Whether in the movie, in life, or in real war, sniping is a palpitating and fantastical word.

These mysterious killers in the eyes of ordinary people are arrogant falcons on the battlefield. Far from the battlefield, they scrutinize everything with a sharp eye, select a target, and kill with one blow.

Whether it was a high-ranking military rank or a cigarette that flickered out in the trenches in the dark night, a finger in the depths of the cloud gently constricted, becoming a name on the list of killed or a star on the list of sniper records.

The sniper is the grim grim reaper of the void. Their bodies were shrouded in a thick fog that was difficult to disperse. Quietly wielding the life-harvesting scythe in the void, he quietly departed.

It's romantic, isn't it? Unfortunately, these are all legends.

The fat man pouted and lay on his stomach in a pile of rotten mud crawling with dead leaves. His neck was stubbed, his eyes swept around the scope. Of all the skills he worked on assiduously, the liar was his favorite. If nymphomania is a skill, the fat man would choose this. Anyway, snipers are what he hates the most.

The reason why he practiced sniping hard at the beginning was that the fat man really fell for the legend. Because he had the impression that a sniper didn't have to charge stupidly with a gun. Hide in a safe place and just hit others. Such a good thing has a great attraction to the fat man who didn't understand it very well at the time and was greedy for life and afraid of death.

In fact, contrary to most people's romantic imagination, snipers are perhaps the most boring, lonely, and least romantic profession in war.

There is no mechwarrior who rushes forward like a bamboo. Collide hard. There were no infantry mountain tsunami charges. Fight. There is no blood boiling, and there is no life and death. Snipers, always changing positions again and again, choosing targets, enduring monotonous artillery and explosions, enduring hunger and cold. Enduring the scorching sun. Endured with mosquitoes, rats and ants. Just for the moment when the trigger was pulled.

Snipers of antiquity. Most also have observers. And modern snipers, who are lonely, they have to look for targets on their own and make their own judgments. Their only companion was the sniper rifle that replaced the observer.

In sniper training. They would often hold heavy training guns and stand in the scorching sun or cold wind to aim for a few or even a dozen hours. Their eyes are to be trained so long without blinking their arms. It is more stable than the butt of a machine gun.

They spend their days identifying the environment, wind direction, light, angle, stealth and hiding, firearms knowledge, and time control. Listening, these boring subjects to deal with. Many of them completed their training and went on the battlefield to die without firing a single shot.

It's because they're so well hidden, so good that no one knows where they're hiding.

In the scope, the electronic identifier has been turned on, and Stephen's height, weight, and appearance characteristics have been entered by the fat man. As soon as there is an eligible target, the scope automatically locks on and sends a signal. That's the ultimate goal. In the secondary goal, the fat man set the epaulettes of Gacharin above the colonel.

This Milanese sniper rifle is modeled after the Garand. It uses the most advanced sight that Leray can get. Chackner "Hawkeye 1300E" with both optical and electronic modes. In terms of value. This scope is twice as large as the sniper rifle it is mounted on.

And this sniper rifle is not cheap, in fact, it is better than the sniper rifles used by most of the top snipers in the universe. Milan has never thought much about the cost of making things.

Thinking of Milan, the fat man squinted his eyes and rubbed his cheek on Garand. The smooth body of the gun resembles the cool skin of Milan. Intoxicated for a long time. Keep your eyes on the scope and look down.

The south gate of the Clijsters base. Dozens of heavy transport trucks are lining up to pass several checkpoints. The captain of the sentry on duty took the electronic identity card handed out by the driver and checked the fingerprints. Other sentries climbed into the truck to inspect. Two old Gachalin-style [Holy Sword] 14 mechas. Straight at the energy cannon, stand on both sides of the sentry post.

A truck that passed the inspection site drove into the base. A group of patrol sentries walked in a straight line past the truck. In the tarmac to the left of the patrolman, there were several training mechs that were older than the [Holy Sword] 14 at the door. A maintenance team is crawling on several mechs for overhaul.

Not far away, to the east of the oval training ground, dozens of soldiers were panting for obstacle course training, and a soldier about the size of a fat man climbed on a six-meter wall and couldn't climb down. The officers below the ground yelled. The other, slender soldier, struggled to hold a heavy energy rifle into a chest-high puddle of water, crying as he went.

In the aisle at the edge of the training ground, two colonel officers were talking about something, and when they saw a lieutenant general approaching, they hurriedly stood up and saluted. Unbeknownst to the hurried lieutenant general, his head was being aimed at a sniper rifle three kilometers away in a straight line. He returned the salute hastily, handed the electronic folder he was holding in his right hand to his left, and walked briskly up the stairs of the main door of a small building, disappearing into the doorway beside the saluting sentry.

"Whew." The fat man exhaled softly. Finding key targets along the lines of the characters in question is a common method for snipers. And this lieutenant general, under the watchful eye of the fat man, is the seventeenth officer to enter this tightly guarded small building at the rank of colonel or above. From this, the fat man can be sure that even if Stephen is not here now, he will definitely be here at some point.

For these generals and nobles of Gacharin's military, the fat man could not be more familiar. The Skynet pictures taken by the little kid point to the same place as the command forces of the Stephen Group. At such a critical moment in the battle situation, who could gather so many high-ranking generals here except Stephen?

All that seems needed now is to wait.

The scope moved gently. The small building is a typical Tanville building. It has slender windows and heavy doors. The building is three stories high, and when viewed from the air, it has a concave shape. On the herringbone roof, there are also several attic-like windows. Beige floor walls throughout the building

_ and styling are unremarkable. It looks like an old library on a college campus.

Naturally, the fat man will not be deceived by the appearance of this building. Such buildings can be found in almost every base in the Gacha woodland. The North Building II of the Mythical Legion is an example. When the base was built, it was used as a gathering place for military commanders and commands, and these buildings were usually made of high-strength alloy walls. Other words. Under the old appearance of the small building, it is actually a pair of steel and iron bones.

The several attics on the roof of the small building are actually small anti-aircraft missile bases. There, at least one platoon of soldiers was responsible for aiming missiles at any flying object that entered the air defense zone. And the layout of the perimeter of the small building. The entire building was guarded by other buildings and armored camps, missile launchers, and firing points scattered around it. Water can't be splashed.

The building is not to think of entering. The fat man believed that even if he could sneak into the base, he only needed to get close to the small building. At least a hundred pairs of eyes and hundreds of guns will be aimed at you at the same time.

Like a fat earthworm, the fat man carefully retracted his body into the dirt covered with rotting leaves and dead branches. Only eyes and sniper rifles are exposed. Despite changing into protective clothing, the biodetection radar in the enemy base is not vegetarian. When the upper body is exposed to the outside for a little too long. I might have confessed this body here.

Two [Fighting Falcon] armored fighters rose from the distant horizon of the base, one after the other in the air, whistling low above the fat man's head. The mountain wind is blowing. The canopy swayed and rattled. A few frightened birds fluttered their wings and flew up. After a few turns, I went back to the woods.

A three-step snake peculiar to Mozici weaves through the fallen leaves. It swam not far from the fat man. Spit out the letter, the snake's head was slightly raised, swung left and right, and swam away in a different direction. Among the dead leaves, there were two slight noises, and then there was silence again.

The fat man turned a deaf ear to everything that was happening around him. He rested his face on the butt of his gun. The eyes are on the scope like a lifeless stone sculpture. His body has become completely integrated with the environment. Heartbeat. Only forty beats per second. No more, no less. Breathe evenly and gently for a long time.

Sniper rifles, kept firing. The crosshair of the scope is set at the opening of the small building. The word "waiting" is a stupid way to do it. But. For snipers. This is often done in the local way. The difference between a sniper and the farmer is that. Snipers are more patient and will choose the tree that is most likely to be hit by a rabbit.

In the scope, two sentries on the left side of the small building block the gate by a small half. And down the steps in front of the doorway, a few big trees. and plants in the small garden in front of the building. A semi-occluded space is formed. It seems like a small gap. In the case of a moving target, it will cause a lot of trouble for snipers who are several kilometers away. If you add the guards or others next to the target. The possibility of sniping the target is almost non-existent.

The sniper rifle's crosshairs, as the fat man breathed, swayed back and forth like a swing, up and down the doorway and the short three stairs in front of the doorway. This distance is the fat man's only chance to snipe Stephen. Once Stephen gets out of this position, the success rate of sniping will be reduced by 80%. Reluctantly making a move is extremely unwise for any sniper who snipes at an important target.

Buried in the mud for a long time, the blood supply is already a little difficult. The fat man adjusted the rhythm of his breathing. Thousands of miles airborne, long runs. This is the only opportunity to come and wait.

The fingers, half a centimeter from the trigger, the eyes and the heartbeat, are the only parts of the body that are active.

The rest of the body is no longer your own. For a good sniper, the body is nature, the dirt, the trees, the mountains. After entering the sniper position, what the sniper needs is to be calmer and calmer than this mountain forest.

In front of Skynet, there was a dead silence. No one cares about how Skynet invaded the anti-detection system to obtain the footage. Waiting is a kind of torment. This kind of torment is especially strong against the backdrop of the stone-like fat man in the mud.

The base of Clijsters is still noisy and busy. Transport convoys, mechs, soldiers come and go. The training on the training ground was over, and the two soldiers, one fat and one thin, were bloody, and the dogs who were left behind by the training officers to scold them. In the distance, patrol fighters took off and landed. And Stephen, still did not appear. Those who entered the small building were senior officers. It also seems to have disappeared.

What are they doing now, in meetings, in planning operations, chatting over coffee?

Everyone's mind is full of speculation. They tried to calm themselves down and not be so upset, but the chaotic thoughts still appeared in their minds from time to time. A few hours passed. What about the fat man, what was he thinking about now. When will he be able to complete that earth-shattering blow in the depths of this mud? That shot. Will it hit? Will his hands tremble?

On the Skynet, the fat man tilted his ear.

The atmosphere in front of Skynet suddenly became tense. Less than four hundred paces away from the fat man, a patrol consisting of a [Holy Sword] 18 and five soldiers appeared.

*******

The operational meeting is over. Stephen leaned back in his chair and let out a rare stretch. Since he was a child, he has cultivated the cultivation of the nobility and is cautious in his words and deeds, and rarely makes him so loose in front of everyone.

"It was defeated." Stephen looked at the battle report in his hand again with some unsatisfactory feelings.

No one could have imagined that Gacharin's most elite legion, the most stinky general, would be thrown to pieces. Reinhardt this time. It's a shame.

The news. A few hours ago. It's not that funny. However, when Desik's armored forces captured Pulsk with a thunderous force and rapidly advanced eastward, the news became interesting.

By mistake, under his own management, Feiyang's elite armored division is still trapped in it. Nearly forty infantry divisions and sixteen

Divisions took turns to block. So that the Feiyang people have never been able to form an effective breakthrough. , leaning towards yourself at a little bit.

As long as this campaign is over, West Dating understands that Reinhardt is not as strong as he seems. The one who really dominates this planet is the old aristocracy of Gacharin! Or the Morton family!

Stephen put down the battle report and looked up at the war room. The generals were chatting with a relaxed expression. Some people are still adding coffee to their cups. None of them seemed ready to leave right away. After straining your nerves for so long, now is a rare opportunity for everyone to relax.

Suddenly, Stephen remembered his big half-brother again. After a hint of depression, he shook his head and smiled. Now consider these. I can't help but push myself too hard. Days to come. It's still growing.

Stephen stood up, surrounded by several gossiping generals and cronies. Walk outside. The 39th Division was the last decisive force in its hands. Now, it is time to let this tiger out, and if you make a mistake, you must not lose it before the dawn of victory. And he has already prepared an impassioned speech, and he will personally march for his most intimate team.

The corridor of the small building is a little dark. This is determined by the materials used in the construction of this fortress-like building. Walking down the stairs, outside the gate that had been pushed open by the guards, the sun was shining and the air was fresh.

Stephen smiled and walked towards the door.

***************

The patrol made its way up the ridge path. Perhaps it was because in the rear, the soldiers on patrol were chatting as they walked. The noise is getting closer.

"Turbidity is quiet Xu Qing." The fat man was still holding the gun steadily, and at this time, he was not only heartbroken. He even turned himself into a peaceful lake. The sound and vibration of the mecha getting closer and closer behind him have been excluded from the six senses.

When in the scope, several guards pushed open the door and walked out, in a warning position. In the fat man's consciousness, the whole world disappeared, and only three kilometers away, only the point above the ground on the crosshairs.

In front of Skynet, some staff officers had already closed their eyes, and most of them had already sweated in their palms. The silence of the sniper rifle is relative to the sniper target. In this mountain forest, that gunshot may not reach the Clijsters base, but it will definitely not be able to escape the collection of the mecha that is only 100 meters away!

"Death is the cycle of life. When we face each other...... "The fat man breathed in the slightest rhythm of the sniper rifle in his hand, ignoring the patrols that were getting closer and closer behind him.

The recitation continues: "I'm not a killer, you're not a victim, we're just, dragged into this vortex by fate......"

[Holy Sword] 18 single-soldier humanoid mecha has already walked to the hillside behind the fat man and is patrolling around. There was a screeching sound from the body. Behind, the patrolman panted and followed, and one soldier leaned against a tree, bent over and panting and complaining, drawing laughter from the other soldiers.

In the scope, several generals stepped out of the door of the small building first, their bodies half on their sides. In the direction of the half-encirclement of these generals, in the crosshairs, a crowded Stephen appeared.

The sunlight casts on the eaves of the small building's doorway, slanting down a shadow. Stephen was talking as he walked briskly forward. Most of his body was blocked by a lieutenant general beside him, and in the crosshairs, he could only glimpse his smiling face.

"In this earthly whirlpool, I didn't choose ......" The muzzle of the black hole slowly moved as he read silently. Just over a dozen meters behind him, the mocked soldier waved his gun angrily and made a threatening gesture.

Stephen stepped out of the shadows, took a deep breath in the sunlight, and quickly stepped down the first step. And the general beside him had already stepped down the second step. A gap suddenly flashed.

"And you... There is no choice either. The recitation is over. The front sight, firmly nailed to the target.

It was as if after 10,000 years, and the gunshots rang out. In the Skynet picture, Stephen's head suddenly shifted. A scattered mist of blood erupted, spewing his face all over the face of a general beside him who was talking to him.

Several guards pounced on them, and a female officer, who followed behind, let out a terrible scream.

Stephen fell. Head touches the ground. The rapidly spreading pool of blood was so shocking in the sunlight. His head was cut with a large hole in the side. His eyes, hollowly open, stared at the sky. In the sky, two unknown birds, with a crisp call, chased each other and flew up to the eaves of the small building.

In front of Skynet, Nia grabbed Bonnie. The hands of the two women, clasped tightly together.

This shot took away all the strength of the fat man. He never regained his former composure. The facial features on a fat face have all been squeezed together. The fat body slipped into the mud one by one. Silently chanting quickly and quickly: "Can't see me, can't see me, can't see me." ”

The soldier wielding the energy gun in his hand looked stunned. His companions, also startled by the gunshot, turned back and glared at him after reflexively dodging. The soldier looked aggrieved and muttered, "It's not me! He flipped the gun in his hand over and over again.

Time, as if frozen. A few seconds is as long as centuries.

In the sky, a warplane whizzed, getting lower and lower, and fell towards the airfield far from the base. At this moment, a sharp and piercing alarm suddenly sounded from the base.

On the roof, on the side of the road, at the gate. The alarm lights spun desperately, and the red glow stained the entire base.

*********