Official Tensided Cyperpunk RPG Campaign

[Alyrium Denryle]

"You still havent figured out I am a telepath yet eh? "Dr. Lennox said to Stavis

[CorSec]

For an instant, the chihuahuas of hell were nipping at their heels.

"Ow! Fuck!" Blaine hollered. He wasn't hurt, just a little surprised. It was like his little sister was pinching the back of his arm - like she used to do on Saturday mornings. Flashbacks of the two of them play wrestling and her getting her tooth knocked out flitted through his mind and were quickly gone.

Blaine looks over at Stacey to see her clutching the left side of her head cursing in each of the four languages she knows. Blood was beginning to run down her arm. He was hoping that, like many head wounds, it looked worse than it really was. She's cursing. That's a good sign...

At the same moment, he felt the car lurch. Then he heard the unmistakable thwap-thwap-thwap of a flat tire. The determined look on Dirk's face said many things, among them that he didn't need reminding to keep driving.

Blaine quickly scanned the interior of the car simultaneously asking "Hey, you got a towel or something - anything? Stacey's been hit."

Despite the din, Blaine could clearly hear Stacey's phone ringing.

[Gerard_Paloma]

As the bullets rip into the car, Dirk's face contorts into a mask of pure hatred. He loses it.

"Those fucking sons of bitches! Nobody fucks with my goddamn car and lives!"

Stacey starts screaming after she's hit, which makes Dirk even angrier.

They shot the girl. They fucking shot the girl. Those dickless little shitheads shot the fucking girl! And now my tire's blown, my rim's gonna be fucked all to hell. God-fucking-dammit!

He contemplated slamming on the brakes, getting the BAR out of the trunk, and blowing these assholes away, but he didn't know how bad Stacey was hurt.

He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out an unused hankerchief. He threw it back to the doorman. "Here, man. Best I can do. Is she hurt bad?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dirk made up his mind about something. He slammed on the brakes, and pulled his Ruger. He swapped it to his left hand and put a round into the spy's skull. As the car shuddered to a stop,
Dirk climbed out of the car and circled around to the back. He opened the trunk, and after setting the Ruger down, pulled out the BAR and slammed in a clip. He grabbed 5 more clips and dropped them in his pockets. He then emptied his pockets of speed loaders.

"Hey buddy, you think you can handle a Ruger?" Dirk asked the doorman as he got out of the car. Again, without waiting for an answer, Dirk handed him the weapon and 3 speed loaders. "This might be a good time to ask. What's your name?"

EDITED ACTIONS

[CorSec]

He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out an unused hankerchief. He threw it back to the doorman. "Here, man. Best I can do. Is she hurt bad?"

Stacey snatches the hankerchief from Dirk and holds it to her ear. "Thanks," she says curtly. She then returns to muttering things about their manhood and ancestry in other languages. With her free hand she finally picks up the still ringing cell phone. "Yeah?" she says a little angrier than she intended. There's a pause as she listens to the voice on the other end, and her tone softens.

Without waiting for an answer, Dirk made up his mind about something. He slammed on the brakes, and pulled his Ruger. He swapped it to his left hand and put a round into the spy's skull. As the car shuddered to a stop Dirk climbed out of the car and circled around to the back. He opened the trunk, and after setting the Ruger down, pulled out the BAR and slammed in a clip. He grabbed 5 more clips and dropped them in his pockets. He then emptied his pockets of speed loaders.

Surprised by the sudden stop - and assassination - Blaine exits the vehicle, but before he begins questioning Dirk's sanity, he's being handed a Ruger and its bullets.

"Hey buddy, you think you can handle a Ruger?" Dirk asked the doorman as he got out of the car. Again, without waiting for an answer, Dirk handed him the weapon and 3 speed loaders.

Blaine shuffles the weapon and rounds a bit until he frees up his other hand. He stares at the Ruger dumbly. "Uh... sure, I could handle it, but what the fuck are you doing?" He opens the cylinder, counts the five rounds and snaps it closed. "I mean, this isn't like going up against the half-hearted cops in the bar."

Blaine watches as Dirk pulls a big honkin' rifle out of the trunk. Blaine is left standing by the open trunk as Dirk spins on his heels to lay waste to the jack-booted thugs who menaced his precious vehicle. I guess this isn't the time to be discussing this in committee.

"This might be a good time to ask. What's your name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Richards." Blaine cringes inside as he notices how ordinary his name sounds. It's not as hard as Dirk Harrison nor as continental as Ernesto Vega. Just Blaine. He doesn't even have a cool nick name, like Blaine 'Deadeye' Richards. Just Plain ol' Blaine.

"I guess there's no talking you out of this. So, you're just going to walk around the corner and start shooting?"

((I hope you don't mind me 'borrowing' Stacey. I put her actions in blue only to differentiate them from my own actions. I tried not to make any real decisions.))

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

((There's still nothing to execute, so keep posting! ))

[Gerard_Paloma]

Blaine shuffles the weapon and rounds a bit until he frees up his other hand. He stares at the Ruger dumbly. "Uh... sure, I could handle it, but what the fuck are you doing?" He opens the cylinder, counts the five rounds and snaps it closed. "I mean, this isn't like going up against the half-hearted cops in the bar."

"True. But we won't get very far on a blown tire. And they'll catch up with us eventually. I'd rather deal with em now."

"Blaine. Blaine Richards." Blaine cringes inside as he notices how ordinary his name sounds. It's not as hard as Dirk Harrison nor as continental as Ernesto Vega. Just Blaine. He doesn't even have a cool nick name, like Blaine 'Deadeye' Richards. Just Plain ol' Blaine.

"Good to meet ya, Blaine. My name's Dirk, but you already knew that."

"I guess there's no talking you out of this. So, you're just going to walk around the corner and start shooting?"

"Nope. Car's fucked anyway, we'll use it as cover. Just hope that they don't hit the tank." He turns to Stacey. "Are you ok? Can you shoot a gun? I believe Blaine's got an extra."

[CorSec]

"True. But we won't get very far on a blown tire. And they'll catch up with us eventually. I'd rather deal with em now. Car's fucked anyway, we'll use it as cover. Just hope that they don't hit the tank."

Blaine shrugs in agreement, resigned to deal with whatever comes around the corner.

"Good to meet ya, Blaine. My name's Dirk, but you already knew that."

Blaine winks and says "Sure, that's what you say your name is, but I still haven't seen any ID.

He turns to Stacey. "Are you ok? Can you shoot a gun? I believe Blaine's got an extra."[/

If looks could kill, every living thing in a one mile radius would be dead. She had finished her conversation with whoever had called, but she was still holding the hankerchief to her left ear. "Yeah, I'll be alright." She pulled the make shift bandage away, examining it, "I think it's almost stopped."

Blaine hands her his SIG ((5 rounds remaining in clip)) and the two spare clips. "You remember how to shoot this, right?" She pins him with a withering stare that should've eaten the paint off of Dirk's Charger. Blaine took that to mean "Now is not the time to be Mr. Funny-Pants, asshole." Blaine held up his hands in a submissive apology and rejoined Dirk to hash out some sort of plan.

((Are all 9 bad guys converging? The building where the sniper was setting up, is it the same one where we are? Roll visual checks, please. [radar, thermal, etc]))

[Hotfoot]

"A pity, but no use crying over spilled milk, especially with more pressing matters ahead of us. I'll call Miss Alvarez, but you keep an eye out for a gray skinned freak. I think I frightened him off, but I can't be sure. He seemed to like the rooftops, and he may be on a leash." That said, Mikal pulled out his cell phone and found Stacey's number, which had been saved when she called him earlier. It rings....and rings...and rings...stupid dyayvochka. Probably was too busy enjoying the vibration feature to pick up.

Finally, she answers. At first, Mikal is tempted to chide her for her tone, but then he thinks better of it, especially when his sound processor kicks in to let him hear the commotion in the background. Guns. Cover. That would explain the tone and the delay, and puts Mikal in the position of the businessman, "Miss Alvarez, we are our way and ready for action. It sounds like you are in need of assistance yourself, however. Where are you?" If need be, Mikal would have Ernesto pick up Stacey and her two little boy toys, the van should not have a problem carrying all of them if need be. If they were already at the base of operations, well, Ernesto and Mikal showing up behind the attackers should prove to be a very pleasant surprise. Reinforcements could be a bitch like that...

(OOC)Sorry to be a bother, but could the Stacey portions of text perhaps be done in a different color? They're rather hard to read against the normal background of the site.(/OOC)

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Dirk and Blaine:
As everyone gets ready, the first of the submachinegun wielding corporate thugs comes around the corner with his three buddies close behind. Blaine doesn't see the other five on his radar.

Range is 25 squares (that's inside short range for the BAR and the Ruger, but outside for all the other guns involved)

Mikal:
"We're at the same place we were before and we're in a lot of trouble! You remember where we were parked when we came in the bar? Come in from the opposite direction and you can get them from behind." There's a couple second pause, then, "I'm being handed a gun. Get here soon!"

((That's all I can execute so far))

[Gerard_Paloma]

"Alright, let's rock."

Dirk takes cover behind the front fender, and brings the BAR up. He sights down the barrel as the first goon rounds the corner. The gun is already set to full-auto, the way he likes it.

"Eat lead, mother fucker."

((no aiming, full auto))

[CorSec]

Blaine assumes cover behind the other front fender. He's not sure he could hit anyone with the Ruger, but he gives it the old college try. He looks down range and draws a bead on one of the three bad guys in sight.

((aimed shot, no specific target))

((Yay! Action!))

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Dirk:
DF: 20
Adj AT: 18
Final roll: 26
MoS: 6

5 shots hit
General locations: 3 x body, 1 x arm, 1 x head
Spec. body locations: R. clavicle, L. torso, heart
Damages: 12 (r. arm perm. useless), 8 (incapacitation), 9 (instant death)
Specific arm location: R. elbow
Damage: 16 (r. arm severed at elbow)
Specific head location: L. ear
Damage: 13 (L. ear severed)

The night is lit up in a loud and spectacular manner as Dirk opens up with his beefy automatic rifle. Steel core 30-06 bullets pour from the barrel of the 15 lbs rifle at 600 rpm. Most people could not control the recoil effectively, but Dirk's grafted arm gives him more strength than most soldiers had when the gun was still being made. Half the shots from the ten shot burst hit. The first staggers the unfortunate victim backward as it destroys his collerbone. The second catches him in the torso and erupts out his back in a spray of blood. The third rips his heart to pieces, killing him instantly, but before his lifeless body has a chance to hit the ground, the fourth and fifth rounds sever half his arm and his ear, right through his helmet.

Blaine:
Also having his sights up, Blaine decides to wait until he has a good bead on someone rather than wasting bullets. ((that's what you mean by "aim" right?))

((rest of turn to be executed as it is received))

[Hotfoot]

"We're at the same place we were before and we're in a lot of trouble! You remember where we were parked when we came in the bar? Come in from the opposite direction and you can get them from behind." There's a couple second pause, then, "I'm being handed a gun. Get here soon!"

"Copy. Mikal out," hanging up the phone, he repeats the instructions to Ernesto. "They must be in a bad situation, Stacey's got a gun. Get ready for a hot extraction, Ernesto. We'll come in behind them and give them a taste of hell," Mikal reaches behind him and opens his work bag up, pulling out his USAS-12, a spare drum, and the motion sensor, just in case.

A mischevious smirk curled under his goatee, and for a moment he allows his accent to be especially pronounced, "You drive. I have shotgun."

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Dirk:
DF: 20
Adj AT: 18
Final roll: 26
MoS: 6

5 shots hit
General locations: 3 x body, 1 x arm, 1 x head
Spec. body locations: R. clavicle, L. torso, heart
Damages: 12 (r. arm perm. useless), 8 (incapacitation), 9 (instant death)
Specific arm location: R. elbow
Damage: 16 (r. arm severed at elbow)
Specific head location: L. ear
Damage: 13 (L. ear severed)

The night is lit up in a loud and spectacular manner as Dirk opens up with his beefy automatic rifle. Steel core 30-06 bullets pour from the barrel of the 15 lbs rifle at 600 rpm. Most people could not control the recoil effectively, but Dirk's grafted arm gives him more strength than most soldiers had when the gun was still being made. Half the shots from the ten shot burst hit. The first staggers the unfortunate victim backward as it destroys his collerbone. The second catches him in the torso and erupts out his back in a spray of blood. The third rips his heart to pieces, killing him instantly, but before his lifeless body has a chance to hit the ground, the fourth and fifth rounds sever half his arm and his ear, right through his helmet.

Blaine:
Also having his sights up, Blaine decides to wait until he has a good bead on someone rather than wasting bullets. ((that's what you mean by "aim" right?))

((rest of turn to be executed as it is received))

Mikal and Ernesto:
((I'm assuming that Ernesto has no objections to Mikal's plans, if he does, feel free to yell at me about it.))

Ernesto slams down on the gas, the short distance guaranteeing that their arrival would come soon.

[Marcao]

His attention was mostly on the road before him, but it was late and the traffic was not a factor. He did notice that Stacey seemed to take a bit longer than he had expected in picking up the phone. When Mikal finally began to speak, he listened for the words and quickly took notice that his would be employer was in a jam. His mind congratulated him on getting the two thousand advance while he could, while a less cynical part of him wanted to offer assistance if possible. It was good policy to try and keep your employers alive.

When Mikal spoke he listened and within seconds he floored the gas pedal on his vehicle. It did not take long for his blatant disregard of the speed limit to lead them ever closer towards their final destination. He knew the streets of the city well, and employed that knowledge ruthlessly. He was certain that he had shaved at least a minute of their time. He must have been a cab driver in another life. As they arrived within four city blocks of their destination, he slowed down well aware that barreling down the street would attract far more attention than he desired. He took a right turn, sliding down a side-street before approaching two more blocks. He could hear some of the fire now, and turned up a small hill into the main street where he was fairly certain the primary target laid. His eyes narrowing as he spoke to Mikal. “Make the shots count, we will only have one pass before we dismount.”

His Mustang turned into the street, and accelerated down his eyes utilizing their zoom feature to the fullest as he sought out targets in roof tops and before him. He positioned the vehicle as best he could, sliding down the street and giving Mikal the best opening possible to unload on their adversaries. He made sure to avoid any potholes, aware that Mikal needed a stable firing platform. The second that Mikal had made his pass, he accelerated to the intersection and took a sharp right as he tried to disappear one fifth of the way down the street. He had no intention of getting his vehicle shot, and needed to be out of line of sight in order to allow himself and Mikal a chance to dismount. The second his vehicle came to a stop, his hands were reaching for his seat belt. A few seconds later, he was picking up his helmet from his bag, as well as his G36 and three clips.

As soon as he had secured the clips he slid out of the vehicle, placing the helmet over his head before he reached for the G36 and closed the door. He then took a good look around the nearby roofs and windows seeking threats before sprinting to the corner of the block. Once there he tried to use the edge of the building in the corner as cover as he sought out targets with his rifle. He had always possessed a good amount of situational awareness, and he would need all of it now. He was no longer thinking like a normal human being. Right now, all that he saw were allies, potential threats and threats. Anything that he considered hostile, would be attacked.

notes:

1: Spot-Alertness checks on rooftops as he drives towards the location due to the fact that Mikal asked him to be aware of the roofs.

2. Spot-Alertness checks as he drives from behind the bad guys and past them, giving Mikal a chance to perform his “shotgun” duties.

3. Spot-Alertness checks after he parks the car and goes out hunting. He is trying to use the building at the corner as cover, maximizing every nook and cranny. If he has to move, he will seek out engine blocks to hide behind. Once again, he is eyeing, windows, rooftops, alleys, and fire escapes.

4. Ernesto will fire at any hostile he sees with his G36 (preferring a three round burst per target or full auto on tight groups). He is packing AP rounds in all the magazines (one loaded, three spares). He is also still packing his revolver and two grenades (one WP and one standard). He is wearing his helmet and Kevlar wear (I am assuming fatigue pants are standard?)

5. viva the court of death.

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Ernesto and Mikal:
As the car approaches the parking lot in which it's needed, Ernesto and Mikal see one thouroughly dead goon in pieces with three others charging around the corner. Much closer to the Mustang are four similarly attired goons carrying full sized SMGs and wearing medium-heavy spectra with visored helmets. In the second story of the building across the street from the club is another one hastily folding up the bipod on his heavy machinegun. He doesn't look like he can get to the fight in time to make any difference, unlike the previously mentioned four, currently heading for the nondescript gray cargo van all 9 of them apparently arrived in. They did not stray far from it, and they will reach it in seconds.

The Mustang has so far received not even a glance from any of the goons, and neither Mikal nor Ernesto detect any more nearby.

Dirk and Blaine:
The other three immediately run for whatever cover they can find upon witnessing their companion's demise (it's still the same turn, that's just what they're doing)

Stavis and Benjamin:
((There's still nothing to execute here, so either say something or make a decision of some kind))

[Gerard_Paloma]

The first goon flies apart and the others begin to scramble. Dirk's eyes flash with delight.

Moving targets are always more fun.

He keeps his finger on the trigger as he strafes the stream of bullets across to the next goon.

[CorSec]

((Since it's still the same turn, I'm doing what I'm doing.))

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Dirk:
DF: 20
Adj AT: 19
Final roll: 27
MoS: 7

3 bullets hit
General locations: 1 x head, 1 x leg, 1 x arm
Specific head: R. temple
Damage: 14 (head fucking gone)

Spec. leg: R. foot
Damage: 14 (foot gone)

Spec. arm: R. elbow
Damage: 9 (arm blown off at elbow)

As the thugs swarm for cover, Dirk holds down the trigger, guiding his stream toward the next one. Though this causes most of the bullets to be wasted, it virtually guarantees hits. The first on-target round is the only one that really matters, as it catches the running target in the temple. While a temple shot is almost always fatal under any circumstances, the tough helmet provides enough resistance to the steel core round for it to expand sufficiently to blow the top of the man's head to pieces. Blood and brains showers large sections of the asphalt in the direction of the exit wound.

Just to add insult to mortal injury, the next two rounds blow his foot and arm off, the former causing his lifeless body's momentum to take a downward turn. The effect of his blown-open head hitting the pavement at running speed is too sickening to describe.

More carnage would have rained on the poor man, but Dirk's magazine runs dry at that moment.

Blaine:
Getting a decent sight picture with the Ruger, Blaine fires.

DF: 20
Adj ATs: 7, 6
Final roll: 15, 15
MoS: -5, -5

Blaine doesn't have many of Dirk's advantages, such as a fully automatic weapon, years of military training, and inhumanly good natural coordination. To top it off, he's caught unawares by the ferocious recoil, loud bang, and blinding flash of the ridiculously overpowered revolver, although his dimming features on his eyes and ears protect him from the second two. It is not surprising that he does not hit his target.

For her part, Stacey decides that it is better to remain as behind cover as possible than try to make a difference in this fight. She crouches against the door, still clutching her wound.

[Utsanomiko]

Stavis and Benjamin:
((There's still nothing to execute here, so either say something or make a decision of some kind))

Stavis is, um, still in the backseat of the car, pretty much watching where the driver goes. ((I assume they're out of the Bronx by now))

"Alright, can you drop me back off at Westminister or Commerce now? How about a few blocks up from it, so I don't have to deal with your pals again?" he says to the driver.

[CorSec]

Goddamn! Blaine remarks internally at the power of the Ruger.

Goddamn! Blaine remarks as he sees the BAR in action.

Seeing how effective the BAR is and how ineffective he is, Blaine ducks behind the relative safety of the Mustang. He decides that he'll wait for Dirk to stop shooting and provide cover fire for when he has to change magazines.

[Marcao]

It quickly became apparent to him that he had two possible targets to select between. The group of goons which had been carrying SMG's and wearing body armor or the target setting up in the second story building across the club. He decided that shooting the group made more tactical sense, considering that the man setting up was stationary and currently occupied. He was not aware of what Mikal was doing, but trusted his friend to do what came natural to him. His G36 was brought up and focused on the the men with the visored helmets before he switched to full auto and tried to rake the entire group. If he had no direct line of sight to the men, he would settle for using a three round burst on the target on the second floor. All the while, he tried to keep on top of enemy movements and maximize the use of cover in his current position.

[Gerard_Paloma]

Dirk almost doesn't notice that he's run out of ammo, enthralled with the gory display that the Browning put on. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Blaine take cover. Dirk follows suit in order to reload.

"If this thing had a bigger clip, it'd be perfect," he remarks as he ejects the empty magazine and slams in a new one.

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Turn 10:

Dirk and Blaine: Dirk ducks down to reload as Blaine pops up firing to keep their heads down ((you can't hit even on a 10 so there's no point rolling here)). This has the side benefit of giving Blaine a chance to see what kind of cover they managed to get to. One of them dove into a crater in the parking lot big enough that he only has to peek out his gun and his head above the nose to shoot, and not even the BAR shooting AP rounds will get through that much pavement and dirt to hit him elsewhere. The other is crouched behind half a rusted hulk of an automobile, the make and model now unidentifiable. Heavy AP rounds should be able to get through, but on top of the guy's armor, it would be similarly useless to shoot him where he's not exposed (ie. below the ankles and above the torso). Blaine's augmented hearing allows him to hear the man in the crater shout to his companion "Go for the thermate, I'll cover you!"

He tries to supress Blaine with automatic fire:

DF: 20
Adj AT: 0
Final roll: 2
MoS: -18 (too bad really low MoS's by themselves can't generate a spectacular failure, if only he had rolled a 1...)

As the range is significant and he just started firing without sighting Blaine in, he doesn't even hit the car with the burst, much less Blaine, but his finger's still on the trigger and he might be able to walk the stream.

Meanwhile, the other makes a dive for his fallen companion's corpse, which was lying just a few feet away, intent on a certain canister shaped grenade.

Ernesto:
As the first goon puts his hand on the handle to the van's sliding door, Ernesto opens up with his G36 behind the cover of a large diesel engine block. He brings up the gun to line up with the superimposed reticle on his Smartgun system, pausing for a split second only to finish exhaling in order to stabilize the firing platform, and suddenly deadly 7mm rounds fill the air and the night lights up, Ernesto's amazing natural hand-eye coordination heightened by modern technology ensure that the burst starts accurately and his augmented strength ensure that it stays that way.

((This is gonna be the biggest bloodbath yet ))

DF: 20
Adj AT: 29 (18 + 2 for full auto + 4 for them not expecting it + 5 for point blank)
Final rolls: 37, 36, 30 (a 1, but still a hit), 38
MoS: 17, 16, 10, 18

1st guy hit twice, 2nd guy hit twice, 3rd and 4th hit once.

1st guy:
Locations: L. eye (poor bastard!), L. collarbone
Damages: 14, 12
Effect: Quite dead

2nd guy:
Locations: Abdomen, l. Wrist
Damages: 12, 12
Effect: Back blown out, hand blown off

3rd guy:
Location: R. bicep
Damage: 7
Effect: Arm blown off

4th guy:
Location: R. collarbone
Damage: 11
Effect: Arm useless

Satisfaction is immediate when the trigger is pulled as the first round penetrates the man's visor and imbeds itself into his eye, the armor piercing slug mushrooming and fragmenting on impact with the armored surface to blow a silver dollar sized hole out the back of his head, painting the van with gray matter and skull fragments. The shot to the collarbone and the resulting geyser of blood is just icing on the cake.

As Ernesto walks the bullet stream toward the man's companions, he catches the second one twice, both blowing his hand off and putting a wound in the abdomen so grevious that one could stick his arm in one side and have it come out the other touching only air. Incapacitation is instantaneous. Bleeding out will occur in seconds.

The third man's armor hurts more than it helps, as is the norm for AP rounds, and the round that would have just put a nickel sized hole through his bicep instead blows his entire arm off. His wide eyes and blood curdling scream signal that he won't be a factor in this fight anymore.

The forth man gets off the lightest, yet in a way, least merciful of the four, suffering a non-fatal wound that destroys his collarbone and shoulder ligaments.

EDIT: Post edited to account for AP rounds.

((Mikal still gets to do his thing. That will be added when Hotfoot posts.))

[Marcao]

It could be argued that life was little more than a series of choices. The moment that Ernesto had left the vehicle, he had done the same but unlike Ernesto his chosen weapon was not a rifle, but an assault shotgun. He did not follow Ernesto, deciding that a little seperation offered the best protection to them both. He moved quickly, each step having purpose behind it. He heard Ernesto's G36 spit out its fire, and his head turned slightly just enough to catch the mayhem that ensued when rifle rounds met flesh, armored or otherwise. Ah, Ernesto still had not lost his touch. That was good. Two men fell quite dead, while two others were still alive. The temptation to kill them was strong, but it was not to be. Instead, after securing his own cover he took a second to point his USAS 12 in the direction of his target. The target was trying to fold his bipod at first, but now seemed as if he were trying to re-set up his weapon. It was a shame, for that hesitation would cost him dearly. His eyes narrowed slightly, his right forefinger pulling the trigger as he whispered softly to himself "Dos Vadonya." The shotgun kicked against him, he was not shooting bird shot, or even buck shot. Oh no, these were slugs and he had plenty of them...