After Swagger fired, his position was inevitably compromised.
The mercenaries didn't all charge the cabin at once; instead, they split into two teams. Most advanced on the front and back doors, while a few stayed behind to provide security and overwatch.
Those were Swagger's targets.
Even though his first shot hadn't been aimed at them, even though they tried every tactical trick in the book to confuse him, it was useless. In such open terrain, when an elite sniper like Swagger had you in his sights, there was no escaping death.
One by one, the unlucky overwatch units were picked off, and in the process, Swagger finally appeared in Janet's scope.
Just as he was about to take out his last target, a sharp instinct kicked in—a sudden prickling sensation between his brows. He hadn't felt this kind of sixth sense in years.
Alarmed, Swagger didn't hesitate. He rolled away from his sniper's nest. A split second later, a bullet tore through the spot where he had just been lying—an 800-meter sniper shot that missed by inches.
Swagger scrambled back, flattening himself into the low ground. He now knew he was being hunted. Based on the trajectory, he quickly narrowed the shooter's location to somewhere between his 11 and 2 o'clock.
But where had this sniper come from? Swagger was certain—if there had been another sniper hidden out there before, he would have noticed.
On the northern slope, Janet angrily spat out the blade of grass in her mouth. She had no idea how Swagger had detected her. That shot should have been a kill—but he had dodged it, and now he was gone.
She scanned the area through her scope, but aside from wind-blown grass and gently swaying blades, there was no sign of life.
…
Pa… pa… pa… pa… pa… pa…
After the breach at the rear door, Owen's situation took a turn for the worse.
The enemy wasn't charging blindly. They suspected more traps and pressed in carefully but relentlessly. Once they spotted him, they kept on his tail.
Owen's HK416 was proving to be a problem. Since it was a civilian version acquired from a gun store, it only supported single-fire mode. No bursts.
The truth was, the restriction was just a mechanical limiter that could be removed with the right tools—but Owen had none. So he had to make do.
On the upside, firing one shot at a time meant his ammo lasted longer—he hadn't even swapped mags yet.
As the enemy closed in, Owen tossed a grenade down the hallway.
BOOM!
They fell back again. The ground they had just fought tooth and nail to gain was lost in an instant.
Using terrain and explosives to his advantage, Owen held the line at the stairwell.
The mercs, stuck at the staircase, were getting frustrated—but their attempts to charge up were repeatedly repelled.
While Owen was laying down fire, he suddenly noticed a change in light behind him. He spun around in a flash—someone had climbed through the window!
Pa! Pa!
Two quick shots sent the intruder tumbling out of sight, shattering the window as he fell.
But the distraction had worked. The others used the chance to rush the stairs. Owen had no choice but to retreat, firing from the hallway as he backed off.
…
West side, mountain slope. The lush green grass looked uniform to the naked eye, but if you focused long enough on a spot, subtle differences emerged.
Lying prone, Swagger flipped his camo netting. Its brown exterior was now green—perfect for switching between dead wood and grassy fields.
His scope moved slowly, methodically scanning the northern slope. Patience and meticulousness—two must-have traits for any sniper. Swagger had both in spades.
As Swagger vowed to find her, Janet was scanning just as carefully, trying to relocate the ghost who had vanished after dodging death.
She had moved positions after missing her shot. Even though she was a hired killer and sniping wasn't her specialty, she knew the basics: never stay in one spot after firing.
But now they were back to square one. Swagger had vanished again. Janet had swept the western slope multiple times, but he was like a phantom.
At one point, her crosshairs had passed right over Swagger—yet she'd seen nothing unusual. But Swagger had noticed the glint of her scope.
He adjusted slightly. Through his optic, Janet's face appeared. He furrowed his brow—it was her.
Janet had no idea she was now directly in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle camouflaged in muted forest colors.
"Owen, guess who the sniper is?"
Swagger's voice came through the comms, startling not only Owen but Janet—who had been eavesdropping the whole time.
"What? The sniper isn't one of the mercs?"
Owen had a bad feeling.
"It's that female assassin—the one who brought people to 'audition' earlier."
Owen froze. He hadn't expected that.
Before he could say anything, the mercs outside pushed forward again.
Pa, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa!
Owen fired wildly in their direction.
"She's really not your girlfriend, huh?"
"Of course not."
"Okay. Since she's not… then I don't need to hold back."
Swagger's voice turned cold. Owen felt a chill run down his spine.
BANG BANG
Two shots echoed in Owen's earpiece.
…
On the northern slope, Janet had realized the truth the moment she heard the conversation. She had been found. Worse—Swagger had her zeroed in.
"Shit… Why the hell did I take this job? Facing off against a master sniper in open terrain? What the hell was I thinking?"
For a moment, she regretted everything.
Hearing Swagger say he "wouldn't hold back," Janet didn't waste another second. She threw her rifle aside and dove into a roll.
A bullet punched into where she had just been. Another narrowly missed as she rolled away.
Janet kept tumbling until she landed in a shallow depression.
It was an awkward position, her body aching from the impact with hidden rocks—but she didn't dare move. She knew Swagger was still watching.
"You kill her?"
"No. She dodged it."
"…"
Owen went silent. He didn't have deep feelings for Janet—but they had fought side by side in Paris, once upon a time. There had always been a sense of mutual respect.
They were enemies now. But still—he had hoped it wouldn't come to this.
THUP THUP THUP THUP THUP THUP~~~~~
The sound of rotor blades approached. Swagger looked up—a helicopter was heading their way.
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa!
Owen's firefight intensified. The enemy had lost all patience. They emerged from cover, charging in recklessly.
Shit!
Owen shot one down but took a round himself. Fortunately, his vest caught it—but the impact still knocked the wind out of him.
Pa! Pa!
His last two bullets spent, the HK416 locked open. No time to reload—he dropped it and switched to his P226.
The sharp "PA-PA" of the assault rifle became the rapid "puff-puff" of the suppressed handgun—but the rate of fire only increased.
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