There are five parts, each one focusing on one of the members of the Black Pigs, with one focusing on events concerning the Black Pigs. The shorts are presented in chronological order, but obviously do not follow each other directly in any fashion. Maybe if the urge strikes me, I'll flesh out the entire campaign in short story format, but for now, I present to you...the Black Pigs! Pay attention, there's a quiz later.
Part 1
Arnade looked at his partners and shook his head, smiling. Marcao aside, the Black Pigs were not enjoying this formal affair. But, they had needed to get in to do some research on their latest case. Barry was getting something to drink, as usual, and Avery was checking to see if anyone was carrying a weapon. He had felt uncomfortable coming without any sort of firearm, and now it was beginning to show. It bordered on paranoia, perhaps, that Avery worried about an ambush at any time, but that sense of caution had been helpful many a time before, so Arnade let it pass. Meanwhile, Arnade had things to do. The music had just started up again, and that was his cue.
"Pardon me, madam, but would you perhaps be so kind as to allow me this dance?"
"Oh, such a gentleman. I'd love to."
Arnade smiled and took her hand. Fortunately, they were playing a waltz. While he did enjoy dancing to other classical music, most of the pieces from the mid-1900's on were usually a bit too frentic for sparking up a conversation.
"My, you're quite the dancer, miss..."
"Katryn. Katryn Stahl. I work in the Southern League Foreign Affairs office in the Executive Tower."
"A pleasure, Miss Stahl."
"Call me Katryn. You're a pretty good dancer yourself, mister..."
"You may call me Arnade, Katryn."
"Mmm, I see," she laughed lightly as the two continued to dance. "So, what department are you from? I don't recall ever seeing around before."
"Oh, I'm a new hire. Just joined a few days ago, actually. They've had me running around dealing with all the new paperwork problems that the new delegation has brought with it," not quite a lie, not quite the whole truth, the best of both worlds in a pinch. With the hectic past few days, who would notice another new face?
"Poor thing. Not even a week on the job and already they've got you buried under mountains of paperwork. Don't worry though, it only gets worse."
They both chuckled. The music had changed now. It was faster, more powerful. A tango, rather than a waltz. Arnade looked at Katryn to see if she was up for it. The smile playing on her lips was all the answer he needed.
"So, what had they got you stuck doing?"
"Oh, just this, that, and the million other things."
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse. You wouldn't believe the reports that hit my desk. Those diplomats from the Southern Leagues are a nightmare sometimes."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. You have no idea what it's like. There's this old geezer from the Emirates who tried to cop a feel last week. Tah-pah something-or-other."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. Told him next time I'd call security, but he keeps coming back to hit on me. He's total scum. I hear that every night he's got a different woman, too. Sometimes more than one."
"You'd think he'd run out of willing women in the arcology after too long, at that rate."
"I know. I guess he's got some regulars that he's fond of or something. I can't imagine anyone who'd want to willingly associate with that sleaze for very long though."
"The way you describe him, I'm surprised he can even get any second dates."
"He probably has to pay them for the second, then blackmail them for everything after."
Arnade laughed, dipping his partner.
"Sounds like a plan. What if I offered you a few hundred dollars for your company for an evening?"
"Well, if you're this good of a dancer all of the time, I wouldn't ask for money," a sly smile crept across her face. "Besides, you're a gentleman, not a perverted old geezer."
"Fair enough," At this point, a good part of the crowd was watching Arnade and Katryn dance. Both were skilled dancers, it seemed, and both were putting on quite the performance even with the running dialogue whispered as they drew close in the intensifying dance. As the music ended, there was considerable applause from the collective guests.
"Whew...I've been chained up behind my desk for too long. I think I need a drink."
"Certainly. It was a pleasure, Katryn."
"Oh, the pleasure was mine, Arnade. I'll be back in a moment."
So, Arnade thought, Tapa Shan has a string of mistresses, does he? I'll have to let the others know. This could be just the lead we've been looking for.
Part 2
"Okay, so does anyone here have any ideas?" Marcao was understandably irritated. Terrorists had holed up in the brothel across the street. As chance would have, the reporter who was trying to follow the Black Pigs around was tailing a story and happened to be there when it happened. Arnade had tried to negociate with the terrorists to let the reporter go in return for himself, but instead simply wound up as an extra hostage. Backup had been called for, but nothing major for some time, and the Peace Officer Corps didn't like to negotiate with terrorists as of late.
Avery was still rattled from nearly being turned into swiss cheese by a terrorist who had surprised him with an assault rifle. Barry could tell just by looking at him that his only thoughts were that of vengeance, blood, and death. Avery was like that. Marcao was still a little shell-shocked from having a sniper blast a hole through the engine block of his unmarked car. And Arnade...what the hell was Arnade thinking? Chances are he wasn't, he was just trying to save an innocent. He's usually doing stupid things to save people, but this is a new one.
"Barry?"
"I'm thinking, I'm thinking. Dispatch said that they're setting up snipers to take out the terrorists by the windows, but they can't be sure that the ones inside won't do something once their buddies are taken down."
"Right, and we're the closest unit, so that means-"
"-we gotta find a way in, yeah." Something caught Barry's eye, and immediately he got an idea.
"Marcao, check the database for information on the sewer system in this area."
"Think there might be a way underground?"
"Could be. With luck, they won't see us coming until it's too late to do anything about it, and it sure as hell beats using the front door."
"Right," Marcao looked over his PDA as information from the Peace Officer's Database flew past. Finding what he was looking for, he smiled. "Bingo. Access about seven meters that way, should lead directly into the brothel."
"Let's go then. Avery, you stay here and cover this position, Marcao and I are going in. I'll leave Gabby with you, in case you need it. Just treat her well," Avery nodded as Barry handed him the high-powered grenade launcher, "Marcao, leave the assault rifle with Avery and just grab that silenced SMG. The less noise we make, the better."
"Good idea. Let's go."
Barry and Marcao crept silently through the sewer, looking for any signs of the terrorists. The brothel had been their hideout, it seemed, and the hostages were primarily patrons, with the exception of the reporter, and now Arnade. It was possible that they had posted sentries down here, or left some nasty surprises should the POC come sniffing around. After a few minutes of sneaking through the sewers, they found a door below where the brothel should be. It was large, metal, and locked. It was probably put in some time after the terrorists set up shop in the brothel, as it would allow them to move more or less unnoticed through the arcology. Barry motioned for Marcao to stop, then checked the door for any telltale signs of a trap. Finding none, he fished out his lockpicking tools and started work on the lock. It was a good one, but not good enough to keep Barry from quietly slipping all of the tumblers into a row and opening the door.
Just inside the door, Barry saw two terrorists, their backs to him, one of whom was busy working on something that he couldn't quite see. The door swung open, and just before the two terrorists even knew what was happening, Barry flipped his own silenced submachinegun onto full automatic and opened fire. Like puppets cut from their strings, the bodies of the two men fell to the ground, riddled with holes. Once confident that they had not been discovered, Barry and Marcao crept inside and looked at what had occupied the attention of the terrorists. They both paled as Barry uncovered ten kilos of high explosives, not yet fully rigged to blow. That much would take out the brothel and anything nearby, as well as do serious structural damage to this part of the arcology. These people were definitely playing for keeps, and they had Arnade.
Barry and Marcao exchanged a quick glance and started up the stairs quietly, towards the area where the hostages were likely being kept. These guys were going to learn the hard way why you never crossed the Black Pigs.
Part 3
"Understood. Marcao out," he nodded and ended the call on his cell phone. Now that he knew he was cleared to negotiate, he could get to business. When he got back to the hospital room, Barry and Avery were waiting for him. He nodded to them and then approached the heavily bandaged figure on the bed.
"Y'wanna deal then, I take it?" The man on the bed hacked out a rough chuckle.
"Sure. You seem to be more talkative now that PaxSec is done with you. What do you want, Don?"
"Like I said, total immunity and a new life in the South."
"And in return, what will you give us?"
"I gather a lot of dirt, smuggling dirty goods. Look, the Forzi Cartel doesn't have an independent network in Peace River. I can get you all sorts of information on the BRF, plus a few other things."
Marcao's curiosity was piqued, "Go on."
"You know, I think I took one too many knocks on the head when I was with PaxSec, because I seem to distinctly remember offering my services in exchange for something."
"You'll get it, it's been cleared by my superiors."
"One more thing though. I want to be kept safe for as long as it takes to get me my new life in the South."
"Once you're out of intensive care, we'll see what we can do. Is there anything else you'd be willing to tell us now?"
"Well...I do have some dirt you might be interested in, but I gotta know, are you clean?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you on the take?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"Well, if you're not, then you're cleaner than some of the guys you work with in the CIB."
"What? I thought the head of CIB was cracking down on corrupt officers."
"Sure he is, the ones that don't do what he says."
"That's some pretty serious stuff, Don. Can you back any of it up?"
"Sure, once I get confirmation on my requests, and solid confirmation, I'll give you everything you need."
"Good, I'd be very interested in seeing that."
Just as Marcao had finished talking, a nurse walked into the room pushing a trolly. Marcao exchanged glances with Avery and Barry, who had instinctively turned towards the nurse as she came in. Confusion was equally apparent in both of their eyes, and they were just about to turn around again when something caught Marcao's eye under the trolley's covers...
...A submachinegun.
By the time the nurse had started to reach for it, Marcao had already whipped out his thirteen millimeter revolver. She hit the ground without even having turned off the safety on her weapon. The abruptness of the action combined with the deafening sound of the report caught everyone else off guard. Don looked at the scene in a mixture of horror and relief.
"Aw hell, that's gotta be the BRF."
"Think they figured you were gonna talk, Don?"
"Hey, I told you I was gonna need safekeeping!"
"I'll seriously consider it if we manage to live beyond the next five minutes. Barry, Avery, let's see if there are any more around."
"They always work in teams!"
"Don, keep it down. The less noise you make, the more likely you are to get out of here alive."
Don got the message, but squirmed uncomfortably in his hospital bed. He was feeling very vulnerable right now, but at least they had given him a bedpan...
Wordlessly, Marcao, Avery, and Barry went to the door leading to the hallway, where the two officers were keeping watch. Barry was about to go out and check, but Avery and Marcao stopped him. Moving into a covering position instead, nearby Marcao, Barry waited while Avery opened the door.
Four figures stood beyond the door, and none of them were wearing Peace Officer Uniforms. Apparently after hearing the report of Marcao's revolver, they had decided to ambush whoever was inside the hospital room, then mop up the mess later. One of the terrorists fumbled for a grenade and threw it into the room, directly at Marcao.
Under his breath, he cursed and just hoped that he wasn't about to commit suicide as he gently caught the grenade in midair, spun around, keeping the velocity from stopping suddenly, then lobbed the grenade back into the hallway, behind the shocked terrorists.
"Avery! Door!"
Avery complied and slammed the door shut just before the concussion grenade went off, shielding the room from the worst of the resulting explosion. Marcao looked at Barry, who moved to the other side of the door from Avery to cover him. Silently, he mouthed a countdown, at the end of which Avery opened the door again and finished off the terrorists who had not been killed or incapacitated by the grenade. Slowly, Avery ventured outside into the hallway. Down both corridors, he couldn't see anything.
"Looks clear, Marcao."
"What about the guards?"
"Dead. Shot repeatedly at short range."
"Figures. Any more of them out there?"
"Doesn't look like it. Let's call in for backup anyway though."
"Right, I'm on it," Marcao reached for his police band earpiece and was about to transmit when-
"Oh shit! GRENADES!" Avery dove back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Barry leaped behind a hospital bed, flipping it on its side to use as a protection from the resulting explosion, and Marcao saw why just before Avery had closed the door. There were at least four grenades this time, all like the one that had just gone off in the hallway. Diving behind Don's bed, he flipped it on the side just as Barry had done, roughly throwing the injured smuggler to the floor in the process. If he had cried out in protest, Marcao didn't hear it, the resulting explosion drowning out all other sound. Flames billowed into the room and the door was blown off its hinges and sent flying into the room. The walls spewed shrapnel in every direction, and suddenly Marcao remembered Avery, who had been standing out in the open when the grenades went off.
He looked up for just a moment to see Avery jump up and "catch" the door in midair, using it as a shield from the heat and the shrapnel, riding the explosion like some would ride a wave in the old Earther Trideos. When he landed, the door was beneath him and his eleven millimeter automatic pistol was drawn, pointing towards the door, waiting for someone to come and check if they were dead. Looking down at Don, Marcao checked to see if the smuggler was still alive. It was then that he noticed a metal rod that had been thrust through the bed during the explosion, just a mere three inches from his head.
***
Satisfied that the smuggler was safe for the time being, Marcao, Barry, and Avery finally checked to see what the terrorists were up to. Once more, the hallway was clear, and this time for good, it seemed. Marcao contacted dispatch to inform them of the situation, and was told that units were already on the scene, having been alerted by the first explosion. For once, luck seemed to be on their side, and reinforcements were already reaching their position on the twenty-third floor from the VTOL pad on the roof. Marcao sent four men to move the smuggler to a safer location, then proceeded to help evacuate the rest of the building, floor by floor. The area where the grenades had gone off had damaged both the floor that they were on and the floor above, and possibly the floor below. Meanwhile, police on we covering every exit and entrance to the building, waiting for the terrorists to make their next move. As they were evacuating the twenty-second floor, Marcao noticed an open panel, leading to a rather large hole in the wall. He cursed under his breath and started transmitting on the Peace Officer's band.
"This is Marcao in the S.T. Hospital. We have reason to believe that the BRF may have crawled into the service ducts to evade, over."
"Copy that, we'll keep an eye out for them, over and out."
For a moment, Marcao considered going in to try and follow them, but it looked like a bit of a tight squeeze for him. Avery and Barry couldn't possibly fit. If Arnade were here, he could fit in easily, but...
Before he could finish that thought, he received a transmission over the Peace Officer band. Some terrorists had been spotted a few floors below and were heading towards the ground floor. The three Black Pigs looked at each other, shrugged, and moved on. As they turned the corner, a nurse stopped just short of running into Marcao.
"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to calmly make your way to the twenty-fifth floor. It's not safe down here right now." Marcao showed her his badge to hopefully calm her down and make his job easier.
"I'm sorry Officer, but I'm trying to find a little girl. I lost track of her after the explosions, and I can't just leave her down here."
"Don't worry, we'll help you find her. Can you give me her name and description?"
"Her name is Maia. She's about eight cycles old, and has short black hair and a deep tan skin. She's got brought in after her parents were killed by a BRF bomb, so the explosions and gunfire must have terrified her."
Marcao winced in sudden realization. The service ducts.
***
Marcao muttered as he stripped off his flak vest, shoulder holster, and a variety of other equipment he had with him, leaving him with just his plainclothes, his earpiece and transmitter, his badge, and a flashlight.
"Damnit Barry, you're good with kids."
"Yeah, but I won't fit in there, and neither would Avery. Just speak in low, soothing tones and be friendly. You'll be fine."
"I hope you're right," Marcao crawled into the service duct and switch on the flashlight so he could see. "This is my last good deed of the cycle, Barry. I swear, after this, I do nothing unless I get paid a nice, big bonus, half in advance."
"That's what you said last week," Barry chuckled. Marcao muttered something about "Badlander's Lie" and started working his way through the service ducts, away from the laughter coming from Barry and Avery.
Now Marcao faced another problem. How was he going to track a small child hiding in these laberynthene service ducts? An overturned tray by her original point of entry had suggested the first direction that he should try, but after that, he didn't know. There was no left or right without going back into the hospital itself so that left up and down, forward and backward. Holding the pen-sized flashlight in his mouth like a cigar, Marcao mused to himself aloud.
"Lessee...she was on the floor below us when the grenades went off. A kid might want to see what just happened, but like the nurse said, she'd be scared after a bomb killed her parents. Probably want to get as far away as possible. Down, then keep going forward," he just hoped he was right, and that she hadn't taken a fall in her rush to hide, as the three meter drop between levels could seriously hurt her. If the service ducts weren't staggered, it would be a twenty-two story drop... and with that thought in his mind, Marcao took the flashlight in his hand and began crawling faster, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice as he called the girl's name in hope for a response.
When he got to the first drop, he was relieved to see that it did end three meters down, and that he wasn't greeted by the sight of Maia's lifeless form. After climbing down, he looked around for more solid clues pertaining to the little girl's trail. Transmission filled his ear. It was Barry.
"Any luck yet?"
"Well, I think I'm on the right trail, but it's hard to be sure. I'll let you know when I find her."
"Hope you make that soon."
A beat passed as Marcao digested that. "How bad is it?"
"Not bad enough yet, according to chatter on the band, but it's looking to get worse."
"Great. Let me know."
"I will. You do your good deed for the cycle," in the background, Marcao could swear he heard Avery's muffled laughter. He muttered again and kept searching for clues.
Several meters later, around a sharp ninety degree turn, he caught sight of a something small and black diving down into another drop.
"Maia? Is that you?" No response. "Maia, I'm Detective Marcao Vesal of the Peace Officer Corps. The nurse who was taking care of you is very worried about you and asked me to try and find you."
Finally, Maia's small head peeked up from behind the ledge. Marcao breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he was afraid she had fallen. He turned the knob on the flashlight so that it acted more as a lamp, spreading a soft light in all directions so that she could see him as he held up his badge.
"Notta bad man?"
"No, Maia, I'm here to help you. I'm going to make sure that the bad men don't hurt you, okay?"
Silence fell as the little girl stared at Marcao uncertainly for a moment. Putting away his badge, he started edging towards Maia.
"Don't be afraid, Maia," please don't be afraid, please don't run, please just get up from that ledge and come to me so this will all be over, you'll be safe, and I'll be able to sleep tonight. "I'm going to come get you now, okay? Just stay calm. I won't let anything bad happen to you."
"Promise?"
"I promise." Now only a half a meter from the girl, he put down his flashlight and reached out to her slowly. "Take my hand, Maia, can you take my hand?" She shook her head, tears rolling from her eyes. She was scared of letting go of the rungs she was hanging onto. Bracing himself against the duct walls, he reached out and down with both arms to gently pick her up and onto his level of the ducts. When she was all the way up, she clutched to Marcao tightly, and he could feel moisture seeping through his clothes where she had buried her head. "It's okay Maia, you're safe now. We've got to get you out of these ducts now, okay? There's a very worried nurse who is going to be very relieved to see that you're all right."
Maia just nodded, still clutching tightly to Marcao as he started making his way to the nearest grate leading to the hospital.
Part 4
Dunkan Mykels whistled as he inspected the truck that just came in to the POC impound yard.
"Look at those holes, Ian. Whaddya think made them?"
"Dunno...looks almost as bad as that CIB unmarked car that came in the other week, remember that?"
"Yeah. Hell, engine and the transmission got shot out by a sniper rifle down at the red light district, right? Spent a week working on that mess. Still, these don't go all the way through. Probably not a rifle round."
"You sure? This truck looks pretty tough, military grade even. Would take a hell of a handgun to punch a hole like that into the side of this thing."
"Nah, a thir-mill could do that, easy. Just hope it didn't hit anything vital."
"And if it did?"
"Hope nobody wants this in a hurry," Dunkan motioned to the truck as he headed to the data terminal. "I'm gonna check the plates and registry, you start given 'er the once over."
"I'm on it."
Duncan plugged in his dataglove to the computer terminal and started filling out all the paperwork for this vehicle. In the background, he scanned the database to find out who this truck belonged to. Maybe then he could find out why it had bullet holes in the side, a shattered driver's side window and windshield, and burn marks all over the body of the truck on the driver's side. They'd found the truck ditched outside of the arcology, and the trail showed that it was coming in from pretty far out. They were locking down the Arcology because...well, nobody was saying why exactly, but the rumor mill said it was something having to do with the Northern fleet on maneuvers in the arcology's protectorate.
"Sweet Prophet!"
Dunkan was jolted out of his train of thought by Ian's sudden proclamation. "What is it?"
"Dunkan, c'mere and look at this!"
Groaning, he disconnected his dataglove and left the terminal to continue doing something useful while Ian wasted his time again. He was a good kid, but definitely inexperienced. Captain Chan was either trying to get Ian to mature by assigning the young technician here, or he was sore about losing all of those card games back when he was a patrol officer.
"Whatcha got for me Ian?"
"Check this out, back here," he motioned towards the rear of the vehicle. The tailgate was already down, and the upper partition was up. Inside were several rather large containers, tied down and covered loosely with a tarp.
"What, supplies for going out into the Badlands? So what?"
Ian threw back the tarp and opened one of the containers to show Dunkan the contents. The older man's eyes opened wide at what he saw.
"Holy shit, a grenade launcher?"
"Yeah, and look at the rest of this stuff. Submachineguns, some assault rifles, an assault carbine, a bunch of hand grenades, a sniper rifle, custom job that one. Then there's a couple of boxes with a few kilos of extra ammo."
"What about that big one?"
"Be my guest."
Dunkan tried to pull the box closer so that he could open it from a better point of view, but he could barely get it to budge. "Ian, help me with this damn thing, it's too heavy to get by myself." With Ian's help, they managed to ease it closer to the edge of the truck.
"What was that, forty kilos?"
"Felt like fifty to me kid. What's in here, Neutronium?" Dunkan undid the latches from the box and lifted the lid.
"Huh. So that's where the grenades for the grenade launcher were. I was wondering about that."
"Sweet, merciful prophet, there has to be at least a hundred grenades in this thing! I thought they said this was ride registered with the Peace Officer Corps. This looks more like an Army ride. Even the Special Weapons Operations Squad doesn't pack this much firepower without loading it in an APC or a Hopper."
"I keep wondering when I'll find the secret compartment with the guided missile launcher or the heavy machinegun."
"By the Prophet hope that there isn't one. Put all that stuff back the way you found it and just focus on assessing the damage. I'll find out what I can about the details concerning this thing," First off, who stole it, who'd they steal it from, and just how big of a crater will there be when they find the poor bastard who stole it?
It seemed obvious that whoever had ditched the truck probably stole it, and most likely didn't know or didn't care about the arsenal in the back. Or maybe they planted it there…no, that wouldn't make sense. The blood is too fresh. Whoever ditched it wouldn't have time to plant anything, and if they did, they probably would have bled on just more than the driver's side. There probably wasn't a second passenger, since they would have taken over driving once the driver got hit, and again there would have been a wider dispersal of blood in the truck.
Meanwhile, more technicians were talking about the "Little Landship" that had been brought in. The techs on break tried to hammer out who the truck could have originally belonged to. General opinion was that it was probably a Special Weapons Operations Squad "Unmarked" Car, others figured that considering where it was coming from, it was probably a military patrol or something. A few hours later, Dunkan got a message through the grapevine that the original owners were on their way to pick up their ride. The betting pool already reached some three hundred dollars between all the guys on duty, and Dunkan was eager to see who was right...
Part 5
All hell had broken loose around Avery. Automatic gunfire from all angles spit dozens of bullets through the air. He only hoped that the flak vest he had slipped on would be enough protection to get him out of this mess alive. Clutching his custom nine millimeter sniper rifle with both hands, he took stock of his surroundings. There were at least a dozen enemy agents, and his backup was going to take some time to get to his position, if it got there at all..
Today has already been a long, hard day, and this was not helping. Anger boiled inside Avery, and he checked his supply of ammunition. Six in the magazine, and two extra magazines on hand, just like always. Should be more than enough, he thought as he peeks out behind his cover to check out his situation again, just in time to see the cargo crates Marcao was hiding behind erupt just a meter from where his partner was standing.
Avery knew from the sound of the report the details that the impact didn't tell him, that was a fifteen millimeter rifle, military grade. It wasn't firing the usual sabot rounds, either, it was using the full-bore ball rounds, the kind that could punch through a solid city block. They other side had a sniper, with a big gun, too.
Marcao started running for a new, sturdier piece of cover as Avery ducked behind his own concealment just in time to avoid being peppered with machinegun fire. Another inch of his cargo crate disappeared in a flurry of splinters and packaging.
"Avery, you take that guy down, and I'll buy you dinner for a week!"
Marcao knew how to pique Avery's interest. He popped out again, lined up a quick snapshot with the enemy sniper, and ducked behind cover before his opponents could return the favor. The roughly two-centimeter hole near where Avery had been just a moment before showed that he had got the other sniper's attention, though he had missed the mark. Either this guy was lucky, or he was good. Maybe both, but that wasn't Avery's concern. He popped out again and let off a second quick shot at the sniper. This time when he pulled back, he could feel the disturbance of the air as the fifteen millimeter ball rushed past at supersonic speeds. His light flak vest could stop most low-caliber weapons, but something like that sniper rifle wouldn't even so much as slow down if it hit him. All the more reason to make the next shot count. Avery came out from behind his cover for a third time, lined up his shot, and pulled the trigger before pulling himself back to the safety of concealment.
Later, Avery would remember the time that he had brushed with death. He had faced the single greatest fear of any sniper and survived to tell the tale. As he had lined up the final shot, he saw only one thing through his scope, the barrel of his opponent. They had seen each other at the same exact time. They had lined up their shots simultaneously.
The only difference was that Avery had fired first.
When they found the body of the sniper, it was clear who had won the fight. Avery's bullet had gone through the scope of the fifteen millimeter rifle, into the sniper's eye, and out the back of his head. The one and a half centimeter hole in the roof of the massive warehouse where the fight had taken place showed the difference that a fraction of a second could make.
==============================================
And now, the quiz! (What, you thought I was joking?
)Don't worry, it's a personality quiz. Which Black Pigs Member are you?
