Prey was the other guy. This was a high stakes game where the loser paid with his life. Bodies already littered the valley, grotesque colors painting their clothes.

Cory didn’t plan on joining them. He was part of a team, an elite unit that practiced gunning down men with no thought to the consequences. He knew his team was out there. Reliable. Ready. They were camouflaged, hidden in trees, tucked in between rocks and laying in thick grasses.

An objective existed but that was neither here nor there. His team was here because they liked dropping people. And they dropped a lot of people.

He pursed his lips and mimicked the call of a lark. An answering call returned from his left, which meant the next target had been seen there.

He swept his sniper rifle in that direction and waited for visual confirmation before clicking into the next magnification.

The target’s head swelled.

Cory exhaled and squeezed.

The M-107 made a soft exasperated sound.

The target went down in a burst of neon yellow paint.