Post by Rennia Trayvold on Sept 8, 2011 1:47:19 GMT -5
Humanity had come a long way since the dawn of it's age. In the beginning they made fire. Then came tools, and...eventually weapons. Humans adapted to meet their needs. Man could not walk on water, so he invented boats. They could not fly, so the airplane was created. Modern advances lead to warships made out of steel hulls, some of the larger ones being powered by nuclear reactors. Planes became heavier, equally covered in steel and their engines updated. Now humanity had entered the digital age. Computers were constantly becoming more and more powerful, and at the same time, smaller and smaller. At ones fingertips they could easily pull up a host of information, purchase any number of items, and communicate with someone across the world.
However, despite all these advances, their world remained still largely a mystery to them. Humans have explored the surface of their planet, and even beneath it, but there was still so much of it that they had yet to truly explore and understand. The deep abysses of the ocean were one of them. The South Arctic was another. A few brave men and women had at times gone out to explore this desolate frozen desert, and it was fairly well mapped via Satellites, but it was still a great unknown to man. For all their technology, the arctic was still an elusive place that sat almost completely uninhabited by man.
That was why to some people, it was the perfect place to hide. Here, amongst the snow and ice, one could live in relative secrecy. Satellite imagery, if one could even obtain access to one of the good ones, only showed so much. It only gave a bird's eye view of the land, so all one had to do was pick an ideal location to set up their residence, and then they could all but disappear. Few people would be brave enough to chart a trip through the ice laden water of the coasts, and even fewer would have the courage to trek through the many miles of froze wasteland and sub zero temperatures. Assuming you survived long enough to establish a residence, it was your ticket to escape, to freedom. At least, that was the case for most.
Not everyone was so fortunate.......
____________________________________________________________
A light storm kicked up the snow, causing it to dance nimbly in the air as it swirled about. Even by normal standards the storm wasn't much. One could still see a fair distance, though the wind made hearing anything beyond a few feet a challenge. It was usual weather for this desolate place, even if the morning had started out clear and sunny.
Giles Edgar had hoped that it would stay clear today. It would have been a fine day to go out to check his traps if it had. He was starting to run low on meat, which was never a good thing. He had fish, but he knew that a fish diet would not sustain him. He needed a well balanced diet, especially out here in the freezing wastelands of the Antarctic. All he had left besides that were dried fruits and vegetables he had managed to trade from the pelts of the animals he had killed.
When he moved out here he was surprised to find that animals actually existed out here. Of course afterwards it seemed a silly thought, but one never really expected...well, anything, to want to live out in the middle of this frozen hell hole. Yet, to his surprise there were a few creatures that lived out here. Some of them were even less friendly than others.
Unfortunately with this weather checking those traps would be difficult. They were far away and one could easily get lost out here. Landmarks were few and far between and getting lost could mean death. Aside from that, checking the traps with limited visibility and hearing could invite a surprise attack from some unhappy creature that may sympathize with whatever he caught.
Still despite the weather there were things that needed attending to. Today was no exception. An animal had come in earlier and knocked out one of the security cameras he had placed. He hadn't gotten a picture of it unfortunately, to know exactly what was out there, but he knew it wasn't just the wind. These cameras survived the brutal storms that were commonplace in this harsh tundra, so it was unlikely a little breeze would topple them.
The man still kept his guard up. Even though he was confident that no one knew he was out here, he still took went to the expense of buying heavy duty surveillance equipment to keep an eye on his borders. Heavy duty more referring to their resilience to the weather than any extraordinary espionage abilities. He could have easily placed minefields or more traps, but those would run the risk of obliterating the creatures he hunted, or scaring them off. That would be counterproductive to his attempts at survival, so surveillance would have to do.
He walked over to the downed camera, shaking his head in disappointment that, yet again, he found himself righting a downed camera that some animal had taken an interest in, in some fashion or another. Often times they were viewed as good scratching posts, even if Giles disagreed. The man sighed, leaning down to pick up the piece of equipment. He began to look it over for any obvious signs of damage, entirely unaware that he was being watched from afar, and not by the local wildlife......
____________________________________________________________
Out within the storm rolling across the frozen wastelands of the South Arctic, there were no signs of what was lying in wait just upon the surface of the snow. No footprints or outline gave away the death that was poised to strike at just the right moment. All anyone would have seen was blowing snow and frozen terrain.
The image of Giles Edgar swam in the center of view, superimposed upon it was were the cross-hairs of a rather expensive Leupold scope. Beneath that were the notches to indicate climbing elevation due to distance. The image was projected into the pupil sat center of a glowing, deep red iris. The wind adjustment was easy thanks to the nifty little device attached to the side of the scope. Meaning all one had to do was adjust for distance.
Rennia had stuffed her usual black cloak into her bag and donned a thick white parka. Despite not minding the cold, she certainly had no plans going out in it naked either. Her boot similarly were traded for thick insulated white boots, allowing her to blend in with her environment. Her rifle was also camouflaged. A white mesh covered the barrel and stock. The suppressor she had placed on the end also had a white sleeve to it, helping it to disappear within the bright surroundings. Doubled with her natural ability to hide herself in her environment, she was all but invisible there in the snow.
The rifle was a M82/107 manufactured by Barrett. Like most of Barrett's firearms the large rifle was chambered for the mighty fifty caliber browning machine gun round. Many people considered the .50 cal to be too large, unwieldly and overpowered for the line of work, but Rennia liked not having to change out weapons to deal with vehicular targets. It also traveled through walls and barriers quite nicely, allowing her to strike at targets behind them. Finally, Rennia found herself liking the overall design and look of the rifle. It looked appealing to her.
She gripped the rifle with just her trigger hand, the other end being supported by a mounted bi-pod. The legs were telescoping, and she had them collapsed to keep the rifle's profile to a minimum. She didn't want it sticking up any higher than it had to. The suppressor mounted to the end already made it a larger target, though it also weighed down the front, eliminating a small portion of the recoil. Truth be told the suppressor was larger than most people expected of it. It also didn't work anywhere near as well as Hollywood would have people believe. There simply was no way that the large cylinder would reduce a seven hundred plus grain round that would otherwise travel half a mile in a single second, to the whisper quiet noise you hear in the movies. Truth was it only reduced the sound enough to where you wouldn't go deaf firing the damn thing. But every little bit helped. Mixed with the howling winds, the suppressor would do it's job of not allowing the rifle's report to be projected across the barren landscape. Otherwise the sound would likely be cast for miles in all directions.
Her finger traced over the trigger guard lightly, keeping itself outside and away from the trigger until she was ready. Her eye locked onto the target as he went about fixing the camera she had disabled. She had managed to slip between the fields of vision between that camera and the one next to it, and disable the equipment without being detected. She hoped it would draw Giles out of hiding to fix it. She had waited for hours and hours, even into the night and morning with no sign of the man. Then later, almost a full day since she had broken the camera, her efforts finally paid off. Giles made his way out to the disabled Surveillance equipment and began his repair process. Now it was time for her to do her part.
After Giles lowered the equipment back down to begin mounting it once more, Rennia took her hand off of the trigger guard and pistol grip. She slowly slid it forward to the action, pulling it back slowly till it stopped. She then slid it forward slowly, being as quiet as possible as she forced the bolt to strip a round from the magazine and feed it into the chamber. When the round clicked home she slowly shifted her hand back to the pistol grip, swallowing silently before taking a deep breath. She flicked the safety before finally sliding her finger in between the trigger and the guard, taking care not to go anywhere near the actual trigger yet. She then slowed her breathing as she kept a bead on her target, breathing in and out as she adjusted the end of the rifle up to cover the distance between them.
She took in her final breath, letting it out slowly until it was half out, then she held her breath. Her fingertip then traveled to the trigger at almost a snail's pace, ever so lightly pressing upon the steel. It then slowly pulled upon the trigger until at length it reached the firing point. The hammer snapped forward, striking the primer and igniting it. The powder lit, turning into an expanding cloud of fiery gas as it shoved the 700 grain bullet from it's position, wedged into the end of the casing. The heavy round was thrust down the barrel at ballistic speeds until it reached the suppressor which took some of the speed off. Meanwhile the rifle lurched back, some of the recoil being eaten by the barrel as it shifted back. The action then ate more as it blew back, ejecting the casing off to the side. More recoil was then taken by the butt-plate before the remainder pushed into Rennia's shoulder.
The bullet spun through the air, splitting it as the supersonic round closed the gap between Rennia's position and Giles. The man never even heard the rifle's report before the round's tip pressed up against his forehead. Lead expanded as it struck hard bone, and it progressed further inward. In the battle of flesh and bone versus cold metal, the metal of course took the victory. What was left of the man collapsed onto the ground as the nerve endings controlling the muscles went dead. Blood splattered across the snow, and began to pull as Gile's body began to cool. Meanwhile the hiss of melting snow on hot brass filled Rennia's ears.
The demoness pulled her eye away from the scope and looked around. She remained in position, eying her surroundings to make sure she was not discovered before she finally reached forward, collapsing the bi-pod so she could sling the rifle over her shoulder. Once she had done that, Rennia grabbed the casing up and stuffed it into an external pocket before she began to make her way over to where Gile's body lied. She kept a pair of blades within the sleeves of her parka, in case she needed to defend herself all of a sudden.
Rennia knew Gile's was dead before he had ever hit the ground, but it was standard practice to confirm a kill, and while she could have done that from the scope of her rifle in her firing position, there was something Gile's had that she needed, which was part of the reason she had aimed for his head instead of center of mass. Either would have been just as instantly fatal, but one would have possibly destroyed what she sought after.
She approached his body and stopped. She allowed herself a reprieve, a few moments of simply gazing at his body distantly as it sat there, cooling off rapidly in the sub zero temperature of this frozen desert. Her parka now whipped around in the breeze, revealing the black underneath that she still wore, and, for a moment, a bit of red from one of the tips of her feathered wings. It almost looked like one of those western movies with a man in a trench coat. However, despite zoning out somewhat, Rennia's ears kept on the alert, listening for any would be, attacker. The last thing she needed was to be killed AFTER killing her target....
However, despite all these advances, their world remained still largely a mystery to them. Humans have explored the surface of their planet, and even beneath it, but there was still so much of it that they had yet to truly explore and understand. The deep abysses of the ocean were one of them. The South Arctic was another. A few brave men and women had at times gone out to explore this desolate frozen desert, and it was fairly well mapped via Satellites, but it was still a great unknown to man. For all their technology, the arctic was still an elusive place that sat almost completely uninhabited by man.
That was why to some people, it was the perfect place to hide. Here, amongst the snow and ice, one could live in relative secrecy. Satellite imagery, if one could even obtain access to one of the good ones, only showed so much. It only gave a bird's eye view of the land, so all one had to do was pick an ideal location to set up their residence, and then they could all but disappear. Few people would be brave enough to chart a trip through the ice laden water of the coasts, and even fewer would have the courage to trek through the many miles of froze wasteland and sub zero temperatures. Assuming you survived long enough to establish a residence, it was your ticket to escape, to freedom. At least, that was the case for most.
Not everyone was so fortunate.......
____________________________________________________________
A light storm kicked up the snow, causing it to dance nimbly in the air as it swirled about. Even by normal standards the storm wasn't much. One could still see a fair distance, though the wind made hearing anything beyond a few feet a challenge. It was usual weather for this desolate place, even if the morning had started out clear and sunny.
Giles Edgar had hoped that it would stay clear today. It would have been a fine day to go out to check his traps if it had. He was starting to run low on meat, which was never a good thing. He had fish, but he knew that a fish diet would not sustain him. He needed a well balanced diet, especially out here in the freezing wastelands of the Antarctic. All he had left besides that were dried fruits and vegetables he had managed to trade from the pelts of the animals he had killed.
When he moved out here he was surprised to find that animals actually existed out here. Of course afterwards it seemed a silly thought, but one never really expected...well, anything, to want to live out in the middle of this frozen hell hole. Yet, to his surprise there were a few creatures that lived out here. Some of them were even less friendly than others.
Unfortunately with this weather checking those traps would be difficult. They were far away and one could easily get lost out here. Landmarks were few and far between and getting lost could mean death. Aside from that, checking the traps with limited visibility and hearing could invite a surprise attack from some unhappy creature that may sympathize with whatever he caught.
Still despite the weather there were things that needed attending to. Today was no exception. An animal had come in earlier and knocked out one of the security cameras he had placed. He hadn't gotten a picture of it unfortunately, to know exactly what was out there, but he knew it wasn't just the wind. These cameras survived the brutal storms that were commonplace in this harsh tundra, so it was unlikely a little breeze would topple them.
The man still kept his guard up. Even though he was confident that no one knew he was out here, he still took went to the expense of buying heavy duty surveillance equipment to keep an eye on his borders. Heavy duty more referring to their resilience to the weather than any extraordinary espionage abilities. He could have easily placed minefields or more traps, but those would run the risk of obliterating the creatures he hunted, or scaring them off. That would be counterproductive to his attempts at survival, so surveillance would have to do.
He walked over to the downed camera, shaking his head in disappointment that, yet again, he found himself righting a downed camera that some animal had taken an interest in, in some fashion or another. Often times they were viewed as good scratching posts, even if Giles disagreed. The man sighed, leaning down to pick up the piece of equipment. He began to look it over for any obvious signs of damage, entirely unaware that he was being watched from afar, and not by the local wildlife......
____________________________________________________________
Out within the storm rolling across the frozen wastelands of the South Arctic, there were no signs of what was lying in wait just upon the surface of the snow. No footprints or outline gave away the death that was poised to strike at just the right moment. All anyone would have seen was blowing snow and frozen terrain.
The image of Giles Edgar swam in the center of view, superimposed upon it was were the cross-hairs of a rather expensive Leupold scope. Beneath that were the notches to indicate climbing elevation due to distance. The image was projected into the pupil sat center of a glowing, deep red iris. The wind adjustment was easy thanks to the nifty little device attached to the side of the scope. Meaning all one had to do was adjust for distance.
Rennia had stuffed her usual black cloak into her bag and donned a thick white parka. Despite not minding the cold, she certainly had no plans going out in it naked either. Her boot similarly were traded for thick insulated white boots, allowing her to blend in with her environment. Her rifle was also camouflaged. A white mesh covered the barrel and stock. The suppressor she had placed on the end also had a white sleeve to it, helping it to disappear within the bright surroundings. Doubled with her natural ability to hide herself in her environment, she was all but invisible there in the snow.
The rifle was a M82/107 manufactured by Barrett. Like most of Barrett's firearms the large rifle was chambered for the mighty fifty caliber browning machine gun round. Many people considered the .50 cal to be too large, unwieldly and overpowered for the line of work, but Rennia liked not having to change out weapons to deal with vehicular targets. It also traveled through walls and barriers quite nicely, allowing her to strike at targets behind them. Finally, Rennia found herself liking the overall design and look of the rifle. It looked appealing to her.
She gripped the rifle with just her trigger hand, the other end being supported by a mounted bi-pod. The legs were telescoping, and she had them collapsed to keep the rifle's profile to a minimum. She didn't want it sticking up any higher than it had to. The suppressor mounted to the end already made it a larger target, though it also weighed down the front, eliminating a small portion of the recoil. Truth be told the suppressor was larger than most people expected of it. It also didn't work anywhere near as well as Hollywood would have people believe. There simply was no way that the large cylinder would reduce a seven hundred plus grain round that would otherwise travel half a mile in a single second, to the whisper quiet noise you hear in the movies. Truth was it only reduced the sound enough to where you wouldn't go deaf firing the damn thing. But every little bit helped. Mixed with the howling winds, the suppressor would do it's job of not allowing the rifle's report to be projected across the barren landscape. Otherwise the sound would likely be cast for miles in all directions.
Her finger traced over the trigger guard lightly, keeping itself outside and away from the trigger until she was ready. Her eye locked onto the target as he went about fixing the camera she had disabled. She had managed to slip between the fields of vision between that camera and the one next to it, and disable the equipment without being detected. She hoped it would draw Giles out of hiding to fix it. She had waited for hours and hours, even into the night and morning with no sign of the man. Then later, almost a full day since she had broken the camera, her efforts finally paid off. Giles made his way out to the disabled Surveillance equipment and began his repair process. Now it was time for her to do her part.
After Giles lowered the equipment back down to begin mounting it once more, Rennia took her hand off of the trigger guard and pistol grip. She slowly slid it forward to the action, pulling it back slowly till it stopped. She then slid it forward slowly, being as quiet as possible as she forced the bolt to strip a round from the magazine and feed it into the chamber. When the round clicked home she slowly shifted her hand back to the pistol grip, swallowing silently before taking a deep breath. She flicked the safety before finally sliding her finger in between the trigger and the guard, taking care not to go anywhere near the actual trigger yet. She then slowed her breathing as she kept a bead on her target, breathing in and out as she adjusted the end of the rifle up to cover the distance between them.
She took in her final breath, letting it out slowly until it was half out, then she held her breath. Her fingertip then traveled to the trigger at almost a snail's pace, ever so lightly pressing upon the steel. It then slowly pulled upon the trigger until at length it reached the firing point. The hammer snapped forward, striking the primer and igniting it. The powder lit, turning into an expanding cloud of fiery gas as it shoved the 700 grain bullet from it's position, wedged into the end of the casing. The heavy round was thrust down the barrel at ballistic speeds until it reached the suppressor which took some of the speed off. Meanwhile the rifle lurched back, some of the recoil being eaten by the barrel as it shifted back. The action then ate more as it blew back, ejecting the casing off to the side. More recoil was then taken by the butt-plate before the remainder pushed into Rennia's shoulder.
The bullet spun through the air, splitting it as the supersonic round closed the gap between Rennia's position and Giles. The man never even heard the rifle's report before the round's tip pressed up against his forehead. Lead expanded as it struck hard bone, and it progressed further inward. In the battle of flesh and bone versus cold metal, the metal of course took the victory. What was left of the man collapsed onto the ground as the nerve endings controlling the muscles went dead. Blood splattered across the snow, and began to pull as Gile's body began to cool. Meanwhile the hiss of melting snow on hot brass filled Rennia's ears.
The demoness pulled her eye away from the scope and looked around. She remained in position, eying her surroundings to make sure she was not discovered before she finally reached forward, collapsing the bi-pod so she could sling the rifle over her shoulder. Once she had done that, Rennia grabbed the casing up and stuffed it into an external pocket before she began to make her way over to where Gile's body lied. She kept a pair of blades within the sleeves of her parka, in case she needed to defend herself all of a sudden.
Rennia knew Gile's was dead before he had ever hit the ground, but it was standard practice to confirm a kill, and while she could have done that from the scope of her rifle in her firing position, there was something Gile's had that she needed, which was part of the reason she had aimed for his head instead of center of mass. Either would have been just as instantly fatal, but one would have possibly destroyed what she sought after.
She approached his body and stopped. She allowed herself a reprieve, a few moments of simply gazing at his body distantly as it sat there, cooling off rapidly in the sub zero temperature of this frozen desert. Her parka now whipped around in the breeze, revealing the black underneath that she still wore, and, for a moment, a bit of red from one of the tips of her feathered wings. It almost looked like one of those western movies with a man in a trench coat. However, despite zoning out somewhat, Rennia's ears kept on the alert, listening for any would be, attacker. The last thing she needed was to be killed AFTER killing her target....
