and corrupt politicians prosper?

He thought about the life he could have had. Los Angeles was such a nice city then, or at least it seemed to be when he was just a kid in Brooklyn. He had gotten an education in college, was going to continue with an M.B.A. in Civil Engineering, and had a much less grim career ahead of him. Still, something beckoned him to enter UNATCO, a call to arms. He wanted to save lives, but it seemed more and more that every time they killed terrorists, new ones would pop up in retaliation. They weren\x92t even malicious all the time, just fighting for their beliefs, how corruption had infected the U.S., how the rich were getting too rich and the poor getting too poor.

Los Angeles. Decadent palaces on sunlit beaches, a summer that never ends, a bustling city that hadn\x92t forgotten how to have fun\x85 It all seemed so appealing now. He rubbed at the black pad on the bridge of his fingers and felt the smooth, inflated surface. He remembered that he had wanted mechanical augmentations and a station on the West Coast, and could have had that choice had he appealed to Fitzpatrick. He nodded in disgust at the fact that he was foolish enough to reject Los Angeles twice.

Suddenly he remembered why he had to stay, and shamefully resigned to the fact that he had forgotten Dana for even a second. Someday, he would have to get out of UNATCO, out of New York for good. He would even life the remainder of his life a freakish hybrid just so long as he got to feel the warmth of an orange sun in his face and the smooth touch and sweet scent of Dana by his side.

He had to get out, and soon.

A jolt of turbulence brought him out of his trance, lightly tapping his wet nose against the window. Shots of pain streamed through his face as he cupped his hands over his nose.

"Ow! Shit!"

"Hey Paul, you alright?"

He released his nose and sniffled in an agitated manner. "Yeah, I\x92ll live."

"I told you these things had a temperament in a crosswind." He paused for a moment, turning forward and cupping his facemask over his nose and mouth, an artificial muzzle. Paul overheard the pilot\x92s conversation. His perked ears had a difficult time listening in over the repetitive whopping of the rotor blades above. A nearly incomprehensible voice started in through the radio, a man speaking too close to the microphone."

"BCC to Air 1, do you copy?"

With the lucid, seasoned voice of a traffic reporter, he spoke into the headset. "BCC, this is Air 1, I read you loud and clear."

"You are entering what is now restricted airspace. You have clearance, but the area is extremely hostile. Please maintain altitude of no less than 500 feet above city structures."

"Roger that, BCC."

"Also, Air 1, UNATCO has formed a strong cordon and is moving civilians to safe ground. Areas directly north and south of the UN building along FDR drive are secure, and a small landing area has been cleared on the Southern leg. Areas directly toward the front of the building are still not secure, repeat, areas directly in front of the building are not secure. Consider airspace in vicinity extremely dangerous."

Vance maintained his attention, receiving a fresh announcement. Waiting for a moment as the helicopter gently nosed upward, he turned around briefly. "Incoming message from Air 2. Sounds like Verkerke."

After plugging both ears so to better hear the speakerphones implanted in his ears, a familiar voice sounded. "Calabrese, Kreiger, this is a change in orders. Do not attempt to approach the gun. Repeat, do not approach the gun. If possible, take it out from a rooftop at least 500 yards away. I\x92d recommend the SONY building, just on the coast of the East River opposite the headquarters."

"Affirmative, colonel. We\x92ll take it under advisement."

"Be sure that you do. I don\x92t want you guys dead, but I sure as hell don\x92t want to deal with a helicopter crash in downtown Manhattan."

Paul turned to Vance, once again resting the butt of his rifle on his thigh. "Iceman, Verkerke just changed the order. He wants us to set up on the SONY building. I assume you know where that is."

"Of course. That\x92s where I had originally meant to go." He craned his neck to look at the light bathed structure of the new UN building. Several of the lights had been blown or shot out, but some of the courtyard illumination was still bright, casting a glow over the manicured lawn before the old structure.

The whisper drone curved around the war zone, but several pot shots from broken windows traced by the aircraft. The twang of metal was heard as one finally hit, so Vance calmly banked left, away from the building, and got out of firing range. After banking right, Paul found his sniping partner gazing out the window next to him, peering downward with intense curiosity. Paul rubbed the twin flares of vapor from the glass caused by his nostrils and looked down.

He was shocked. All over, FAC and UNATCO troops lay mangled or dead. Black craters formed black holes that the normally intense light fell into like an endless pit, violations of the celestial garden patches and perfect grasses that once occupied the area. At the base of the main building, shattered glass lay like beads of ice below and on top of a few terrorist bodies, half decapitated or disemboweled by the intense cones of force generated by high power bullets. He saw one boy, a UNATCO trooper, lying dormant on the grass nearby, burnt terribly on one side and bleeding profusely through a wound where a leg had once been. The nearby crater pronounced the cause of this atrocity, but upon closer examination, the boy reached up, trying to touch or find what remained of his leg\x85 or perhaps reaching up for God\x92s mercy.

Paul winced and turned away. It was never comforting to see the final results of war. One could talk for hours about how to main and how to kill and how to use this weapon for what, but the actual sight of war\x92s atrocity was something one had to experience personally, and it was never pretty. Sucking it in, he turned away for a moment. So much killing, he thought to himself.

The city flashed up beneath him, a gray and black behemoth dominated by superstructures and a crowded grid of streets. It was only a matter of seconds until they made their final approach to the rooftop. He reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a small Volt rifle charger plug, a cylindrical battery that could fit neatly into the palm of his hand. Inserting it carefully into the ammunition feed just in front of the trigger, a triple beep signaled the rifle\x92s awakening.

The M18 Garand electrical rifle was shaped in the manner of nearly any rifle except for the wider than normal barrel and the charger cell protruding from beneath. It was designed to send a brief, powerful, one to three million volt charge that instantaneously came in contact with its target, generating no recoil and unerringly hitting its intended target. The unbelievably quick electric missile was at first feared to attract to objects containing more charge than the target, but the concept of charging the target first with electrons and the rifle with protons proved to eliminate this problem, removing all sorts of accuracy problems. There were tradeoffs, however, and the benefits of an electric rifle only marginally outweighed the problems. First off, silencers were useless because the white hot bolt\x92s pushing through cold air generated a powerful thunderclap on its own, just as real lightning. Secondly, the rifle was slow to recharge, taking from two to three seconds between each shot, even longer than a pure bolt action rifle. Finally, the intense heat of the bolt had a tendency to cauterize the wound, neatly searing a hole through the target. Unless a perfect head shot were attained, sudden death could easily be averted by the sterilizing, wound sealing effect of the lightning.

Still, the fact that recoil was nonexistent and the charger had a substantial 12 shots made the mechanism extremely popular among snipers, who found the light, but deadly rifle a refreshing change from rifles that constantly kicked up from a gun blast. The entire process of charging the opposite surfaces to substantiate a lightning bolt took less than a quarter of a second, leaving only a small delay between the trigger pull and the firing. To protect the user, the entire rifle was coated in rubber parts for electrical insulation.

After checking the rifle one last time, he slung it around his back, removed his Glock 24 from his hip-holster, pulled back the slide, and removed the safety. "Lock and load, Kreiger. Lock and load."

Kreiger followed Paul\x92s actions, fluidly slipping his pistol from his right hip. His actions were as quick and professional as a gunslinger\x92s. Raising it into the air, he loaded a fresh magazine, pulled back the slide from the tail, and switched off the safety. Suddenly, a draft of air rushed through the cabin and penetrated Paul\x92s fur all the way down to his skin, seeming to chill him to the bone. They turned to the door and unfastened their safety harnesses, ready to hop off back to back.

Kreiger was the one to shout the order as the ledge of the skyscraper materialized beneath the Drone. "Let\x92s go! Move it! Move it!"

Hopping out of the helicopter with sunken heads, the downdraft of the rotors blew the two onto the gravel roof of the skyscraper. Immediately, the two split off in opposite directions, clearing the rooftop of threats. Neither anticipated finding any, but no one ever knew exactly what to expect in any circumstance, so they hurriedly cleared the roof of all threats. For the most part, it was a broad, simple roof with a small concrete helipad, a roof access stairway, a large satellite dish, and two massive HVAC units. Sweeping the rooftop and aiming their pistols in swift, snapping motions, they concluded that there was nothing to worry about. Paul pressed the soft membrane behind his ear.

"Clear!"

In response, a German voice sounded seconds later. "Clear!"

Rushing along the rooftop with the crisp crunching of gravel, Paul approached the edge of the building that overlooked the UN building. The shot was clear, straightforward, but of some distance, about three quarters of a mile. Paul unslung his rifle, checking it and popping out a mounted bipod. Kreiger immediately approached and did the same, first removing his sunglasses. His uniform looked strikingly similar to Paul\x92s, aside from the fact that the slacks were longer and looser, designed for longer legs. He rested the bipod on the concrete abutment and laid his body down flatly upon the gravel. Perfect, he thought to himself.

The building lacked a solid concrete banister, but a metal guardrail that circumnavigated the cylindrical structure replaced this sufficiently. No barrier meant no sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaving a laid down position that promoted the utmost accuracy. As he shifted his position, his special boots stifled his feet, which he normally kept bare. Though a bit uncomfortable, he felt better protected from the elements this way. He adjusted his scope, zooming to the farthest setting and adjusting the focus accordingly. The scope\x92s auto-focus feature was set for human eyes, and it took a slight adjustment to clarify the picture. He heard the shutter click of the night vision visor opening next to him, and he realized that Kreiger lacked the natural ability to adjust to so little light. He breathed normally, strictly panning the area for targets and not taking aim.

The first image he saw was a tinted blue window, bathed in exterior light. At least I got the right building, he contemplated. He slowly crept across the building, occasionally zooming out to get a better overlook of the situation. He then caught the gray fatigues of two men by a matte black weapon. The men themselves wore predominantly black and gray, with medium tac gear, balaclavas, body armor, and visors that formed one orange line across the face at eye level, simple HUD display headsets. He looked at the gun, which was surrounded by ransacked papers and pellets of broken glass. The two were just far enough into the building to avoid easy ground attacks, but just far forward enough to handily rain rocket propelled grenades all over the courtyard. Paul took a breath, gripping the rifle and placing his finger over the trigger.

"Target acquired, eighth story window, twelve o\x92 clock. Two contacts."

Kreiger immediately found the targets and likewise took aim. "Contact. I\x92ll take the man to the right." He waited a few moments, both men\x92s sights trained on their assigned targets. The command post must have been taking their time in letting the snipers do their work. As he adjusted his scope, he almost whispered out. "Are you a good sniper, Paul?"

"Of course. Why do you think I\x92m here next to you."

"I don\x92t mean that. I mean experience. Have you killed a man with an electric rifle before?"

"No. This is a first."

"Take my advice. Aim for the eyes, hold onto thick rubber, and keep still as stone. Most snipers expect recoil and compensate for it. Whatever you do, don\x92t lean in. Just those three things make a world of difference."

"I\x92ll take it under advisement, Kreiger."

A message popped through their comlinks. "High ground, this is Talk. Colonel Verkerke is now in charge. Fire when ready."

"Affirmative."

The targets were somewhat shifty, but for the most part were easy targets. Their heads were nearly concealed by the floor above, but Paul could make out the orange visors quite easily. This wouldn\x92t be a difficult kill if the rifles weren\x92t too touchy. He aimed toward his target\x92s left eye, took a breath, and spoke to Kreiger.

"By my count. Three\x85Two\x85 One\x85 FIRE!"

Paul heard the distinguished click of his trigger, followed by the whir of two points charging up. Through his sights, the targets barely moved until a blinding white flash ripped through the air. The tremendous crack of the artificial lightning bolts seemed to rip through his vulnerable eardrums, slightly disorienting him in an unexpected display of force. When his eyes adjusted again to the light a second later, he looked through his scope to see two bodies lying on the floor with mild streams of smoke emanating from their heads. It was strangely clean, as the bolts had each hit their targets in the intended areas. The intense electricity rocketed through their optic nerves and fried their brains while the sheer force of the bolt had an effect similar to an intense laser, creating a clean, well-burnt hole through the head. The two targets were down indefinitely.

"Got em! This is Highground 1. Two confirmed kills, repeat, two confirmed kills."

Almost immediately, a small collection of UNATCO troops revealed themselves from the courtyard. Police units rushed into the main courtyard, and the distant scratching echo of NATO rounds marked the recapture of the yard. Carefully zooming out, a troop with a shoulder mounted GEP gun fired a single projectile into the office where the grenade launcher lay, blasting glass, paper, and metal outward in a cone of debris likening confetti. As the cloud of smoke cleared, the damage had been remarkably contained to the one office, barely affecting the nearby rooms. Paul lowered the rifle and looked to Kreiger, seeing that the Cheetah man was no worse for the wear. He even sensed a bit of satisfaction in his body language as he smiled and lifted his rifle.

"Wunderbar! Good shots, good shots, both of them! Did you see that?"

Paul was half-shocked and half-appalled at the man\x92s satisfaction of the terrorists\x92 deaths, even though the targets had already drawn plenty of blood themselves. "Yeah, I guess."

He sensed Paul\x92s uneasy tone. "Calabrese, are you alright?"

"Sure, uh, fine."

"You did an excellent job for the first time with a new rifle. I commend you." The helicopter circled in, nimbly negotiating the undersized helicopter pad on the roof. "Come on, the helicopter\x92s waiting."

Slinging his rifle again, Paul collected himself and nimbly ran to the helicopter, gracefully hopping up to the cabin and helping Kreiger up the foothold with one hand. A familiar voice sounded in both their headsets, the calm American voice of John Verkerke.

"Good work, men. Head back to Talk. Your objectives have been reset. Meet me in the trailer ASAP."

Vance, calm and collected as usual, responded for the two. "Roger that, Talk. We are enroute to your position now."