In the first sentry post that Lucas identified previously, the bored machine gunner was looking out of the window. After all, apart from some actions almost two hours ago which adrenaline had already faded away, he had been standing at the same place, doing nothing and enduring the same bleak scenery.
He was young man of average height with ammunition for his murder tool running across his torso, a handgun in the belt and a turban on the head.
His dark skin color made his descent certain however, the one he was conversing with was obviously of another origin, what with his white skin showing signs of maltreatment by the desert harshness.
The later was showing a depraved smile when he heard what his companion was saying with envy:
"You are very lucky Faïze. When we go back to the camp later after we are done here, the chief will honor his promise of giving one of the girls taken from the previous raid to you as a wife. She will be young, tender and fresh."
"Indeed Abdul. I can't wait for our return. I hope the chief will let me choose myself. When I get her-"
"Okay, okay, stop it. I'm jealous enough already."
The white terrorist, Faïze could only comfort his machine gunner friend:
"Abdul, you don't have to worry. I'm sure you will soon get a wife too. The chief will not forget you and maybe he will even reward you with more than one. You have been devoted to the cause for longer than me, haven't you?"
And indeed hearing that, Abdul moral was raised.
"I hope you are right. The cause is good and all but the loneliness in the cold nights of the desert is killing. It would be good if the chief was to really give me more than one.
I just don't know if I will be too exhausted to tame this big guy when the time comes. Hahahahaha..."
Saying that, he patted the big gun he was manning.
"..."
Not getting the reaction he expecting, nor any reaction at all, he called out to his friend:
"What do you think, Faïze?"
"..."
Now frowning at absolute lack of response from behind, he was about to turn around to take a look while once again calling his friend:
"Faïze?"
Unfortunately, just at this moment, he felt a big hand cover his mouth. It was gloved and he almost thought he smelled the desert from it.
Before he could be startled and start to panic, he felt a piercing pain on his back, causing him to inhale sharply. Too bad that only made him feel like there was a fire in his lungs, followed by a sensation like he was drowning. That made him hyperventilate and robbed him of any strength to fight back against the unexpected aggression.
The chaotic state he was suddenly plunged into made him unable to think. Numbness started pervading his whole body and darkness started taking hold of his consciousness. His last flash of clarity of his existence only allowed him to formulate one last thought, one monosyllabic thought summing up how confused he was by this situation along with that little bit of resentment, that didn't even manage to really form amidst the all-pervading confusion, at being robbed of the warmth of life:
'Who...?'
Lucas felt the machine gunner's life slip away from his body like water from a basket.
Actually, he arrived since a while ago but since this was the first beat of the tango he was supposed to dance with a whole town of terrorists, he wanted it to be perfect while also serving as practice for the steps that will follow.
So, while he did not understand what his targets were saying, even if they seemed to be talking in Arabic, he took advantage of their noise to stealthily enter the room they occupied in the building and closed in on the white terrorist.
Taking advantage of a lull in their conversation, he drove his knife, one of the results of his looting, diagonally in the neck of the latter from right to left all the way to the lung, damaging along the way muscles, carotid and trachea.
To not give himself away due to the spurts of blood, he abandoned his knife in its new home and very slowly helped his victim lie down, not really knowing whether he could appreciate the gesture since he must have been dying amidst sufferings. Hence, taking his knife that he will never need again from his thigh, he closed in on the now monologuing machine gunner and just as he was about to turn around, he stabbed him between the ribs on the left side from behind, puncturing his heart after ripping his left lung.
He made sure to keep the knife oblique to avoid it puncturing the front to keep it unblemished. Then, using everything he could find in the room, broken furniture, sand bags, even his companion that started his afterlife journey before him and his rifle, he adjusted him to keep a standing posture to produce the illusion that nothing was wrong. He even ripped part of the late machine gunner own pants to tie him to his beloved gun.
Once done with his masterpiece, he checked it one last time before going through the supplies they had on them, took what could be of use before taking the machine gunner knife and turning around. After all, who would go around with bloodied tools if he could help it. And more practically, someone could be alerted by the scent of blood he would spread in that case and be on guard, ending his stealthy kill streak.
Leaving the building, he checked his surroundings, crouched in another shadow and started moving toward his next designated target.
The hunt was just starting, the Ghost's job was not done yet, not before haunting the whole town.