As he peered through the scope of his rifle, his heart raced with adrenaline. He aimed carefully, accounting for the distance and wind.
"Target's about a few 100 metres away, no wind too, just a breeze." His target, oblivious to what was happening was laying on his stomach with no care for the dry sand sticking to his clothes. He stared through a pair of binoculars, overlooking a campsite.
The sniper continued staring through the scope, his sights now perfectly lined with his target's head. And then he pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoed through the air as he felt the heavy recoil of the weapon. Though he didn't mind it as he smirked while staring through the scope.
The target had a gaping hole where his face used to be, the binoculars once held by him were now scatterd around the ground in renmants. Blake grinned triumphantly at his work, satisfied. But someone else was not, feeling his rifle being wrest from his grasp as he looked to his side and sent the glaring man a scowl.
"Goddamnit Blake! I said just to scare 'em a little not blow his fuckin' brain's out!" Tony all but screeched out. His eye's so wide his right socket with his cybernetic eye threatened to fall out. Tony was an old man, around sixty years old yet he was in perfect shape. No bulging muscles but no beer belly either, if he didn't look like Santa on crack he might've been a real ladies man. Other noticeable features were the aforementioned cybernetic eye in his eye socked, and his metallic like fingers on both hands.
"Don't get your panties in a twist old man, ain't like this is the only scout of theirs I killed." As Blake got up from his position on the sandy ground, he dusted of his clothes as he threw a dry glance Tony's way.
"Fuckin' hell kid, you can't just keep killing everyone one of 'em." Tony spoke, exasperated, like he's had this conversation thousands of times.
"Relax choom. I'm doin' the camp a favour by killing these rats. Mom might think we just need a to scare of 'em off, but these rat's always scurry back" Tony sighed at the young boy's reasoning.
"Seriously how old were you again? Shouldn't boy's your age just be jerking it and thinkin' 'bout chicks or something? Why are you so fuckin' pshyco?"
Blake frowned at the comment but didn't retort, he merely turned around.
"Eh? Where you goin?"
"Got a check up with Doktor, see ya." Blake stated as he took back his rifle. Tony merely watched as Blake retreated down their vantage point that was a sandy hill.
"Fucking hell, kid's these day's."
Meanwhile with Blake, he effortlessly made his way down the steep hill. He mommentarily stopped as he took in the sight of the Badlands. An endless expanse of sand stretched out far, it only being interrupted by the patches of dry bushes and cactuses. And in the far horizon one could make out the outline of a city.
He turned away from the sight as he headed for the main camp. It wasn't overly big, a row of large tents on each side while heavy crates of supplies litterd the ground. Despite how it looked they weren't nomads, well not officially anyway. They weren't part of any big clans, they were just a few people who decided to group together, share supplies and have eachother's backs. That kinda thing.
Some saw each other as family, it made sense in a way. Everyone knew eachother here, all the kid's were friend's and everyone shared. It was nice, but annoying. Each passing day their camp got bigger and bigger. The number of people were increasing day by day, due to so many people joining up with them. People who contributed nothing.
"Parasites." Blake's gaze fell over a lanky man greedily eating a protein bar. He merley sat on the ground, his clothes ragged and his stench foul.
As much as he hated having to waste supplies on the useless, what was he to do? He was just some 'pshyco kid' kid after all. That's the way most of the community saw him any way. Just cause he killed those scouts. Scouts from a small group of Wraiths situated some ways away from the main encampment. Though he didn't know their exact numbers, scouts sent there reported around fourty or so, or there use to be. They had send a number of their own to scout out their encampment. Blake had killed them all of course. And somehow he was a pshyco for taking action.
But it wasn't all bad. He had managed to loot their corpses, and he found something pretty good.
Blake halted his thoughts as he reached his destination, a tent much larger than the rest. Pushing past the entrance Blake was greeted by the sight of what seemed to be a array of different equipment, with orthodontic chair smack dab in the middle of the tent.
"Blakey, my good man!" As the name suggested Doktor wore a long white lab coat, the sleeves torn to make way for his two silver prosthetic arms. He had a head of overly long white hair, and to drive the point home that he was unhinged. He wore goggles. Said goggles had no straps and seemed to be ingrained into where his eye's should be.
"Doktor." Blake acknowledged the ripperdoc as he set his sniper down, leaning it against the tent.
"You're just in time my friend! I've finished analysing and repairing that implant you gave me, mere moments ago." He spoke sounding rather enthusiastic.
"And? It turn out to be anything interesting?"
"A Kiroshi Optic." He stated as Blake let out a whistle, impressed.
"Damn, some Wraith scout was walking around with somethin' like that? Look's like I've hit the jackpot. How much does it sell for anyhow?"
"Ah? You want to sell it? I'd be happy to install it for you, free of charge. I still owe you after all." Doktor offers but Blake merley shook his head.
"Nah, you know how crazy my mom get's when I even bring up implants. Ironic, given how much she has." Blake stated with a shrug.
"What a pity, forced to remain organic forever. And you have such high compatibility too..."
"Yeah, but I gotta delta, 'fore mom get's pissed again. Hold on to that implant for now. See ya later Doc." Slinging his sniper around his should he departed once again.
"Damn, this is so unfair. Gwen get's to have an implant but if I just so much suggest it to her I get put down. And she says she doesn't have any favourites, what bullshit." Blake could only let out a sigh.
Was he just suppose to stay ganic forever? What utter bullshit, without any implants he'd get mowed down instantly in any serious fight. It's why he chose a sniper, he could keep his distance from enemies this way atleast. But not like he was completely useless close range, he does try and work out for all the good it does. But atleast he builds up endurance and what not. But against someone with even just decent implants something like physical prowess was rendered null.
Unfortunately in a world like this, hard work meant nothing and everything meaningful could be attained by getting chromed the fuck up. Truly this world was unfair. But there wasn't much he could do about it, in the grand scheme of thing's he was just another face in the crowd.
Kinda like these parasites. Thrown into the world and given name, set out to seek any worthwhile purpose. Said purpose varies, some wanna get rich, some want their name's in the annuals of history, while some just didn't care. Blake was the latter, his life was unfulfilling really but he liked it that way. The only rush he needed in life was the satisfaction of killing those rodents of the Wraiths.
Though it was becoming dull, the gory sight, the recoil of his rifle, everything. He remembered his first kill, how simple it had been. Just aim the gun and pull the trigger, brilliantly simple. He didn't get those who hesitated, if you come far enough to point a gun at someone's head, then you might as well take the shot, no?
"Maybe I am a pshyco." Blake muttered uncaringly, but his musing was stopped when a voice shouted his name.
"Blaaaake!" A familiar and annoying voice shouted. The source of said voice was obvious, as she was running right at him but quickly came to a skidding halt infont of him. "Where the fuck were you all day?"
His twin sister. Gwendolyn, or just Gwen for short. As twins they looked similar, painfully similar. Wild shoulder length black hair and heterochromia eye's. Her right a dull grey like his own, while her left eye was a dull pinkish colour. An implant, he wasn't sure of the specifics, but apperantly that singular eye had access to night vision and thermal vision. A gift she had received from their mom. Truly she liked playing favourites.
"I was doing my job, ya know patrolling. See some of us actually have to get up our asses and do something."
"That suppose to be a jab at me?" She asked though clearly she already knew the answer.
"Who knows." Blake merely shrugged.
"You gonna ever stop being a dick?"
"Nah, seeing you annoyed gives me a dopamine boost."
"If you like it that much then go stand in a mirror and look miserable."
"Not as fun."
"You're a real piece of shit."
"Eh, been called worse."
"I wonder why? Must be that personality of yours."
"Too much for people to handle, I suppose."
"Yeah, right. But enough of this shit. Mom's waiting back at our tent, and a fair warning she seemed kinda pissed. But you know with how she is, it's hard to tell."
"Great..." Blake sighed, just what he needed, a pissed mom, why was she pissed? Who the fuck knows. "Alright then let's get going."
And like that the twins walked through the encampment side by side, it was silent all around. Most having retired for the day, only one's out were those patrolling the area and those who didn't have any shelter. But the silence was welcomed, until Gwen spoke up.
"Sooo, you gonna tell me what you did that might've pissed off mom?"
"Beats me, she get's pissed at smallest of thing's."
"Maybe you forgot to give her a hug this morning."
"Don't think she cares about that kinda thing, you know what a hard ass she is."
"I'll be sure to tell her what you told me."
"You bitch." Blake delivered the insult without any real malice, while Gwen just stuck out her tounge at him.
"But seriously of course mom's a hard ass, she's an ex mercenary. And it's not like she doesn't have her soft moments."
"Said soft moment's are only involved when in comes to you."
"Again with that shit, seriously you're so emo."
"How the fuck am I emo?"
"Oooh, look at me I'm Blake and my mom doesn't care about me, I'm sooo depressed." She tried to imitate his tone as she mocked him. Much to his increasing annoyance.
"Someone looks nervous."
"Don't judge me." Blake mutterd before entering his tent, and preparing for a pissed mom.