Gabriel, by Adam Towne
_
Mavericks of all types shuffled through the street below him, going
about their questionable and likely illicit business. Gabriel watched
from his rooftop with an uncaring gaze.
His concentration remained focused on the doorway across from his
location. He studied every face that passed in front of his scope,
remaining on one for just a split second before flitting to the next.
His body was still and relaxed, his easy breathing providing
the only visible movement. His mind remained firmly fixed on his
target's image – a red-haired Maverick nicknamed Sniffer.
The man meant nothing to Gabriel. This was merely the task his
bosses required of him. And he'd accepted the job with the same
practiced “Yes sir” he'd been giving for as long
as he could remember. Another face, another target, another
incomprehensible gain for his superiors. None of that mattered to
Gabriel. He was more than content to be a catalyst; a metaphorical
go-between. It gave him a sense of purpose, knowing that without
him and his rifle, the entire plan fell apart.
A flash of red flared into his magnified view, and Gabriel adjusted
accordingly. The man in view matched exactly with the image in his mind.
Satisfaction bloomed in Gabriel's
chest as he readied himself. All according to plan. He was even on
schedule.
Time seemed to stretch as Sniffer's profile came into view, slowing
down for everyone but Gabriel. A gentle pressure on the trigger and the
Clockstopper bucked against his shoulder.
His free hand was already a blur of motion, moving before the first shot
cleared the barrel, and by the time Gabriel re-aligned his sight the
next round was loaded and ready to fire. He watched as the Maverick
started to drop, his hyperactive senses taking
in every detail. Another bit of pressure and the rifle jumped again.
Sniffer slumped to the ground, half of his skull decorating much of the
wall behind him.
Gabriel lifted his head from its resting spot and carefully watched
the street below. Even in this day and age firearms were noisy and
obvious. He had certainly caused a bit
of panic after the initial shock wore off, and most of the Mavericks in
the street had already drawn their own weapons and were ready for
imminent danger. But two had instantly caught Gabriel's attention. They
had stayed a respectable distance from Sniffer
and done well to blend in with the crowd, but it's tough for
professional bodyguards to deal with the sudden loss of their charge
calmly. They knew well enough to not go rushing into the line of fire,
and could easily discern their mark was well beyond assistance.
One of the guards, a man that appeared to be more metal than muscle,
instantly whipped his head around and stared at Gabriel's hidden sniper
nest the moment the gunman made him. He shouted to his partner and
pointed.
But Gabriel was already on the move. He'd leapt from his nest the
moment the bodyguard sensed him, unlimbering his PAW from its mount on
his back. His fingers lingered over his
pack of incendiaries before grabbing the flashbangs. His superiors
always frowned upon unnecessary casualties; said they're “bad for
business”. He loaded the grenades, checked the regular magazine, then
leapt from the rooftop and started moving around the guards'
left side. Midday was not his favorite fighting environment, but he
could easily adapt.
As he closed the distance he fired a flashbang followed by a
five-round burst. He ducked into a small alcove before the grenade
detonated. A startled shout went up as nearby
Mavericks were suddenly rendered temporarily blind and deaf. Gabriel
darted out of his cover to find both guards already bearing down on him.
At this close of range Gabriel could now make out the metallic sheen on
both the guards' irises. Damn cybernetics.
Another five-round burst punctuated his short retreat, catching the
mostly-normal guard in the chest and dropping him to the ground.
A bolt of energy blasted past Gabriel's head, nearly singeing his
close-cropped blond hair. He ducked behind cover once again, mentally
shuffling through the contents of his
many pockets and pouches. He chanced a glance back at the other
bodyguard, only to have to yank his head back to avoid another sizzling
blast. The other bodyguard – Gabriel thought of him mas the cyborg, with
as much cybernetic augmentation he'd had applied
to himself – was bearing down fast on his location. He fished a small
cylinder from a pocket, pressed a button, then dropped it at his feet.
He waited for the cyborg to get close enough, then leapt up and bolted
away. Another beam lanced past him before Gabriel
heard the thump and
distinctive crackling of his dropped EMP grenade. The following cry of
despair confirmed his theory, as the cyborg suddenly found himself
paralyzed. Judging by the quickly shortening gasps
he was making, it was safe to assume the man had had some internal
organs replaced as well.
Gabriel glanced around him, finally taking in the rest of the scene.
Every other Maverick had cleared out once they'd regained their vision,
but Gabriel was sure that reinforcements
would likely be on their way. He didn't need to see the familiar tattoos
or look up the guards' rap sheets to know he'd just killed a couple of
Cartel enforcers. What a freelancer like Sniffer was doing getting
tangled into the Gambler's web was none of his
concern. Judging that there were no other immediate threats, Gabriel
went to collect his rifle and return to Colt-Burton to de-brief.