Snippet #2742232

No matter where she was sent, who sent her, or what she was capable of, recon was recon. A sigh escaped Ayla, although all it served to do was fog up the inside of the rebuilt-yet-again-woman’s helm, and add to her frustration. Huddled high up in a frosted pine under a thermal sheet, spooning a Heavy Coil .50 for three solid days had stretched her patience far too thin. Once famous for these kinds of missions, she know found that the mound of snow that had settled on top of her was a constant reminder of how useless she’d been for the last six hours. Her finger reflexively twitched against the rifle’s trigger.

“Don’t you even.” The deep, static-laced voice of her Ops Intel Commander echoed through her helm’s audio. She had honestly forgotten just how closely they were watching her.

“Trigger discipline, ma’am.” He chided, over the crackling “kksshhhkk” of the com.

Ayla knew better than to trust the feigned humor, or how cheery, and helpful he played himself off as. She couldn’t twitch without him saying something, and that made the usually autonomous agent nervous. She shifted her weight a little, just enough to send the HC50‘s scope dropping in response.

“Thank you ma’am.” kksshhhkk

“Right..” Ayla’s normally elegant voice was lost in pure exasperation.

Ayla pulled back from the scope, and up ended the rifle, letting it come to rest against the her shoulder. As she stared out across the compound she felt absolutely helpless. Hyper-eidetic memory or not, every single stone of that encampment was burned into her mind. Every stretch of foot-carved road, every ramshackle hunter’s hut, to every Elite’s stone town was lodged firmly in place. It was so bad she could pick out every single one of the forty-seven roasting pits they had, and she knew a fair amount of each orc’s daily routines, but it didn’t matter.

She didn’t have a “battle plan”, and she couldn’t move until The Gorgon himself had accepted one.

“This is an arm pump.” She hissed into her com.

“I know you feel that way, but rules are rules.” kksshhhkk

With a disgusted groan she lowered her weapon, and once more got behind the scope. She scanned around the entire structure again, hoping for inspiration to dawn, when the crosshair came to settle on the main gate. As far as Ayla could tell it was how the Orcs here had risen to any form of power. They had started by building a toll gate there, right dead in the middle of the only road leading through the particularly narrow Sheercliff Valley, and it seemed to have allowed them to consolidate. She stared down at the portcullis, a massive, red steel-work grid set into a solid stone recess, with two of the green brutes stood guard at all hours.

It was the only feasible way in, but the Gorgon didn’t care for it due all the defensive turrets. She understood that, but what choice was there? Even before all of her new augments, she could’ve gotten this job done on day one. Facing a serious of risk of a nervous break down if she had to sit there any longer, Ayla rolled the dice.

“I’ve got a plan.” She grunted, to no one in particular.

“Okay, let’s hear it!” kksshhhkk The overly bubbly persona her handler had clearly adopted for sadistic reasons almost made her want to vomit.

“I punch one of the guards, and go in.” The line fell into dead silence immediately, and she couldn’t help but smirk. It was the first time in three days the moron on the other end of her only contact with the outside world didn’t have a sunshine-fueled come back. It felt like a small victory.

“They said you were a tactical genius.” A new voice cut in, one she vaguely recognized through the low quality audio. Gil Isom himself, the mighty Gorgon. “A tactical genuis, specifically. That was the phrase,” he sighed, “Three days unnoticed, and you give me 'I punch the guard’?” His tone was everything except friendly.

“You sent me in alone, you wanted the approach at my discretion.” she said. Ayla wasn’t really good at back-talking superiors, despite wracking up two defections, but playing along was getting her nowhere. She knew her only hope of ever stretching her legs at this point was convincing the overly stoic old man on the other end of the line that this, in fact, was a plan.

“You see, sir, I’m doing exactly that.” she really hoped her bullshitting skills had improved since her last job. “I’ve stared at this cesspit for three friggin’ days straight. I’ve gauged these creatures as best I can, and it is my opinion, in two decades of experience with these situations, that I can handle this with a direct confrontation.” she winced. “Sir.”

The line went dead again, and for three agonizing moments Ayla waited with held breath.

“Clearance granted.” kksshhhkk

Ayla stood up slowly, slinging the rifle over her shoulder, and going over the encampment in her mind. She could recall every inch, every pebble on the road, every snow-heavy tree with sagging branches, all of it. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and melted into a mental vision of the area. Immediately her thoughts began to race, every route, every possible scenario unfolding one after another as fast as possible. She could feel her skin heating up, her eyes racing back, and forth, and although the disconcerting sensation only lasted a few seconds, she hated it.

When she opened her eyes a few seconds later though, everything was different.

She had her plan, she knew the exact place every one of her feet would fall for the next six-thousand, two-hundred, and ninty-one feet. A seemingly vast expanse, it seemed almost a trifle to her already, and a smile crossed her lips as she did the math in her head. It would take her a grand total of eight seconds to get there, to be down the road, and at her target. Every muscle in her body rippled as she turned, and the moment she picked her foot up the hunt was on.

From zero, to five-hundred forty-one in a blink, Ayla took off from the tree like a rocket. Her volatile acceleration generated a massive shower of pink lightning, the sparks instantly setting the tree ablaze. She looked back over her shoulder, and watched, the world moving as if it was soaked in amber to her. She was halfway down the road as the very first ember touched the tree, letting her catch the sizzle right before the flames erupted. A beautiful sight in it’s own way.

Like an arrow she shot down the road, and directly towards the left-most Orc guard. Her fist was cocked back, ready to deliver the world’s fastest sucker punch.