The desert sun shone down hot as the dry wind blew the long strings of sands from the cliff tops. Eagles circled overhead as silence hung like a blanket over the land.
A crack like lightening split the silence and a whizzing tore through the air. A wooden target's knee exploded into splinters and the prone miqo'te smiled as a voice buzzed through the linkpearl in his ear.
"Excellent shot, sir. Right in the knee."Â
The miqo'te pulled his right eye away from the scope of his massive rifle and blinked the blue optic. His left eye opened and it shone a blood red as he reached for another tall bullet encased in brass. His nimble fingers spun the round through them as he used his thumb to open the chamber cover and then slipped the bullet back in. The sniper then pulled the firing pin back with a click and returned his face to the stock of his rifle.
The miqo'te was prone on the edge of the cliff. His target was down below him at a range of half a mile. Two instruments buzzed beside him, spinning as they calculated wind speed and magnetic fields. former Flame Lieutenant A'trus "Loft" M. had always excelled at hunting prey. Even back when he was part of his tribe, he had been one of the best hunters. Now, after ten years in the service of Ul'dah, at age thirty, he was considered one of the best trackers and rifleman to have ever served. An officer who never questioned orders and whose unit always returned with their targets, even if it took longer than expected.
Save for one mission. His unit's last. Used as pawns an manipulated by politics to hunt innocent, fellow Flames, the officer had resigned at the end of his last operation. His unit disbanded and he found himself suddenly making a heck of a living in the private sector of bounty hunting. His gang, many of which where from his old unit, had collected several fat bounties and life was significantly better than during their time in the service. Twice the pay, less hours, and no one objected to A'trus -habits-.
A'trus slowed his breathing as he aimed at the target below. He had earned the nickname "Loft" from his habit of always having the high ground. A character trait some claimed made him to predictable. But with his rifle, it didn't matter.
The brown haired seeker fired. Â His bullet spun thanks to the double rifling cut into the barrel's core. The large pay load then pierced the air and raced across the distance. Several seconds later the wooden target's other knee exploded and the former officer grinned again, flashing white teeth as he opened his mismatched eyes and rose to his feet.
Several pairs of hands were clapping and he turned and blushed at three of his soldiers.
"Don't you all have work to be doing?" A'trus said as he brushed the sand from his shirt and paints before hefting the rifle up into his arms.
"Probably." replied former sergeant Rungee, a dark skinned hyur with a talent for traps. The hyur then walked over and sat by the edge of the cliff beside his former superior officer.
"You ever miss the service?" Rungee asked as he eyed the targets before. A'trus yawned.
"You mean miss getting used for some politician's gain while I had to go to widows and mothers and explained why their loved ones were dead for pointless politics? Oh yeah, miss it so much."
"Look at you, sir. Out of the service less than a cycle and already you're a cynic."Â Rungee chuckled as he looked over at the miqo'te.
"Stop calling me Sir, Rungee." A'trus grunted at his former sergeant. The dark skinned hyur had left the same day A'trus had and been the first to join his -new- Black Chains group.
"Probably not going to happen soon, sir, habits and all." Rungee beamed a white smile before he pulled out a piece of paper and held it to the sniper cat. "Job offer. May not be your favorite though."
A'trus reached over as he lay on his belly and snatched the parchment up. His eyes began reading over it as Rungee went on.
"Job's from slavers. But we aren't snatching a slave. Snatching someone that pissed off the organization while working for them at one point. I know how you feel about slaver coin but I saw that price tag and had to at least consider it. They want to meet you obviously prior."
A'trus licked his lips as he read the document before he began to quietly chew on his lower one. After a moment, he wiggled his nose and sniffed.
"Well, the person being hunted down doesn't sound like a real wonderful human being. And, as you said, slaver coin or not, that price tag is nothing to dismiss. Get with your contact and set up a meeting. Worst case, I get a free meal out of this meeting."
"Aye, sir." Rungee replied with a cheeky grin.
"Stop calling me 'sir!'"
A crack like lightening split the silence and a whizzing tore through the air. A wooden target's knee exploded into splinters and the prone miqo'te smiled as a voice buzzed through the linkpearl in his ear.
"Excellent shot, sir. Right in the knee."Â
The miqo'te pulled his right eye away from the scope of his massive rifle and blinked the blue optic. His left eye opened and it shone a blood red as he reached for another tall bullet encased in brass. His nimble fingers spun the round through them as he used his thumb to open the chamber cover and then slipped the bullet back in. The sniper then pulled the firing pin back with a click and returned his face to the stock of his rifle.
The miqo'te was prone on the edge of the cliff. His target was down below him at a range of half a mile. Two instruments buzzed beside him, spinning as they calculated wind speed and magnetic fields. former Flame Lieutenant A'trus "Loft" M. had always excelled at hunting prey. Even back when he was part of his tribe, he had been one of the best hunters. Now, after ten years in the service of Ul'dah, at age thirty, he was considered one of the best trackers and rifleman to have ever served. An officer who never questioned orders and whose unit always returned with their targets, even if it took longer than expected.
Save for one mission. His unit's last. Used as pawns an manipulated by politics to hunt innocent, fellow Flames, the officer had resigned at the end of his last operation. His unit disbanded and he found himself suddenly making a heck of a living in the private sector of bounty hunting. His gang, many of which where from his old unit, had collected several fat bounties and life was significantly better than during their time in the service. Twice the pay, less hours, and no one objected to A'trus -habits-.
A'trus slowed his breathing as he aimed at the target below. He had earned the nickname "Loft" from his habit of always having the high ground. A character trait some claimed made him to predictable. But with his rifle, it didn't matter.
The brown haired seeker fired. Â His bullet spun thanks to the double rifling cut into the barrel's core. The large pay load then pierced the air and raced across the distance. Several seconds later the wooden target's other knee exploded and the former officer grinned again, flashing white teeth as he opened his mismatched eyes and rose to his feet.
Several pairs of hands were clapping and he turned and blushed at three of his soldiers.
"Don't you all have work to be doing?" A'trus said as he brushed the sand from his shirt and paints before hefting the rifle up into his arms.
"Probably." replied former sergeant Rungee, a dark skinned hyur with a talent for traps. The hyur then walked over and sat by the edge of the cliff beside his former superior officer.
"You ever miss the service?" Rungee asked as he eyed the targets before. A'trus yawned.
"You mean miss getting used for some politician's gain while I had to go to widows and mothers and explained why their loved ones were dead for pointless politics? Oh yeah, miss it so much."
"Look at you, sir. Out of the service less than a cycle and already you're a cynic."Â Rungee chuckled as he looked over at the miqo'te.
"Stop calling me Sir, Rungee." A'trus grunted at his former sergeant. The dark skinned hyur had left the same day A'trus had and been the first to join his -new- Black Chains group.
"Probably not going to happen soon, sir, habits and all." Rungee beamed a white smile before he pulled out a piece of paper and held it to the sniper cat. "Job offer. May not be your favorite though."
A'trus reached over as he lay on his belly and snatched the parchment up. His eyes began reading over it as Rungee went on.
"Job's from slavers. But we aren't snatching a slave. Snatching someone that pissed off the organization while working for them at one point. I know how you feel about slaver coin but I saw that price tag and had to at least consider it. They want to meet you obviously prior."
A'trus licked his lips as he read the document before he began to quietly chew on his lower one. After a moment, he wiggled his nose and sniffed.
"Well, the person being hunted down doesn't sound like a real wonderful human being. And, as you said, slaver coin or not, that price tag is nothing to dismiss. Get with your contact and set up a meeting. Worst case, I get a free meal out of this meeting."
"Aye, sir." Rungee replied with a cheeky grin.
"Stop calling me 'sir!'"
