I don’t like the outdoors, honestly.
I know that has to be the strangest thing I’ve said, especially as a Marine and being out in the Frontier,
but it’s still true. I don’t like being outside.
Even as I sit in the sandbag and armorpanel… sniper’s hide? glorified hunting tent? I don’t know what
to call this damn thing. See, Frontier cells have been getting kind of smart, you see? They roll in with
armored cars filled with explosives, cameras with wires fed around big hunks of whatever, that make
their cars just bulletproof enough to let them slam it into a checkpoint.
So I’m here, watching, waiting, looking through the scope of a rifle.
Days like today are when it gets interesting. Five cars, some of the domestic fastbuilds and a Daihotai. The cars, they’re alloy roll cages and sheet metal bodies. Might stop a pistol bullet, but they’re barely windproof, much less bulletproof. A Daihotai, though… I’ve seen them stagger on after rocket launcher hits. They’re tough enough inside that fragmentation doesn’t bother the guy in the driver’s seat much unless you hit right over him.
Or…
The truck starts speeding up. I focus in on the windshield, adjusting for range, call in, and wait for the response. It comes soon enough.
“Larson, drop him.”
“Affirm.”
BLAM! The massive 10x52mm bullet crazes the windshield, but it doesn’t break. I center, fire, and hit it two more times before one of the bullets breaks through and the vehicle slowly swerves off the road.
Just like clockwork.