UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, NEW YORK CITY, UPPER MANHATTEN, DECEMBER 12TH, 2025
(April Rinehart P.O.V)
My finger traced the cold, hardened steel trigger of the sniper rifle, the barrel moving-- tracking the blackout silhouette of a soldier who raced through the war-torn city, where dilapidated buildings, bomb-out train stations, and countless laid dead in the streets from months of battle on the American front.
The heavy air held soot and ash, gunpowder still prominent from the months of fighting it took to gain control over the city; it was stagnant, arcid, and repellent, perfect for fleeing the soldier who was-- camouflaged in it.
The American only-- visible from the outline of his geared and weighted body, were sharp, angler pieces of metal or cloth penetrated out from the main mass of his body.
Like a raging demon, the soldier scrambled through blown-out storefronts, up and over obliterated armored cars soaked in thick grey ash, where the rotting flesh and fur of those liquefying in the seats of the metal caskets lay dead and charred.
The red-dotted sight dragged behind the fleeing soldier across the grey backdrop of destroyed steel, glass and concrete; he became no more than a blur as I tried to keep pace with the unusually fast human who raged across the graveyard to keep his life.
Steadying my breathing, the slow drags of air I took burned my lungs; they begged for more than just a taste.
The prone position I took over the rooftop gave me the advantage to see the result of months of fighting inside the metropolis and my target from a birds-eye view.
Tightening my grip around the handle, I prepared to shoot once more and end his life. Steadily applying pressure to the trigger, I traced his movements until the red-dotted cross-hair fell on the human, and the air I was holding-- released in a single burst.
BANG!
.
100
Without faltering, his silhouette went crashing down, vanishing amidst the debris. The recoil of the shot sent vibrations across my entire body.
Rolling over, I crouched on a knee, grabbing the brick radio that dangled from my chest. "Confirmed kill, one contact down," I informed Dominion, a short silence filling the air until the operator spoke.
.
.
.
"Affirmative, Occisor, search kill zone and update if acquired prominent information, over and out," the radio returned to silence once more as I placed it back on my chest and grabbed my sniper.
"This is getting annoying! 'Go here, check that, recon this, inform us of that, stay and watch this, report back!' Are we a spec ops division or garbage collectors? So far, the only thing the General has told us to do is sit on our asses; this is a war, right? Where's all the fighting, our missions? Instead, we're killing human laggards in this. . ., this!?"
Victoria spat; she sat atop an air conditioning unit, motioning a hand over the barren wasteland that the city had become while holding a rifle on her lap.
"I thought we came here to kick ass, not be lap dogs looking for ghosts, this nation is just another country in our passport, so why the hassle?!"
She snarled, grabbing the bridge of her white nose, glaring over the horizon where the rest of the unoccupied human nation remained safe, guarded by tens of millions of soldiers and all the advanced equipment I know General Ivy could only dream of having to end this stalemate.
YOU ARE READING
FREEDOM HAS A VOICE
ActionEveryone always thought that the war would stay far from home, that our mighty, navy, air force, and army would keep them far away, the war was just one of the many things where watched from our phones thousands of miles away of where we heard of th...
