Sool777
12-09-2010, 10:46 PM
Feel free to comment and give me any advice. This is a 20 minuet paragraph or two that I've just made. It's unedited and I don't feel very good about it, so please, I encourage and advice you could give.
Eagle Corporations
November 16, 2011-
Michael, that's what his name used to be, the single word that rang out inside his head at this very moment, " Michael..." he breathed out, his breath misting in the cold night air. Gordon McAfee looked down the scope of his SR25 semi automatic rifle, a monster of the original M16 and developed for the US Navy SEALs. Gordon, a large black, or african-american man as they liked to call it nowadays, closed his eyes to take a moment to think. His breath was deep and controlled, steady and mechanical, for the longest moment he just layed there, in prone position, just thinking. Then, just as he was drifting into a state between consciousness and and sleep, a radio, his radio crackled to life. " Wolf to Overwatch, do you copy?" Gordon snapped his eyes open, his heart rate rose and his breathing became faster and less controlled, " Overwatch here, target has not moved, skies clear, a 17 count of guards on standard patrol routes, over," Gordon looked back down a 25x scope to check the data he gave, the image shook for a few seconds until he steadied his hands and returned to his previous state of breathing, his previous state of military calmness taken on by so many snipers. And a sniper was exactly what Gordon McAfee was, specifically the sniper of the 6 man mercenary team known as Eagle Corporations, their target a 46 year old male man standing at 6'2", a hostage. Eagle Corporations was known as the best, boasting to be as good, or better than the special operations teams of even the most well payed military. That's why clients were willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for their services, specifically hostage rescue. Gordon's radio crackled to life again as another member of the team radioed in, " 'Ey boss, wotcha wanna do about this guy? We already got our $300,000 up front payment already and if this guy dies we still get another $400,000 for the trouble, some right out rich bastards these guys are." Gordon smiled, *that's Hunker for you,* he thought, * always thinking of the money, but then again, who isn't?* Wolf came back onto the radio," Hunker, how many times to I have to tell you we're running a military operation here. Radio chatter to the minimum.... But you have valid points, Overwatch, you got the video rollin'?Over." Gordon's smile wiped off his face as he checked on the video equipment he had set up, it was, of course, in complete functionality, but the one thing he had learned in his complicated and long military career was that the saying 'Better safe than sorry' is always applicable. Seeing everything was in full functionality Gordon moved leaned back over to his rifle, looking down the scope once more, keeping his cross hairs on one of the guards heads, the one armed with a soviet made Dragunov sniper rifle, just in case. " Roger that boss, the vid's up and running, sounds off and we have multiple camera's for different points of view. Over." There was a long silence, before Wolf, the boss, replied, he seemed to be thinking about something, *I wonder what...* Gordon thought to himself just as Wolf radioed back in, " Roger that Overwatch, take the kill shot, i repeat I'm giving you a green on that kill shot. Rendezvous back at extraction point 'A'. All teams extract on gunshot. Over and out."
Gordon McAfee smiled and looked down the scope, the thumbs up for 'killshot' was always good, well not always, but almost always. Taking a few deep breaths before Gordon shouldering his rifle and looking down the scope once more Gordon closed his eyes to take a pause, " Michael...." he breathed out again, his breath once again misting in the cold night air. Gordon's eyes snapped open and he flicked the safety off while scoping in, making only minor adjustments to put the cross hairs back on target, * That sniper rifle won't be much use to you now will it?* he thought to himself as he took the shot, a shot which sent a 7.62mm NATO bullet straight through the 46 year old man's most delicate organ, the brain. The Eagle Corp. had done just one more job making them just that much richer at the expense of a life. * But what's a life compared to the billions of others?* Gordon thought to himself scrambling to pick up all his equipment, leaving no evidence behind.
Eagle Corporations
November 16, 2011-
Michael, that's what his name used to be, the single word that rang out inside his head at this very moment, " Michael..." he breathed out, his breath misting in the cold night air. Gordon McAfee looked down the scope of his SR25 semi automatic rifle, a monster of the original M16 and developed for the US Navy SEALs. Gordon, a large black, or african-american man as they liked to call it nowadays, closed his eyes to take a moment to think. His breath was deep and controlled, steady and mechanical, for the longest moment he just layed there, in prone position, just thinking. Then, just as he was drifting into a state between consciousness and and sleep, a radio, his radio crackled to life. " Wolf to Overwatch, do you copy?" Gordon snapped his eyes open, his heart rate rose and his breathing became faster and less controlled, " Overwatch here, target has not moved, skies clear, a 17 count of guards on standard patrol routes, over," Gordon looked back down a 25x scope to check the data he gave, the image shook for a few seconds until he steadied his hands and returned to his previous state of breathing, his previous state of military calmness taken on by so many snipers. And a sniper was exactly what Gordon McAfee was, specifically the sniper of the 6 man mercenary team known as Eagle Corporations, their target a 46 year old male man standing at 6'2", a hostage. Eagle Corporations was known as the best, boasting to be as good, or better than the special operations teams of even the most well payed military. That's why clients were willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for their services, specifically hostage rescue. Gordon's radio crackled to life again as another member of the team radioed in, " 'Ey boss, wotcha wanna do about this guy? We already got our $300,000 up front payment already and if this guy dies we still get another $400,000 for the trouble, some right out rich bastards these guys are." Gordon smiled, *that's Hunker for you,* he thought, * always thinking of the money, but then again, who isn't?* Wolf came back onto the radio," Hunker, how many times to I have to tell you we're running a military operation here. Radio chatter to the minimum.... But you have valid points, Overwatch, you got the video rollin'?Over." Gordon's smile wiped off his face as he checked on the video equipment he had set up, it was, of course, in complete functionality, but the one thing he had learned in his complicated and long military career was that the saying 'Better safe than sorry' is always applicable. Seeing everything was in full functionality Gordon moved leaned back over to his rifle, looking down the scope once more, keeping his cross hairs on one of the guards heads, the one armed with a soviet made Dragunov sniper rifle, just in case. " Roger that boss, the vid's up and running, sounds off and we have multiple camera's for different points of view. Over." There was a long silence, before Wolf, the boss, replied, he seemed to be thinking about something, *I wonder what...* Gordon thought to himself just as Wolf radioed back in, " Roger that Overwatch, take the kill shot, i repeat I'm giving you a green on that kill shot. Rendezvous back at extraction point 'A'. All teams extract on gunshot. Over and out."
Gordon McAfee smiled and looked down the scope, the thumbs up for 'killshot' was always good, well not always, but almost always. Taking a few deep breaths before Gordon shouldering his rifle and looking down the scope once more Gordon closed his eyes to take a pause, " Michael...." he breathed out again, his breath once again misting in the cold night air. Gordon's eyes snapped open and he flicked the safety off while scoping in, making only minor adjustments to put the cross hairs back on target, * That sniper rifle won't be much use to you now will it?* he thought to himself as he took the shot, a shot which sent a 7.62mm NATO bullet straight through the 46 year old man's most delicate organ, the brain. The Eagle Corp. had done just one more job making them just that much richer at the expense of a life. * But what's a life compared to the billions of others?* Gordon thought to himself scrambling to pick up all his equipment, leaving no evidence behind.