He must run, but he can't. He know, how it always gives him a better chance to spot movements when the target is moving so quick, even under the shades of leaves. He walks in a calm manner, slowly dissapearing into deeper part of the freezing woods, while always letting his back covered by the trees. He place his bet on the falling snow to cover his obvious tracks.
It is not anyone's fault but himself, that he missed the shot. He had a perfect aim, but mountain winds was indecisive most of the time, and this time it decided to punish him for his decision. He had been on his scope for an hour but still it bears more mercy on Ivankov, less on him. He cursed himself every time his feet sink in deeper snow, never has the combination of anxiety and coldness wears him this much. Knowing about the possibility of that they might have the advantage on the terrain, he must make sure that all his years benefit him good, regardless of how deep the snow pits are.
The smoke from the target's base was long gone in the air, and the hole on the fallen tree trunk look so comfortable compared to the long unknown road. He trust his instinct, knowing that it is temporary, but the only sound he could hear in the ocean of trees is the sound of his own footsteps. Good enough for him. His feet beg for a rest. While he lean his back on the crisp surface, the thoughts of home never fail to make his rest more sedating. He really needs it, but he's afraid that he might fall asleep. He admits that he does need some, but he also need to stay alive.
Tightening his hug on his metal comrade, he wonders if the letter he sent had reached Aunt Betty. He promised himself to throw that ugly cunt out when he gets back. She's no good at all, not with kids, not with money, not with cooking. He could take care of the kids better. Audrey had thought her a lot. The sight of her in the kitchen dangling in his mind like the necklace he gave her on her birthday. The necklace is swaying on her neck as she moves from the counter to the sink. He keep staring on her neck while she was busy preparing for lunch. The snow keep on falling on his face, but now he's already thousand miles back in the warm kitchen, under hours of California sun.
It is not anyone's fault but himself, that he missed the shot. He had a perfect aim, but mountain winds was indecisive most of the time, and this time it decided to punish him for his decision. He had been on his scope for an hour but still it bears more mercy on Ivankov, less on him. He cursed himself every time his feet sink in deeper snow, never has the combination of anxiety and coldness wears him this much. Knowing about the possibility of that they might have the advantage on the terrain, he must make sure that all his years benefit him good, regardless of how deep the snow pits are.
The smoke from the target's base was long gone in the air, and the hole on the fallen tree trunk look so comfortable compared to the long unknown road. He trust his instinct, knowing that it is temporary, but the only sound he could hear in the ocean of trees is the sound of his own footsteps. Good enough for him. His feet beg for a rest. While he lean his back on the crisp surface, the thoughts of home never fail to make his rest more sedating. He really needs it, but he's afraid that he might fall asleep. He admits that he does need some, but he also need to stay alive.
Tightening his hug on his metal comrade, he wonders if the letter he sent had reached Aunt Betty. He promised himself to throw that ugly cunt out when he gets back. She's no good at all, not with kids, not with money, not with cooking. He could take care of the kids better. Audrey had thought her a lot. The sight of her in the kitchen dangling in his mind like the necklace he gave her on her birthday. The necklace is swaying on her neck as she moves from the counter to the sink. He keep staring on her neck while she was busy preparing for lunch. The snow keep on falling on his face, but now he's already thousand miles back in the warm kitchen, under hours of California sun.
Snap.
His drowsy circuits works hard to locate the source of what sounds like checkmate.
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