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The Shot

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  01:25:14  14 April 2011
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The Ghost
(Senior)
 
On forum: 04/08/2011
 

Message edited by:
The Ghost
04/14/2011 1:43:49
Messages: 50
The Shot

This is my first piece of STALKER fiction, I wrote it in about an hour and a half. Comments are appreciated. Enjoy.

Sweat dripped from the scar into my eye. I shifted my grip on my binoculars and kept scanning. I had been waiting for days. Bread and stale Army rations kept me awake. Mines and tripwires kept me alive, making sure any curious mutant got turned into hamburger hundreds of meters before it had a chance to turn me into hamburger. I stared into my binoculars, then at my range card. I stared at my range card, then stared back into my binoculars. The orange atmosphere of the Zone turned from dawn to afternoon to dusk like it did every day. The orange sun burned into my suit, cooking me like an oven.

Three-hundred-and-fifty meters. Two targets approached out of the treeline three hundred and fifty meters away. Two of them, in thick leather coats. I zoomed in and consulted the images sent to me on my PDA. These were the men. The pointman for the group knew what he was doing, like me he was made for the Zone, never letting down his guard. He was constantly scanning, moving toward cover, trying to stay in shadows. He moved like a ghost. The second man must have been in the bathroom when God was handing out brain cells, however. He had long teeth, like fangs, and he was constantly licking them, while looking around him like a yuppie that just discovered a new block of condominiums.

The pointman would go first. Judging by his partners lack of attentiveness, he would likely just stand there over his dead partner and wait his turn. I put down my binoculars and brought my VSS over from my right side. The stock felt comforting in my shoulder, and a fresh magazine was already in the weapon. I pulled back the bolt, exposing the shining 9x39mm round, a special bullet so powerful it could rip a hole in any body armor, and open a hole in its wearer so large he could stick his hand through and wipe his arse. Ten more rounds sat below the first, waiting for the day when they too would go to Brass Heaven, or wherever shell casings go, where they could brag about holding the bullet that killed so-and-so, or whatever. Fuck. Focus. The men were getting closer to me. The first one filled up the 300m marker on the PSO-1s range finder, and the second one was right behind him. I would take them at 250 meters.

Two hundred and fifty meters. Bread and butter for any sniper, or maybe not so, since anyone with vision and a heartbeat would see the muzzle flash from that distance. Not so with my VSS. Before the round even got an inch away from the casing, baffles were already absorbing the gases from the explosion in the chamber, funneling it out through holes drilled in the suppressor. The muzzle flash would be stifled before the bullet even left the barrel. Two hundred and fifty meters. I put four clicks into my PSO-1, one for every 50 meters. No wind. The red chevron of the PSO-1 went onto the first mans head, nice and slow. The safety flicked off with a sound so loud my heartbeat jumped triple digits. I was ready.

Four-point-five pounds. I had modified my VSS' trigger so at exactly four and a half pounds, it would release the hammer and send the round flying down the chamber in an action so fast and so well planned the eye barely had time to register it. Four-point-five pounds. I placed four on the trigger and waited for the moment. The chevron stayed steady on Number One's head. Four point one. Four point two. Four point three. Squeeze, dont pull. Four point four. Four point five.

The trigger instantly released the hammer, which flew forward into the firing pin. The firing pin flew forward, striking the primer of the round dead center. The pressure made the propellant inside the round explode, pushing the bullet away from the casing and sending it flying down the chamber. Gases from the explosion exited the rifle from the holes drilled into the baffles. The bullet flew forward. Excess gas was sent back into the rifle, driving the bolt back, sending the smoking casing out, and selecting the next one in the magazine, bringing it up to where it predecessor was fired. The bolt closed and the bullet flew out of the barrel, the muzzle flash turned to smoke by the suppressor and the sound muted, no louder than the coughing of a man who had had a life of too many unfiltered cigarettes.
I watched through my scope, absorbing the recoil and bringing it back down. Little wisps of steam were in my scope from where the round said fuck you to the air around it and pushed past it any wait it could, traveling toward its target.

Two hundred meters away, the bullet struck Number One slightly above the nose. He must have been gripping his rifle tightly, because when the round sent whatever was left of his brain into spasms, his finger depressed the trigger with a death grip, sending the rounds of his AK74 everywhere, and as he fell back, into his partner. No need for a second shot. Number One would have a closed casket funeral, and Number Two was perforated like Swiss cheese from the impact of multiple 5.45mm rounds fresh from Number Ones AK74. Both targets dead. I watched them for movement from behind my PSO-1. Nothing. I sent a message on my PDA, pressed a fresh round into my VSS' magazine, inserted the magazine back into the weapon, moved the safety back on, and left. The casing went into my pocket, destined not for Brass Heaven, but to a reloading press. The sky was red. An emission was approaching. I did not have much time. I drank an energy drink, this time an 8-ounce can of Rip-It, and got moving.
  01:50:52  14 April 2011
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Bladewraith
Senior Resident
 

 
On forum: 10/21/2010
Messages: 306
Its good, fantastic description of weapon mechanics, nice to see, and good detail all round, however should we assume, you're talking about The Fang and Ghost then the timeline doesn't fit, any other potential targets its fine.

My one "Constructive" Criticism is the repetition,

---QUOTATION---
Mutant got turned into hamburger hundreds of meters before it had a chance to turn me into hamburger.

Three-hundred-and-fifty meters. Two targets approached out of the treeline three hundred and fifty meters away.
---END QUOTATION---



The second hamburger, could have been changed to something like:
Mutant got turned into hamburger hundreds of meters before it had a chance to do the same to me.

And the range had been already been stated

i don't mean to sound awkward, i'm genuinely trying to help, whenever i right i try and notice my own repetition and change the words even slightly, but i'm guilty of it also.

all in all good short story, i look forward to reading more of your stuff
  01:55:19  14 April 2011
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The Ghost
(Senior)
 
On forum: 04/08/2011
 

Message edited by:
The Ghost
04/14/2011 1:56:00
Messages: 50
Thanks, I was reading about Fang and Ghost on the STALKER wiki, read about Ghost taking a round from a VSS from a man with a scar, and then I opened up Wordpad and got to work. I mentioned the range multiple times to simulate Scar going through the details again and again in his head, making sure he got everything right. But, I agree about it being repetitive. Thanks for the help.
  02:09:08  14 April 2011
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Ghost_22
Senior Resident
 

 
On forum: 10/28/2009
 

Message edited by:
Ghost_22
04/14/2011 2:10:30
Messages: 429
Good reminds my of the first post from one of my stories in the details. Interested in seeing more and you picked a good name.
  02:46:34  14 April 2011
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The Ghost
(Senior)
 
On forum: 04/08/2011
Messages: 50
Thanks, Im working on a longer story called Blood and Brass, based on Freedom
  04:09:54  14 April 2011
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DisabledDino
(Novice)
 
On forum: 01/11/2011
 

Message edited by:
DisabledDino
04/14/2011 4:11:17
Messages: 27
Great story!

It was almost poetic at the beginning, but when you started to describe the gun mechanisms and Scars thought process, the images were crystal clear in my head. I loved it!

I'm looking forwards to your next story.

(the double hamburger thing stated above should be changed, but the repetition was pretty good. It's just the sentence that's awkward.)

--Edit--

I hope we will see some anarchist blood being spilled on the grass
 
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