Sharpshooting test

The radio on your belt crackled, Mills’ voice compressed and static-ridden but clear. “Master, we’re ready up top. Vanders is prepped. You should see this.”

You acknowledged, clipping the radio back onto your pants. The weight of it still felt foreign, a symbol of command you were slowly growing into. You took the stairs two at a time, the concrete echo a familiar percussion in the empty stairwell. Pushing the heavy door open, the rooftop expanse hit you. The vast, washed-out blue of the sky and the panoramic view of the battered city. The air was cleaner up here, sharp with a salt breeze from the Pacific coast a few miles away.

Mills stood near the parapet with her hands clasped behind her back. Beside her, Zhang was sipping from a canteen, her expression unreadable. Vanders, for her part, was a study in concentration, already prone behind her high-powered sniper rifle, the same trusty and highly efficient piece of machinery known as the XM10 rifle most of your claimed squad have become skilled in using. According to a past conversation with the good lieutenant when you asked about the model out of curiosity, it was apparently their overall favorite semi-automatic weapon ever since the model was invented and distributed in the early months of the year 2040, and it had served them well in target practice and when they had gotten in bloody scraps.

Near Sergeant Vanders, you noticed that the shorter Sergeant Garcia stood nearby, her hand reassuringly placed upon her girlfriend’s back. Amelia Barnes, for her part, was watching them with eager, hawk-like eyes, and your computer and drone technician, Zachary, was cross-legged on the tarred roof, a tablet balanced on his knees, his fingers moving with nervous energy.

“Firefighter Parker reported in,” Mills said without preamble as you finally approached. “She’s downstairs with the others, going over the breaching tools. I’ve added her to the stack for tomorrow.” She nodded toward Vanders. “We’ve talked. Zhang’s cleared her physically. But I want to see aim properly one more time before I green-light her for overwatch. A field test to ensure her eye-to-hand coordination has not suffered too much from the strain of her injuries when she was knocked out in that last battle downtown.”

You followed her gaze. Vanders looked fiercely focused, her eyes glued to the scope. The memory of hearing that concerning tale about her being affected by a lightning strike that struck near her position and left her **** before being found by the Cruz family of doctors flashed in your mind. And you immediately got the feeling that for this driven woman, this was about more than just a skill check; it was about proving to herself she was still whole.

“Makes sense,” you said, your voice low. “What’s the target?”

Zachary spoke up, tilting the tablet. “Drone’s up. Found a solo walker way down in the gully, past the old highway. Range is…shit, eight hundred seventy meters, easy. Clean lane, no wind to speak of.”

“That’s your half-mile,” Amelia breathed, raising an eyebrow even as a grin spread across her face. “Hell of a first shot back if you keep insisting, Sergeant.”

Vanders didn’t look up. “I want that one,” she said, her voice steady. “The distance should help immensely with masking our position from any nearby packs, with the noise being less likely to draw a horde up the hill. The silencer will handle the rest.”

You understood her calculus as soon as she said it. It was aggressive and confident too. The kind of move that spoke of boldness and a desire to excel. So, you nodded at Mills. “Let’s do it then.”

The world narrowed to the rooftop as no one said a word and remained silent. The distant groan of the city faded into white noise. Then you watched Vanders settle, her breathing slowing until her voluptuous chest barely moved. The rifle seemed to become an extension of her arm while she remained a statue of deliberate calm. Garcia

“Feed is live,” Zachary just barely whispered, as if noise could disrupt the shot from here.

On the tablet screen, the grainy greyscale image showed a lone figure, a dark smudge shuffling aimlessly through shattered asphalt and scrub. It was an abstract thing from this distance, a pixelated problem, as Zachary clearly didn't want to agitate the wandering zombie with the presence of the drone, which is why it maintained some distance. But you imagined that through the scope, it was something else.

The crack of the shot soon followed, and it was a dry, muted thwip, nothing like the movies, probably the efficient silencer's doing. The recoil shuddered through Vanders’ frame all the same, though, a contained, professional jolt. For nearly two seconds, nothing.

Then Zachary let out a held breath. “Target down. Clean through the temple. No movement. Whoa!”

Amelia whooped, clapping her hands together once. “Holy shit, Vanders! Eight-seven-zero meters, first-round impact! That’s…that’s insane!” She declared, her admiration raw and infectious.

A wave of relief washed over you, followed by a spike of fierce pride. This was your asset, your people. The marker’s claim ensured loyalty, sure, but this—this skill, this nerve—was entirely hers. It was a piece of the old world, polished and lethal, that you desperately needed.

Mills’ stern expression softened into a tight, approving smile. “Sergeant Vanders, consider yourself cleared for overwatch duties. You’re on the roster for Vista Nova. You, Amelia, and Zachary will be our eyes.”

“Outstanding,” you said, aware that it felt like the word carried more weight than its military parlance.

You looked directly at Vanders as she finally lifted her face from the scope. A flush of color had returned to her cheeks, and in her eyes, you didn’t just see the satisfaction of a perfect shot. You saw a dawning realization. Her value here wasn’t conditional, wasn’t hidden. It was essential and celebrated, along with her past relationships.

She saw you looking at her with a smile, and the corner of her own mouth twitched upwards. Then she turned to Garcia.

Without hesitation, in front of you, Mills, Zhang, and everyone, she reached up, cupped Garcia’s face, and pulled her into a deep, affirming kiss. It wasn’t passionate like the stolen intimacy you’d witnessed in the apartment, but it still looked like a seal, a public vow of sorts. Garcia melted into it, her hands coming to rest on Vanders’ shoulders, a quiet sigh escaping her.

When they parted, foreheads touching, Vanders’ voice was thick. “Liberating,” she murmured, just for Garcia, but you all heard it. Mills cleared her throat after watching her suppress an thrilled smile, the professional mantle settling back. “Alright, lovebirds. Save it for the victory party.” She turned to you. “We have our team, Sir. Breachers, shooters, mobile reserves in support roles at the rear and medical personnel. We do a final gear check in the Social Area on the lower floor, and then we will be ready to attack within 30 minutes.”

You nodded in approval, noting that the momentum was all but tangible now, a current pulling you all towards combat's threshold. That sniper’s shot had been the period at the end of the preparation sentence. Now, the only thing left was to turn the page.

You looked from Vanders to the horizon where the Vista Nova building stood. A tomb, a location with new resources to claim, and a test.

All they needed to do was succeed in seizing it all.

“Half an hour it is then,” you confirmed, the masterful, Lord Commander's voice from the title you had chosen to claim and wanted to earn in full, coming easier now. “Let’s get ready for battle, people.”

A/N: Thankfully a far quicker update this time. Hope you enjoyed the field test with Vanders, for the action from the mission begins in full moving forward. Thanks for reading; please remember to leave a comment if you can, and until next time.