Clash of the Titans

Night was always utilized to conceal what would go bump in the night. Not many situations would be more appropriate for the cover of darkness. A man sitting cross legged on top of a beat up old convertible automobile with a floating digital display just breathed darkness. But the absence of significant light outside of the digital screen was also a foreshadowing of things to come had these plans had traction earlier.

"I don't suppose I could just find a nuclear power plant and take them all out in one shot?" That voice was being made during a tele-conference. Having a conversation in a junk yard didn't seem all that logical. That was, of course, if one didn't take into account that this particular talk revolved around death, deceit and infiltration.

"Talski, you are to do what you are told. Nothing further," was the response from a shadowy figure on the display screen.

The man, cloaked in an armor unknown to this region, frowned. When his facial pattern changed a slight sound of mechanical clicks and gears could lightly be heard by anyone nearby. "Understood General. Put Karesh on. I need advice," was the request.

Another individual appeared on the display. "Allah salam alaikum," was the greeting. The man bowed. "Walakam Salam. Long time no see Karesh," was the return salutation.This person reached to their side and presented a busted array of wires and small hunk of metal. "I need for you to help me with something. What do I do to weaponize this? It seems impossible,"

"So, am I to understand that these are nothing more than Christmas ornaments that rival that of two left shoes in terms of usefulness?" That question was being posed to the other party on the display screen. There appeared to be a level of dissatisfaction that wouldn't be difficult to detect in the voice. A sigh came from the man. He stood up off of the car's hood. He folded his arms. The display screen appeared to be more swiveled and free standing than what it originally appeared given the fact that it remained in front of him as he began to take some steps forward.

"I'm afraid so Lieutenant. Improvised explosive devices are easy to make and have a devastating pay load but they don't always pan out from time to time," the other explained.

Another sigh came. "Well that, like the Americans would say, sucks monkey butt," was his response. Laughter erupted from the other side. The two men talking to this mechanized humanoid appeared to find humor in what was just conveyed. Whomever this person was they certainly lacked knowledge of the United States and certainly shouldn't quit their day job in exchange for a career in satire. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. How long were you in jail again?" The man's eyebrow quirked. "Hard to remember. Some parts of my memories were scattered when the operation was done. I'd say ten years give or take a few months. I never told you about that though. Someone filled you in?" he asked. The other party shook their head. "No, no, no. I just know a man who hasn't heard a good stand up act in a while. You do know that Vanilla Ice isn't in rotation, right?"

Another frown came from the man. "Oh, yes, hilarious. Just hilarious you are. Just wait till I get back home. You'll pay for that," the man joked. More laughter came from the other end. "Oh, yeah, what are you going to do? Throw some ice ice on me?" Oh the jokes wouldn't end unless this call ended. "Whatever. Inform operations I'll be reporting in six hours precisely. And I'll have you know that Mr. Ice was a very charming artist," he responded with.

"Yeah, whatever man. Karesh out."

The display disappeared into thin air. The man turned with the reflection of his armor gleaming with the aide of moonlight. Display screens? Advanced armor? Weaponizing commonly found materials? Somebody had a rather large budget and someone obviously was assisting this man with whatever his purpose was. Whom that entity, people or group were exactly would remain a mystery until such information was revealed.

He retrieved a handgun from a side holster attached to his body. The holster itself appeared to be, not strapped to him, but build into his hip as if it were an attachment more so than in a utility belt of sorts. Mechanical clicks and gears turned as he looked up towards the sky. His eyes change from an iced blue to completely clear blue. His mouth opened and from his mouth came sounds that could only be accurately described as the sound made by a computer's speakers when trying to connect to dial up internet connection.

"Scanning, please wait. Scanning, please wait. Scanning, please wait. Scanning, please wait." This guy's voice changed over from a Russian accent to a monotone female's voice. What was this scanning he kept repeating? What could he be scanning for?

Zoric turned his head. He thought he heard talking. If someone were watching him that certainly wasn't good. Secrets were being discussed. Onlookers had to be dealt with swiftly. Oh, but if someone were watching him they were in for quite a surprise. He had the fear that someone may be watching him for a reason but shrugged that off as maybe someone doing it simply for curiosity. The idea that him being watched wasn't too big of a worry once he realized what he was doing. He could eliminate that problem rather quickly. At least from the mid range he could have.

"Scanning. Please wait. Scanning. Ple-" The abrupt stop signaled that either Zoric saw what he was looking for or maybe his voice had gotten tired. The latter was probably unlikely. He reached for his sidearms connected to his hips. Presently on his sides were metal holsters containing two firearms belonging to the Glock category of pistols. His hands rested on the guns. He didn't move another inch for a second or two. His mouth closed and eyes went back to their normal color. A smirk went across his face.

What Zoric was doing was scanning the area for his targets. None such targets were found. Satellite imagery was the tool he reached for with a range booster in tow in order to spot his marks. But in the medium portion of performing this task he actually found that someone was indeed present. It was a faint mark but this wasn't a mistake. Of course equipment malfunction and satellite failure could have misled him. However, like a real soldier, Zoric trusted his equipment. He assumed that his gear would never fail him. He would have to think this way. After all, it was the gear assigned to him that kept him alive thus far with exception of one particular case in a coffee shop.

He cleared his throat. He made sure to speak in a loud voice. "I'd like to play a game. It's called shoot the rat. So, I'll be the gun and whomever you are will be the rat," he announced. Whenever Zoric made a threat, even the smallest of ones, he intended to carry them out with haste. He drew out his pistols and lifted his arms to a horizontal stanch side by side. His feet turned so that he spun in place slowly. He knew exactly where to shoot if he wanted to hit the target. But this was fun for him. He just wanted to see if he could make his onlooker squirm, run or be afraid. His fingers began pulling the separate triggers. Even though he was spinning in place slowly it was still indiscriminate fire.

((OOC: I compensated for that. But with this guy you wouldn't have to have said anything. Like 90% of other military operatives he'll use satellite power. Meaning, if anything is near him he's going to see it. The problem with your guy is that he doesn't necessarily have the same life signatures that normal humans would have. Thus that means Zoric can't pinpoint his exact location. Quite a predicament.))

Now this was where the fun would begin. Zoric knew someone was near him but he didn't expect the onslaught he would receive. The sound of a firearm sounding put him on alert. Like many war veterans diagnosed with post traumatic stress syndrome there was already a heightened level of hypervigiliance that they were accustomed to. The problem with having such a condition was that soldiers are trained to show no fear and even though some still showed said fear those like Zoric bought into their training.

Most times a warhead coming directly at him would have been met with a defensive and then an offensive response. But fire like this, from his experience, was meant to intimidate more so than kill. It was the same as mortals or rocket attacks being used in the mountains of Afghanistan. Many times those attacks didn't kill anyone but were meant to scare the heck out of anyone who witnessed them. Alas, he was wrong. This was meant to kill. Once the first two hit Zoric realized just how serious his assailant really was.

BOOOOOM!

The way that Zoric managed to avoid significant damage would be a miracle to anyone who didn't know what he really was. The first shot actually hit near him and to his left side to be exact. With natural combat instinct and experience with explosives he immediately ducked down. The explosion went up into a V shape like any normal explosion would have. This explained why the automatic response of any soldier to a mortar was to get down as low as possible. Therefore if the warhead didn't land directly on top of said soldier the V shape upwards momentum had a pretty good chance of not harming that soldier. His reflexes were far better than any human's would have been. The mind quickly rearranged his internal nanomachines to his left side and reinforced his armor. This created minimal damage but his synthetic skin had been blown off. Damage was done. There was no way to avoid that. But the second round was met with a flying card to intercept it. Zoric, thinking quicker than he would have when he deployed to combat, launched the vehicle towards the second projectile.

By this time Zoric had less than a second to decide what to do. He shifted his body to the side and took refuge behind a beat up old dump truck. His mind began an instant replay. The first shot was meant to kill or at least he believed it was. The second was meant to finish off the job if the first didn't do it. His mind remembered what happened to the car. It was blown to bits. The first shot didn't hurt him as much as it could have since he got down and reinforced himself. Now it was time to take inventory. He had all of his ammunition. His body was mostly in tact with exception to missing synthetic skin. He looked like an extra out of the movie, "Terminator."

If it was one thing Zoric didn't like it was someone performing a sneak attack on him. Like a person with PTSD he met aggression with even more aggression. The fact that the attack was mostly unsuccessful Zoric believed this bred and showed inexperience. This person wanted to exchange with an Afghanistan war veteran in urban combat? Obviously, this wouldn't be the best place to take this guy on since this was somewhat of his specialty. Wastelands like a dump yard was where Zoric would be at his best. After all, the average Afghan family made a little over two thousand dollars a year. Many places in Afghanistan would've mirrored this sort of scene.

For the most part, with exception to nanomachines, Zoric utilized his human intelligence to thwart the attack. Now it was time to go superhuman. He peeked out from behind his cover with his right eye shining red. He was judging the distance, range and general trajectory of where the rounds came from. Therefore, he could see where the attack came from. He wouldn't even need a satellite for this investigation. He was still under the impression this person tried to kill him. If that were the case it was kill or be killed.

Sure, that attack was smart. It was coordinated and against a normal person it would have worked. To use such force against him obviously meant that someone either anticipated his armor or just believed in utilizing a chain saw to destroy an ant hill. Either way he believed he had psychological advantages. He believed that almost no one would have the kind of experience in this sort of environment to match his own. Over twenty years of military service was what he had backing him.

Now it was time for a counterattack. He holstered his pistols and pulled on the sling connected to his AK-103 rifle. He pulled out a magazine that had colored rounds. Towards the beginning and the end of the magazine were rounds with green colored tips. These were known as tracers. In a nighttime scenario it was a good idea to have tracers to see where your rounds are landing and even temporarily light up an area. In-between those rounds were silver tipped 7.62X39 millimeter rounds. The silver tips were known as armor piercing rounds. Even the strongest metals couldn't withstand a constantly volley of an automatic weapon brandishing these things. He figured these were necessary in case his target was hiding behind vehicles. He wanted his target to believe that the only rounds he had were those that couldn't penetrate armor. Even sophisticated terrorist cells made that mistake.

He brought his aim up towards the sky. He fired a tracer and then moved forward towards another vehicle that happened to be a sports utility vehicle for cover. This strategy was known as stick and move. He fired a shot trying to make his opponent believe he'd be in the same exact position as he was when he pulled the trigger but by moving he'd be in another spot and thus awaiting for his opponent to return fire.

The second Zoric heard a round fired he was already on the move. There was only a few seconds of delay for the next move to be made. Stick and move was an obvious strategy. It was modeled after that of a boxer and no boxer remains in the same place if they were the speedy type. The more rounds were fired the more Zoric believed that his target was playing right into his hands. For starters, the reason why he moved the second he heard fire was to create a disorientation and concealment effect. A moving target was harder to hit than a sitting duck. His body shifted from the front end of the vehicle and then to the side. Once he reached the passenger side door he remained low but darted forward into the cover of yet another vehicle. This time he found refuge on the side door of a small smart car.

"I can't believe I saw the day that I used a freakin' Prius for cover. Guess that makes me a douche. Every Prius owner is a douche..." he thought to himself. Zoric would have thought out loud but was sure to keep those thoughts strictly to his mind only lest he wanted to give away his position.

He would have to get over his obsession. Now he felt like this person, whomever they were, just made a huge mistake. But then it happened. Those bullets created a pyrokinetic effect. "Incendiary rounds? What an idiot..." he thought to himself. Zoric didn't get why this was the strategy. Especially given the fact that explosive rounds didn't work. What was the hope here? Was it to create fire so that a silhouette of Zoric's shadow could be cast? To him that had to the only purpose of this otherwise he didn't get the tactical advantage against someone who already has proven that most rounds won't be that effective against him unless they were armor piercing.

Those rounds that were fired didn't miss though. The ground was set aflame. It just didn't do much against Zoric who was already coming up with a counter measure. Fortunately for him none of these automobiles carried gas and all available fuel had been removed which was what most junk yards was going to do. Not to mention that all he'd have to do was avoid the burning areas and whatever effects that might have been effective weren't going to do much against him. The problem that his opponent was facing was that, thus far, there was nothing thrown at Zoric that he hadn't seen ten times over.

Zoric ripped the hood off of the Prius and placed it on top of the fire at his feet. He pat his feet and legs to put out the fire that was around them. This was a chemical fire. There was no putting it out. The best option was to cover it and hope for the best. His eye went to work trying to figure out where the shots came from. This was where he thought this would finally put an end to this. Firing three rounds in succession left a pretty good chance, that if his target was still in the same position, he could hit that target. But thus far Zoric has already made that mistake. A different approach had to be made.

His right eye shinned blue. The satellite above was being utilized. Zoric's mind went to use the American FBCB2 or Blue Force Tracker system. For every shot fired a pattern was established. It was instant for him. That was where billions of dollars of technology came in handy. Time to act. He came out from behind his cover. There was no more hiding. He was packing armor piercing rounds meaning he could eat through steel with ease. Zoric opened fire and began spraying from the point where this person first fired upon him until the last point and even beyond that point. It was a straight horizontal pattern.

That person hadn't seen Zoric's armor piercing rounds. Natural instinct was to remain in cover in the same position with the reliance that someone wasn't already packing such a thing or at least that's what he believed. If any round hit this person they'd have to be made of something harder than steel to not have a hole in them and even then those rounds were no joke. The movement he made from behind the vehicle and the firing took less than a second to initiate. Literally, he came from behind cover and just started firing since he already knew where he'd have to shoot. He figured nobody was faster than a bullet. If that person was standing he couldn't see how they were not dead meat.

This whole time Zoric wanted this person to believe that they had the upper hand. But he played two pieces on the chess board or so he believed. One, he keep this person at a distance whereas their weaponry, as far as he knew, wasn't as effective since most incendiary rounds were not going to be as effective from longer distances and neither was explosive rounds since the further away an explosive had to travel the lesser effective it would have been. As far as his knowledge went those sorts of rounds were considered to be the shotgun blasts of their class. The closer the better. By keeping such a distance or at least a distance whereas even his right eye couldn't get a full picture of a person outside of a satellite he thought this person put themselves at a distance. Couple all of this with the fact that his weapon, unlike their's thus far, was useful at both mid and long range. His finger kept locked down on that trigger.