The Ease of High Rank
A shell was slipped into the chamber. The faceless soldier pressed the butt of his rifle against his shoulder. He took a knee as he watched and listened. His eyes went to and fro. His breathing slowed.
He was on the ground floor inside an empty cold factory. Cracked windows lined the walls. Light shined down through the windows. He looked up to the walkways on the second level. His eyes followed the railed steel walkway that ran all along the factory. He turned to look back, wary of an enemy sneaking up for a quick kill with the knife. He only saw a bare cement wall with a door on it's center.
He began to move forward. A few steps, quickly he swung his R13 to his right, staring hard down an empty corridor, then quickly to his left to another empty corridor.
Suddenly, a target ran past the right corridor, Mark Fenrus turned quickly to his right by instinctive reflexes. In that single motion, his one eye looked down the sights of his rifle and as the target lined up he popped off a single round. A split-second later, came a distinct sound to confirm he clipped his target.
At the corner of his eye, he heard a target appear down the left corridor. He heard a shot fired! Acting fast, he rolled to the edge of the wall. The shell missed him by inches. The same second he turned to look down the corridor, poised to fire. He worked fast to line up his shot, for the target was receding back into the chambers down the corridor. He pressed hard on the trigger, he felt the kickback of the rifle against his shoulder. He saw as his shell ripped through the target's head and disappeared in the shadows.
His heart was beating fast. His trigger finger was twitching a little. He was indeed rattled as he examined the bullet hole on his left sleeve. If the shell was guided a little to the left or right, Mark wouldn't be so lucky.
He could breathe easy now. "Too close," he said under his breath.
He stood up, certain the danger had passed him. He walked deeper into the factory, slow and cautious. Through his glass visor, he came into an wide opening. It might have been a storage area for it was just empty with the steel walkways above lining its two sides of the factory. There were a few crates oddly placed in the storage space.
Mark Fenrus took a few steps into the storage area. He quickly glanced at his two flanks. He took a half-step as he heard the shocking sound of the locking of a rifle behind him. He hurried to dashed to the left edge of the wall. He shuttered, the round came inches to clipping him in the neck.
As he was about to return fire, a target sprung up from behind a crate and unloaded a clip at Mark. Rounds of enemy fire tore up the cement wall behind him, but he was quick to dash to the right. He rolled to a stop in the middle of the hallway he entered from. The target was ready and waiting, waiting for a clear shot. But Mark already had his sights lined up and fired. The head was of the enemy was blasted clean off.
But Mark was far from being done, bullets shot up the floor trying to reach him. But he was quick to turn and return fire before a bullet got too close, only his aim was sharper. The shell blew off another enemy's head clean off.
An empty shell dropped to the cold cement floor and Mark stood up. He continued to walk into the storage area. He walked casually, but kept an eye open for anymore targets. He didn't want to be caught off guard again.
At the corner of his eye, three targets sprung up on the high steel walkway, and already he had his rifle fixed on them. He shot off three well placed rounds, all hitting their mark and neutralizing the targets. More sprung up on the walkway! Even more appeared on the other walkway! Mark leaped and opened fire on both sides.
As more appeared behind the crates and further down the storage area and the way he came. He dived into a roll and opened fire. With the targets down, he dashed behind a crate as he was fired at from behind. He quickly reloaded, and slipped in a new clip and locked it. He looked over the crate and took aim, firing off single shells.
When there was one last one left, Mark walked casually out of cover. The target was out of ammo. So the faceless soldier pressed his rifle against his shoulder with no rush. He lined up the target and pulled the trigger.
That moment, a bell rang. "Training sequences is completed," an electronic automated voice announced. "Outstanding Major Mark Fenrus."