Survival is Crucial

Turbo Killer

The whistling of a bullet, the crashing of wood -- splinters flew into the air the sound of a thud could be heard as the bullet punched through the Asian man's chest, throwing him into a wall and cracking it, pieces of it falling apart as the Asian man laid limply on the wall, his chest blown open, saliva clouded with blood as his eyes cartoonishly popped out of his head. A variety of curse words engulfed the room, Nixon running to the corner of the room, Yua pressed against his chest, Tyche moving away from the windows, the Manager doing the same, et cetera. Nobody there was able to know what he was trying to point to, index finger still raised as his body flopped to the floor. The Manager hissed through gritted teeth, "Fuck... never expected that." The Manager glanced over to Marshall before moving further into the room, avoiding the windows. "Now... here's the question," Hands raised, "How did the sniper see through those windows."

The Manager pointed to the wooden window panels, no light coming in as they were both closed, and had no glass showing the outside, nor the inside. A voice went through Tyche's head, "Don't worry, look at the trajectory." Tyche raised an eyebrow, glancing over to the Asian man's body before looking over to the Manager.

"What was that man's name?" Tyche pointed to the Asian man.

"Kobe Tadamasa." The Manager said, nodding at the end of his sentence.

Tyche looked back over to the body as the voice from before came back in, "Look at the trajectory, the hole in the window and remember how he flew into the wall, remember how his chest opened, et cetera." Tyche grabbed Kobe's arm, dragging him away from the window's view, kneeling next to his body. "Dig through his ribcage, find the bullet." Tyche nodded, looking over to the others in the room.

"Do any of you guys have any gloves?"

Justin pulled out two gloves and threw them across the groom, Tyche managing to grab them in mid-air. Tyche put on the gloves and immediately began digging into Kobe's ribcage. The sound of flesh and bone popping around Tyche's hands could be heard, pools of blood spurting out of veins that he would accidentally push here and then until finding the bullet. A voice chimed in, "Higher caliber, could explain why his body reacted the way it did. What caliber is it?"

Another voice came in, "This isn't a normal .50 cal round, it's from an old weapon called the .50 BMG. The bullet is just as old. It was a bit hard to piece it together due to the flowering." Tyche looked to the bullet as it flowered at the end. "I think the age is the reason as to why the bullet reacted the way it did. If it was a normal .50 cal bullet, it'd have blown him to pieces and just gone through him, but instead... no... it could also have something to do with the state of the window." Tyche glanced at the window, "Probably messed with the bullet's speed some, but not enough to not kill someone. Back on topic. Look back to the window, remember the environment."

There weren't many buildings in the direction of the windows and what was there was an open market street. A few miles from there is one long building that would've been the perfect area to use as a sniper's nest, Tyche can't seem to remember what type of building it was though. Another voice came in, "I think it was a church, way too big, that's what they used." Tyche could hear another gunshot in the distance. "Do you remember?"

Remember what? Tyche thought to himself.

"Have you heard about those particular instances that have been happening lately thought to be involved with the Escravos?"

"Yeah..." Tyche said aloud.

"Don't worry, look out the window." Tyche walked to the window, throwing them open. Everyone yelled for him to move away but... nothing happened. Tyche leaned out the window some, looking to the church across the way. "He could've hit from a farther distance, but that church's tower is in the way. Back on topic, you remember those events, right? The ones where people were killing themselves with a bag over their head after performing what would be a hit. Do you remember this?"

"Yeah... I do." Tyche mumbled.

"I believe that is what had just happened. Something didn't want him to point to whoever was in this room. You already know who."

Tyche pointed to the church, "The shot came from there."

"How do you know that?" Marshall asked.

"Doesn't matter, I'll just confirm it myself." Tyche spun on his heel, walking out from the building and running towards the church. After walking for a few minutes, he entered the church, ran up a flight of stairs, pushing his way through nuns and churchgoers before reaching the top of it.

The voice from before rung through his head, "See." A body, a bag over their head, killing themselves with a pistol smaller than their hand, blood seeping through and pooling under their head. "Look at their weapon, check the gun residue." Tyche kneeled, "See, it's a .50 BMG. I'm going, to be honest with you, it shouldn't be possible to use a weapon like this, grab the barrel." Tyche held the weapon in his hand, feeling the weight. It looked like an array of pipes hastily put together, rust lining the barrel as the scope is old and worn, the glass is dirty and beaten down, some fungi lining the edges. "It's cool if you comment, 'gross', I'd feel the same."

Tyche unloaded the gun, lining the bullets onto a piece of cloth that the dead man had, wrapping it up, and leaving with the rifle at his waist. He came back to the room, caked in sweat as the rifle jingles and clanks, throwing it in the middle of the room, making everyone flinch within it. Tyche rolled out the cloth, pointing to the bullets. ".50 caliber, see?" He pointed in the direction of the church, "I was right."