FernStone
NoriWasHere
Sky Blue
Zombiedude101
TokyoPewPew
Estylwen
Framing A Moose
Knight 7
Pandora13"I've got your back, Brother. Lead on."
It was good to have no Comms in his ear. No barking handler trying to feed in info from a logistics lieutenant in some office bunkers six miles away spewing crap about statistics and thermal imaging. Just the eyes and a calm, quiet demeanor. Professionals. Mark appreciated that kind of knowledge, only hoping they'd be able to sync up in a positive way once the bullets started flying. For now, it was playing the hunting game.
It was best to get as far into the muck as one could before things started going crazy. The element of surprise was the only thing a soldier could pray for on the field, getting the drop on whoever you could usually ended up being like shooting fish in a barrel. Once a flank could be established, a direction one could be sure was clear and unmolested by some hammering force providing reinforcement, you could essentially open up to whatever sort of tactic you wanted. Continue the clandestine assault was always most difficult, especially once communication between the targets started to get more spotty with each corpse. Check-ins become discoveries, and quickly the element of surprise is all but consumed in a swarm of angry morons.
As the duo hugged the edge of the building, the schematics they'd gone over became clearer from a ground perspective. The warehouses, hastily built hangar-like structures with single or double layer corrugated metal exteriors, formed something of an upside-down "U" shape in relation to the main gate of which both men had a fairly clear view. That front was guarded by a small row of men with guns, their equipment half bundled beneath jackets or sweaters to protect from the cold autumn morning. They blocked the space between an airlock of gates with a set of mechanical bollards between each of them to prevent frontal vehicular assault.
"What, do they think we're just gonna drive up and subpoena them? We're not fucking cops..." Mark gritted out from between his clenched jaw.
He raised the barrel of his rifle up instinctively, the integral suppressor capable of making things a hair quieter than its screw-on cousin. At least, it would if they shared a caliber... The two and a half times magnified sight lined up perfect into the back of a guard's neck, and he could see the man's breath rising up from behind the silhouette of his head in a vague pattern. He's humming, Mark thought.
But he dropped his stance as they reached the corner of the building. The flood lights from inside one of the open hangar doors filled the section of the courtyard with electric light that couldn't be avoided, and was probably the main reason they had so much shadow cover currently. It simply drew the eye, though things became a bit more complicated when half a dozen chatty voices started to echo out from just around the corner.
They sauntered out; clearly another group of toughs, and from their plodding path toward the front, it looked like there was a shift change coming in just a couple seconds. Mark automatically wondered if the whole facility was swapping hands. His watch said o'five-fifty.
"I think we've got a ten minute split, partner. Looks like shift change is six? You wanna get in there, or try to head for the long way around back and look for another possible entrance?"
Mark had only paused a moment before a grim expression crossed over his fully covered face.
"Or, you know... Ten ducks in a row." he said, throwing a hand gesture toward the gate guards and the slowly approaching relief crew. "Great way to get the party started."
It was good to have no Comms in his ear. No barking handler trying to feed in info from a logistics lieutenant in some office bunkers six miles away spewing crap about statistics and thermal imaging. Just the eyes and a calm, quiet demeanor. Professionals. Mark appreciated that kind of knowledge, only hoping they'd be able to sync up in a positive way once the bullets started flying. For now, it was playing the hunting game.
It was best to get as far into the muck as one could before things started going crazy. The element of surprise was the only thing a soldier could pray for on the field, getting the drop on whoever you could usually ended up being like shooting fish in a barrel. Once a flank could be established, a direction one could be sure was clear and unmolested by some hammering force providing reinforcement, you could essentially open up to whatever sort of tactic you wanted. Continue the clandestine assault was always most difficult, especially once communication between the targets started to get more spotty with each corpse. Check-ins become discoveries, and quickly the element of surprise is all but consumed in a swarm of angry morons.
As the duo hugged the edge of the building, the schematics they'd gone over became clearer from a ground perspective. The warehouses, hastily built hangar-like structures with single or double layer corrugated metal exteriors, formed something of an upside-down "U" shape in relation to the main gate of which both men had a fairly clear view. That front was guarded by a small row of men with guns, their equipment half bundled beneath jackets or sweaters to protect from the cold autumn morning. They blocked the space between an airlock of gates with a set of mechanical bollards between each of them to prevent frontal vehicular assault.
"What, do they think we're just gonna drive up and subpoena them? We're not fucking cops..." Mark gritted out from between his clenched jaw.
He raised the barrel of his rifle up instinctively, the integral suppressor capable of making things a hair quieter than its screw-on cousin. At least, it would if they shared a caliber... The two and a half times magnified sight lined up perfect into the back of a guard's neck, and he could see the man's breath rising up from behind the silhouette of his head in a vague pattern. He's humming, Mark thought.
But he dropped his stance as they reached the corner of the building. The flood lights from inside one of the open hangar doors filled the section of the courtyard with electric light that couldn't be avoided, and was probably the main reason they had so much shadow cover currently. It simply drew the eye, though things became a bit more complicated when half a dozen chatty voices started to echo out from just around the corner.
They sauntered out; clearly another group of toughs, and from their plodding path toward the front, it looked like there was a shift change coming in just a couple seconds. Mark automatically wondered if the whole facility was swapping hands. His watch said o'five-fifty.
"I think we've got a ten minute split, partner. Looks like shift change is six? You wanna get in there, or try to head for the long way around back and look for another possible entrance?"
Mark had only paused a moment before a grim expression crossed over his fully covered face.
"Or, you know... Ten ducks in a row." he said, throwing a hand gesture toward the gate guards and the slowly approaching relief crew. "Great way to get the party started."
