"Damn! Spooky!"
"Sniper!"
"Damn it, a sneak attack!"
...
Almost in unison, the three men vented their anger, ruthlessly bad-mouthing the "sniper" and his ancestors.
Flossie Wright, leaning against a tree trunk, heard their curses in her ears. The gun she had been about to withdraw remained still. She touched her nose, closed her right eye, and aimed through the scope again. Then she ruthlessly pulled the trigger again, directly aiming at the head of the one who was cursing the most.
Then, the cursing disappeared without a trace.
"Damn!"
At the same time, watching the soldier she had overpowered get a bullet to the head, Stuart Weston almost fell back in shock. No matter how much he trusted Flossie's shooting, he couldn't help but swear low under his breath, then he hastened to tie up the "dead man".
