The Lonewolf

“I know. That’s what I could never understand about snipers… I
mean, you lay hidden, see a head close in the reticule from hundreds
of meters and then blow it to pieces. Do you at least feel something
when you see them dying?”
“Yes,” Seargent Danny says as he reloads his Dragunov, listening to the
bolt clicking back to position as if it was a sophisticated musical
instrument. “I do feel something.”
“And what would that be?”
“Recoil.”