The sound of a single bullet sliding into the chamber. The metal against metal with a final click and chime at the end is like a victory all by itself. I could climb down from this hill and feel victorious without ever firing the shot. Still, I have duty, a mission, and I intend to see it through.
Looking through the scope of my rifle, I see a hundred men that have no idea I am there. They walk back and forth in their appointed rounds, as if no one lie in wait to wreck their plans. I survey the compound and spot the power generator, the fuel station, and the headquarters.
There in the headquarters was the man I had to kill. It was funny how that always worked. These people were filed in like shark teeth. Knock one out, and another filled its place without hesitation. They'd have a new leader before the prior's death could be made into a proper press release.
So why am I here?
I thought about my wife. Cristina. I thought about our kids and how they'd live without people like me. I thought about the world if left to the violent and undisciplined. I thought about anarchy.
A single bullet could change that for them. Right here and right now I could shake the pressure. I could make a small difference by myself. I wish I wasn't alone, but my spotter had been killed. Luckily, they never found me, but someone is looking, I am sure.
The base was in no alert. Whoever killed my spotter, he wanted the kill for himself.
The crackle of sticks behind me was a foolish move, the act of an amateur. I spun my rifle around and caught my killer in my sights.
The rifle was silenced, I had no fear of exposure if I shot him. The suppressor on my gun was almost ridiculous. The faint click was all you could hear if I pulled the trigger. I didn't fire right away. I took careful aim at his heart. The hesitation wasn't so much for the proper aim, but to make sure he knew he had been beat. Right before I pulled the trigger, I saw the defeat in his eyes, right before his chest exploded with a close range shot.
Chatter.
A language I don't understand coming from the bushes around.
I didn't have time to reload.
I dropped the rifle and swung my machine pistol from the strap. I brought it up just in time to meet the further enemies coming from the bushes. The H&K was not silenced. It was loud, and deadly. It was only supposed to be used during emergencies.
None of this came up in my mind as I swung it for the head of the nearest attacker.
Bringing him to the ground with the impact, I watched three more coming. Luckily, all from the same direction, and I flipped the safety on my gun and opened the clip. My machine pistol spit steel at a rapid rate. It could unleash 30 shots before you could count to ten on your best day. At that volume, it didn't matter where they were hit.
I pulled my knife and plunged it into the skull of the squirming man beneath me. All movement immediately stopped.
four men dead around me, I could hear distant shouts from down below. I picked up my rifle and looked through the scope. The base below was alive. Men were running everywhere. They climbed into jeeps, manned towers, armed themselves with whatever they could find. My infiltration was blown.
What would Cristina think if she got a letter from the joint chiefs describing my death? Would she believe that it was honorable? Would she accept that my death had been in vain, or would she know that I did my best to make a difference?
Just then, their leader came out of the tent.
I could see him through my scope. I didn't hesitate and I pulled the trigger.
Click.
The sound of the empty rifle was like a signal of despair.
I hadn't had time to reload it!
The machine pistol was empty as well, and already I could hear the vehicles closing in on where I was.
I thought of the men identifying my dead body by my tattoos. I thought of them bringing down Cristina and our boys by somehow making the connection.
I thought of a world where men like this one ruled, and I fumbled for another bullet from the ammo belt across my chest.
Sliding another round in made the familiar metal to metal sound, with a slip and a click as I lowered the bolt and prepared the bullet to fire.
Back in my scope, I knew I had a mission to complete. Fuck the people coming to get me. I had to relocate, I knew that, but this may be my only chance.
My wife would never approve. She would tell me it wasn't worth all of the violence. She would say she's proud of me, but then I saw her being beheaded by these monsters.
"CRISTINA!" I yelled as I swung the rifle off of the leader and onto their fuel station, and fired my shot.
The bullet hit home, striking a spark in the ground by the fumes of the pump. The resulting explosion came forth with a wave of force that knocked me clean.
I took a minute and shook it off, and then I began to run.
They were sure to find me. I had just killed their leader, along with half of his security. They had vehicles and I was alone and on foot.
I continued to run. I left my rifle behind. I had nothing but an empty machine pistol.
I didn't care. I had made my difference that day. Whether or not I lived, my wife slept secure one more night.
With that, I can die.
Or I can escape, and let her live one more time.
If I ever get out of this, I'll hold a funeral anyway.
I ran on with that promise.
