He grasped the cold hard grip of the rifle close to his chest, hugging the automatic's iron stock tight against his shoulder.
Breathe...breathe
There was his mark, two, three, no four troopers clad in red fatigues laced with dark gray body armor.
He relaxed his finger on the trigger and unhooked a grenade from his belt pouch. About thirty meters above in the cover of a shadowy air duct, he had about five seconds till they walked past his vantage spot unaware of a cross hair on their six.
He threw the bomb lightly, letting gravity drop the device neatly between the first two troopers.
Ping, ping
Solder 2 looked down...
Shrapnel propelled by the blinding light of the explosion tore his upper body messily off from the rest of his torso, scattering his left arm in one direction and the remains of his head in another.
Soldier 1's leg tore off and the rest of his body was flung off ahead of assumed course.
Soldier 3 was blasted off slightly back, his corpse laid neatly on his back in final slumber.
And four...was nowhere to be seen.
Moving his gun towards the darkness of where his last target should have been, the Corporal began firing in sprays, recoil driving his shoulder ajar after every round of burst fire...
Hitting nothing
Fight or flight, this was the way of things. Mark Four could have done the latter, but if he was laying in wait...then what next?
I'm a sitting duck-thought the Corporal-the Corporal the spook could call for back up too and I'd be finished.
Sweat sliding of his cheek, he watched the transparent drop fall down to the floor. He took of his backpack and threw it down to the floor, listening to the distinct thud.
No movement
He then took a clip from his pouch and slammed it as hard he could down the drop near the backpack.
Laced with extra gun powder, the cartridge exploded with the burn of the fuse, expelling bullets left and right in makeshift cover.
No movement...yet
The Corporal then proceeded to work his rope downward towards the exit, creeping silently down towards the gray floor.
Ping, ping
The blast flung the Corporal upwards in sway, his body swaying in a the air in a dance of suspended death as shrapnel much more effective than his last trick cut through the cover of dark.
Soldier 4 crept forward to inspect the damage of his grenade. Solemnly acknowledging the remains of his brethren, now re ripped by the second explosion, he found a tattered backpack cold on the floor. He kicked the pack to reveal the corpse underneath.
Hand on the trigger, suspended in the air with the rope still swinging him back and forth, the Corporal aimed his iron sight in line with his last Mark, 15 meters away below him, and squeezed, feeling the recoil of the cold hard stock jerk against his shoulder.
The red clad Trooper's helmet jerked downwards as if hit by a sledgehammer, ejecting a spray of wet gore as his goggle's wept blood. His body crumpled into a limp slump, resting upon the pack.
Corporal Lin relaxed his arms and with one hand touched his burnt face, fresh from the heat...even at the distance from his rope trick, the blast was still tremendous. He took a knife and cut down his rope, dropping down the the floor, legs sprung underneath in a deep thud. He inspected the carnage around him, moving the last trooper away to pick up his pack.
He coughed, "I need a cigarette"
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