Post by corriger on Mar 14, 2012 12:49:40 GMT -5
Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, was untold amounts of devastation. Debris, decay, desolation - the only remnants of what used to be skyscrapers and other such structures that made the place a respectable civilization. Cars and buses were turned on their side or trapped within burning sinkholes, windows were all blown out and scattered shards of glass all over the place, and red-hot infernos ran rampant throughout the ruins. Most people would’ve thought that several natural disasters had run through the city at exactly the same time - that would be the only viable explanation for damage Fairport had suffered...
But the Point Man knew better... he was there for it.
He looked up as a helicopter flew overhead, his lips curling into a near-scowl as the wind from the propellers kicked up dust into his face, forcing him to close his eyes - that, however, was of little concern to him. He should’ve sought some kind of cover; they’d have to have been very inattentive if they failed to spot him in the middle of the barren street. But regardless, the Point Man had simply stood there, watched the aircraft zoom on by as it continued towards its destination: the central tower.
It figures that Armachan would focus upon his destination... At least he knew to expect some serious firepower.
The Point Man looked down, taking a moment to make sure the weapon in his hands was in full functioning order; a G3A3 burst rifle. Three rounds per pull of the trigger, semi-armor piercing, essentially a designated marksman’s choice. After making sure that the rifle was fit for use - though he had checked at least three times by now - he looked ahead and squared his shoulders, before moving forward once again.
He had hoped that he wouldn’t have to come here again, but there was one last thing he needed to do... funny how he always had to clean up his family’s messes...
But the Point Man knew better... he was there for it.
He looked up as a helicopter flew overhead, his lips curling into a near-scowl as the wind from the propellers kicked up dust into his face, forcing him to close his eyes - that, however, was of little concern to him. He should’ve sought some kind of cover; they’d have to have been very inattentive if they failed to spot him in the middle of the barren street. But regardless, the Point Man had simply stood there, watched the aircraft zoom on by as it continued towards its destination: the central tower.
It figures that Armachan would focus upon his destination... At least he knew to expect some serious firepower.
The Point Man looked down, taking a moment to make sure the weapon in his hands was in full functioning order; a G3A3 burst rifle. Three rounds per pull of the trigger, semi-armor piercing, essentially a designated marksman’s choice. After making sure that the rifle was fit for use - though he had checked at least three times by now - he looked ahead and squared his shoulders, before moving forward once again.
He had hoped that he wouldn’t have to come here again, but there was one last thing he needed to do... funny how he always had to clean up his family’s messes...