| From: | The Dead Wyrm <oroboros@*****.ARBORNET.ORG> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | R. J. Stormwind's death |
| Date: | Fri, 11 Nov 1994 18:51:57 -0500 |
>>>>>[ Sir, here is the kill-confirmation audio/visual on Robert Stormwind,
Sgt. Maria Tlexipoc spotting/recording, Master Gunnery Sgt. Macrosian True-
Eye firing. Long gun is a customized KDI Excisor, firing caseless specials.
*****BEGIN REPLAY?> Yes
The image goes from a two-second stretch of black to sharper-than-sharp
clarity of image. The lushness of the greenery immediately imposes upon
you that it must be in one of the more tended spots in the world, or else
in one of the more remote; the style of the plants impress the fact that
it is somewhere within the Tropics. The angle shifts, a 'rolling-over,'
and the view is of a very compact man hunched over a rifle that is at
least half and again as tall as his own frame.
The quality of the rifle is evident, despite the camoflague that, if the
cameraperson didn't know where to look, would hide it from the observant
eye. The long gun -- Macros the Black -- shifts his head slightly, then
resettles himself back into his firing groove. "Range me," comes the soft
murmur, a tone that blends into the background music of the jungle. Once
more, the angle changes, a very long shot across the soft curve of a sand-
filled cove. Far down the beach, relaxing in a lounge chair, rests the
recuperating form of Kor.
Red numbers appear at the bottom of the display, while a targetting circle
and crosshairs pin themselves upon the somnambulent form. A second voice
speaks in the same controlled murmur...
Maria: Eleven-fifty meters to the lemonade glass.
Macros: This pushes it. Get me that wind data.
Maria: Yessir. (Her voice drops, sub-vocalising words into a headware
radio.) << Environmental. >>
Third Voice, from the radio: << Two-point-six meters per second, heading
two-zero-five-point-two, speed and heading steady. >>
Maria: (again full vocal, repeats the information)
Macros: Locate those Sioux bastards for me.
Maria: Yessir. << Secondary targets. >>
Fourth Voice: << Target Beta-one, north end of the beach, inbound. >>
The camera changes angles with a flicker, reaching the extra range to spot
the Sioux Wildcat -- one of Stormwind's old friends -- strolling up towards
Kor, enjoying surf, sand, and sun. Even in his casual pose, though, the
near-legendary Wildcat carries multiple weapons, including an SMG, a heavy
pistol, and two combat knives. He is still several hundred feet from Kor,
but is obviously patrolling.
Fifth Voice: << Targets Beta-two and Beta-three accompanying Strike Alpha,
en route to beach. ETA forty-five seconds. >>
Maria: << Acknowledged. Stand by. >> Macbeth enters upstage, ETA forty-
five seconds.
Macros: *grunts* Online.
Maria: << Online. Radio silence enforced. Spotter Macros will break only
upon Strike Alpha. Confirm shutdown. >>
Three double-clicks sound, then nothing from the radio, except for the wind
through the trees and the sound of birds and other local fauna. The camera
has returned to the crosshairs upon Kor's drink, which he lifts and takes a
sip from. To be honest, he really _does_ look beat up; if Freddy Frypp is
going to hire him, he'd better give Kor a vacation previous to the hiring
date.
Macros: Is the kid a target?
Maria: Negative. Dossier only fingers Robert.
Macros: *grunts* Both of them are mages. 'Pipo's gonna pay for this shot.
The scene jiggles a bit as Maria shakes her head, but steadies once more as
the primary target, Robert Stormwind, enters the scene from the jungle path
leading down to the water. His mouth moves, and he is obviously calling
something out to his son. Kor looks slightly upset, turning up towards his
father, then settling back into his chair. Another figure, not including the
two Wildcats that spread warily out across the beach, enters behind Storm-
wind. A brief label, added post-filming, identifies the figure as 'the
Whistler'.
Both men sit in the sand, Whistler on the far side of Kor, his father slightly
forward and on the near side. Both are speaking in turns, not giving Kor a
chance to get a word in edgewise. The shadowrunning mage is becoming
obviously upset at whatever it is they're telling him.
Macros: What the hell are they telling him? I wish they'd stop it; I
can't get a good shot with all that carrying on.
Maria: *silence, then:* Something about a woman. My english isn't too
good.
Macros: Dammit....
After a few minutes of debate and argument, Kor stands up, pacing out to
the line where the sand meets the blue waters of the Gulf. Robert and the
Whistler exchange glances, and then the father stands, walking down to
stand in the water and face his son. With placiating gestures, he begins
to explain something to Kor...
Macros: Contact.
The sudden thunderclap of the Excisor firing a twin-round burst is
enough to shift the sound off, though just for a moment. The moment is
all the time needed, though, as the two messengers of life-ending speed
downrange. Time shudders, stretches.......
One of the Wildcats, one that came down with Robert, shifts in the sand
as a sixth sense, perhaps magical, tells him of imminent danger to his
charge. Had he been two meters closer, he may have intercepted the
shots with his own body, and saved Stormwind's life....
The second one to come down with Rob continues to walk, apparently
oblivious to the death heading towards his lifetime friend....
The Whistler blinks as the muzzle-flash of the rifle catches his gaze;
were he a more physical person instead of a decker, he may have been able
to shout out a warning. As it is, he can only stare for the moments it
takes the bullets to travel seven-tenths of a mile.
Robert Stormwind might have known they were coming. He was, after all,
one of the Sioux Council's top magic men, a theoretician and practicioner
of top standing. He definitely knew the bullets were approaching; that
is apparent by the way he began to turn his head. Most likely, Bob was
using a detection spell, probably anchored with an anti-bullet barrier.
He was, again conjecture, expecting the barrier to save his life, as
perhaps it did a number of times before. And, if not that, then the spirit
bonded to this service, or the spells laid upon his body, to enhance its
resistant and recuperative abilities. Armor. Healing.
Macros the Black, on the other hand, knew his target. He knew he was facing
a mage of power, and so he equipped himself with the weapons that would
eliminate that advantage. Spells were anchored to the bullets as well;
both would penetrate, even destroy, manipulation spells. The first carried
an extra punch, designed against spirits in order to dispose of such protective
beings. The second was designed to fragment, quite viciously, on impact with
a material target.
At 10:22:54 local time, Robert J. Stormwind enters immortality. The second
bullet enters his head just behind his left eye, traversing one fourth of his
skull before fragmenting and destroying the rest of the left frontal lobe and
entire upper right lobe of his brain. The surf immediately to his right
became a mixture of red and grey.
*****Video Ends
Kill Confirmed. Withdrawl successful; no losses. ]<<<<<
-- Spotter Macros <15:09:27/11-10-55>
