His first kill was the last to go so badly. Nerves had got the better of Edwinski and nerves
don't make for good shooting. What
should have been a clean kill was a bloody mess and Edwinski sat over the
unfortunate, his blood-stained shirt sleeves rolled up; and shook
uncontrollably, waiting for the target to bleed out.
The scientist tried to ask Edwinski to finish it. Not that it would’ve done any good as neither
could speak the other's language and the rookie had only been issued with two
rounds, one of which had caused the scene, and he had clean forgotten the
knives concealed on his lower leg and in his jacket pocket. He could only sit in shock at the mistake
made and wait to ensure his mission was ultimately fulfilled. Edwinski had learned the hard way that
practice can't always make perfect. All
the wolves killed in his youth, the perfect scores on the range and the full
marks in role play meant nothing now.
Edwinski knew he would not make the same mistake twice (or once,
officially, as he was already creating a cover story in the back of his
head). He wouldn’t risk himself like
this again; in the approach to every kill from then on Edwinski carried the
scene in his head as a reminder to steady his nerves.
This shot to his ego had hit him hard, though, and Edwinski did not
stop shaking until well after his quarry had ceased to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment