Ruins of a Kingdom

Second day, fourteenth hour,
I'm on my stomach now looking through my scope. Through it I see the burning ruins of Moscow. I've hunted the bandits who burned that village all the way back to their home. To think that someone would build their home in a place like this. Moscow hasn't been at rest since the end of the war. I can't remember a time when it wasn't burning. Even though it was night time i could still see clearly without a night scope. With a fire on every block it was as if it were daylight. I scan the home of the bandits looking for the face. I'll never forget the face I saw two days ago. The face that shot that child in the back while running away. When they were done burning the village I went down to see the damage. Not one soul was spared in the slaughter. I followed the bandits all the way back here. The fires of Moscow burned like the hatred I had for these so called men. My heart rate started to increase as I thought about them. I slowed it down through the meditation I was taught in training. I can't afford to fire a shot and miss in this place. I hear gunfire in the distance all the time. I haven't slept for nearly three days and all around is the gunfire from different skirmishes. The gunfire never stopped, it was as if it were as normal as the wind. I studied the ruined building that sat nine hundred meters away from my hide. I was in an old apartment complex resting my body and rifle on the bed and a table. It was dark in the room so no one could see me inside it unless the had night optics. I look at the front of the building and see five men on horseback ride up to the gate. One of the men shouts something to the man at the gate and he lowers his weapon. This must be the leader. He was big and broad and looked as if he struck fear into everyone around him. Coward. No true man would massacre an entire village of peaceful farmers. He rides into the building and I lose track of him. Damn. I look at the windows and see that he starts to walk up the stairs. He enters a room that is well lit and seems to be his bedroom. A woman is thrown in there a little later for him. She looks scared. He smacks her on the face and immediately starts to wrestle her to the bed. She cry's out to no one in particular as he tries to have his way. I dial in the distance to my scope at nine hundred and forty meters. The wind is very low, less then two miles per hour. I'm shooting at the same level with the building so I don't have to add or subtract the distance. I switch the safety off the rifle and breath deep. I center the crosshairs on the back of his head. I can't shoot until his head is in this hole in the window of the room. I can't risk shoot through the glass at this range or the bullet would deflect. I take my time with this one. His head inches back just enough so my bullet would have a perfect line to hit through. I put pressure on the trigger and the rifle bucks back into my shoulder. I was so preoccupied with the shot that I didn't even hear the sound of the rifle. It took one second for the bullet to travel that far. The bullet went through the hole and into the mans eye. It exited through the back of his skull spraying a nice painting on the wall with his brains. The woman gets up, shocked that the man, who a second ago was on top of her, head just exploded on to the wall. She ran out the door and down the stairs to the courtyard. She left the building without being seen and vanished into the burning city. I to left my building to vanish into the flames of the Ruins of a Kingdom known as Moscow.

nice 8.7 / 10