Chapter 1: Heartland March

A pair of cold, calculating, and piercing blue eyes gazed out over the frozen landscape, ignoring the bite of cold air throughout his thick uniform. He was crouching and remaining motionless as snow billowed past his face mask, chilling his already cold gaze. He was concealed from all angles, not because he was hiding behind a bush or tree, but from his snow patterned camouflage apparel. The only thing not covered in this white fabric was a very small portion on his face; a small slit in the face mask that revealed his shining eyes. He noted and categorized everything within sight, and anything that changed, making very small subtle motions to widen his view around him. So far he hadn't spotted a single living being or wildlife, but he didn't calm the alarm racing through his mind, rather than embraced it. He was in unfamiliar terrain, though it had the charistics of where he had previously been; it was nowhere like he had been before. Sound was blocked out except for the sound of rushing wind that whipped past his face, and he was buffeted from behind as the gale's shifted direction, as if trying to make a pitiful attempt to knock the man down or force him to move. His eyes darted to the side, and kept glaring in that direction, but soon they shifted back forward, and he tilted his head forward and let out an inaudible sigh, issuing a small and discreet puff of fog from the mouth portion of his mask.

Without a sound, and with almost a ghost like fluidity, he was standing up, and looked around very slowly as he lowered his sniper to allow more mobility and visual of his surroundings. At his hip and under a fold of more white fabric, lay his standard issue M9 semi-auto pistol with a silencer further down his body, and resting underneath another pocket of cloth, and directly above his snow white boots, rested a seven inch combat knife. He was a trained killer, lethal, stealthy, and most of all, professional when it came to any situation; even when his life rested on a thin line of luck and deception. He always placed his mission above everything else short of survival in extreme conditions such as the one he was in, even self-comfort and basic necessities were put second to the missions he was assigned. His current mission was running smoothly without even a hitch, and he had been making his way deeper in the maw of the beast with every passing second. Whilst it was rare for him to be assigned a task such as assassination, it was of vital importance than he is placed on this mission from his success rate and high tendency to complete tasks deemed impossible and/or suicidal. His heart was beating strongly, and firmly, and only a pair of super strong ears or sensory equipment would be able to detect his pulse through all his clothing.

Even with his current clothing, which was rated to stay comfortable and well insulated, it was only able to do so at temperatures all the way down to negative twenty degree's Fahrenheit. Unfortunately for his comfort and well-being, the current temperature was dancing between negative forty degree's, with another twenty from wind chill. He may put his mission first, but he knew the risks of not completing his mission soon; he wasn't sure how much his body could handle from sub-solid freezing temperatures at night again. With his situation growing grimmer by the hour, the enemy government had begun to send out helicopters to scan the perimeter the closer he got to his target, and he wasn't too keep on attempting to shoot a pilot on the third plane of focus.

Without even a whisper or a puff of breath, the sole assassin was on the move, running across the open field in front of him, always keeping light on his feet while slowly breathing in and out. His heart only rose a few BPM, but that was only due to his extreme conditioning that had shaped him into the soldier he is now. The only thing that showed his movement was the faint shadow that played behind him on the crisp sparkling snow. With every step he took, an indention was created, but was almost immediately being covered once more with the snow from the incoming blizzard. The winds had picked up once more, placing even more emphasis on getting to the edge of the forest, and finishing his mission with a single bullet. While he wore almost nothing with pockets, to avoid pockets of heat forming and showing up on heat display units the enemy most likely had; he still carried fifteen rounds for his sniper, and another fifty for his pistol. His pistol was loaded with ten bullets in its magazine, with his five reserve magazines placed along his legs, and his sniper rounds were placed in pouches concealed on his chest. Each sniper magazine held five rounds, so he had a total of seventeen left, having used three to kill a patrol not that long ago.

Voices sounded ahead, and the assassin stopped in his tracks and got down low while raising his sniper to assess an approaching threat. While he was limited to his own weapons, he was confiscating whatever was deemed useful from the bodies of the dead enemy, and so far, had come up with valuable Intel. Names, dates, personnel count, along with a whole wealth of troop patrols had been gathered from the officer of the last patrol he had killed. Just as the patrol rounded a bend further down the path, the assassin tensed as he saw the dog that was accompanied by four men. He slowly covered his scope to avoid any unwanted attention, but if the dog detected him, he was going to have to act quickly, lest his mission become compromised… or became a failure entirely.

The patrol was now just passing him, and if he were to stand up, he would've been several paces away from being able to pet the dog that was now looking around and sniffing the ground. The soldiers all kept walking, and the one even tried to pull the dog along. It worked, up until the wind shifted directions, and the dog bristled as it growled fiercely in the assassins' direction. Without any hesitation, the assassin uncovered his sniper, aimed towards the dog, and pulled the trigger. A loud whisper of air shot out, and the dog's head became a bloody mess of blood and gore, but before it hit the ground, two of the soldiers had been downed as well. The soldiers began to retaliate, but even their own special training wasn't well enough to prepare them with enough time. The assassin slid his pistol out of his hidden pocket and took aim as quickly as he could at the other soldier while walking forward. He blasted seven bullets into his chest with pinpoint accuracy and shattering his ballistics armor, along with puncturing his left lung and shattering a disk in his spine. He turned and shot the remaining clip into the other soldier, but it was too late, he had already activated and shouted into his radio in the foreign language. The assassin ran forward and tackled the remaining soldier, and ripped his knife from near his boot and slashed it across his current target's throat. The blood that splattered the ground was of no concern, but the dropped AK-74 was, along with all the clips from his fallen comrades.

Yelling was heard from the radio that had been thrown during the tackle with the now deceased soldier, and the assassin ran back and slung his sniper across his back and stowed his pistol in its proper place. If it wasn't for the urgency of his situation and the sound of incoming aircraft, then he would've cleaned his knife before he slid it into its sheath, but that wasn't to be. Giving the bodies a quick look revealed none of them were high ranking, meaning no valuable Intel would be gained from any of their possessions. He stopped and grabbed a grenade from one of the bodies, and as he took off in the direction of his primary priority target, the ground around him began to explode as artillery began to rain from the sky in a deadly barrage.

Sprinting as snow exploded all around him, the wind had since died down, along with the snow storm that had been billowing for the beginning of the day. Time was running out, the window for success was dangerously closing, and the retaliation that was sure to follow was just as well growing in size the deeper he got close to the mighty beasts heart. He was now breathing at the amount a fit civilian jogger would be, and his heart rate was now reaching seventy BPM instead of the usual thirty.

In another part of Siberia, the Russian rebel that had plagued surrounding nations was pacing nervously as his army mobilized. He was so close to toppling the Russian government he could almost taste it, but without his leadership, his rebel army and rogue mercenaries would be crushed before they could begin their regime. He walked over to a desk and reached a sweaty and slightly shaking hand under it, and as he fumbled about for two objects, someone knocked heavily on the door and opened it too fast for their own good. The startled rebel leader ripped the old trench gun from its place and aimed it at his subordinate and cocked the gun all in a single motion, but as soon as he noticed the uniform and shocked face, he instantly became enraged instead of frightened. He stood up straight with an intimidating growl and said menacingly in a deep voice, "You knock, and then wait for a reply. What news do you have to report?"

"Uh, uh… um… S-Sir, y-your helicopter h-has arrived and is awaiting your arrival." The young lad was thoroughly scared out of his mind as he did anything to look only at his leaders eyes, and not at the scars that ran over his features like some demented clown artist had drawn on it. The leader reached under the desk and carefully removed a picture of his family from a strip of tape, and then stormed towards the doorway, pushing past the lad with the amount of force a grown ape would use on a chimp. Though scared and annoyed at his leaders rash and rude treatment of him, he let out a relieved sigh from his lips before he walked away from the room as well.

Back outside the base, and exiting the forests edge came the lone prowling assassin, having lost his current tail, but was treading along the line of acquiring another one. With his mission success being placed on the line, he was rushing as quietly as he could to the area he had seen a helicopter land. All the others had been flying out in search of him and the phantom army they probably suspected, yet this single troop transport helicopter had flown in the opposite directions as the others. The troopers reasoning was simple, the helicopter was returning to fill up with more troops, or it was coming back to pick up the rebel General that had plagued the Russian Federation and surrounding countries. The assassin came to a road, and glancing in both directions, he bolted across it, drawing closer to his next and hopefully last destination before he retreated to the extraction zone.

The snow had begun to pick up and billow about from the sudden gust of air, and snow began to fall from the sky in small torrents once again. The sniper assassin rolled behind a few stray boxes as a transport truck rumbled by loaded down with troops eager for a fight. That was his first mistake, wearing bright white camouflage armor beside tan crates made him stand out, and just as he was about to move out, a barrage of bullets hammered into the crate above his head. Flinching and quick reaction saved him, but then came his second mistake; he unpinned and flung the captured grenade into the back of the truck.

Right as the soldier's located said grenade, the explosion killed them all instantly, along with consuming the trucks fuel, only adding to the growing smoke cloud and heat wave. Almost all the snow in the general area was melted from the blast of heat, but it was only as the assassin stood up that he felt the stabbing pain in his legs and back; the concussive force had slammed him into the crates. After he was fully up, he got a look at a helicopter flying away, with his target in the back watching the lone assassin. Just as before, his mission took priority, and he aimed his stolen weapon up at the helicopter and released all the ammo in a single firing, but his training enabled him to actually hit his target; even with the great distance. It wasn't a lethal shot, but without medical treatment, he would surely succumb to the wound.

While the helicopter receded into the distance with its severely injured passenger, the assassin began to run off towards the forest, but then came his third and final mistake as a soldier to the United States. He emerged into an area with almost no coverage, and before he could turn back, several soldiers came out from behind him, and he slowly backed away. A highly accented voice sounded through a speaker somewhere, and it said, "HALT! You have caused us mor' than enough trouble American… make anoth'r move and yer brains will join de snow!"

The air began to hum, and the air seemed to literally resonate with power and energy as the assassin spun in a circle, doing his best to find an escape, but only found himself entirely surrounded. He hung his head in defeat, for he was encircled by soldiers, and now three helicopters that had joined the gathering. He knew what was going to happen next as the chain guns began to heat up and fill the air with their whirring, along with the now cheering soldiers. The chain guns flashed, and the ground began to light up around his feet, and as the snow kicked up, a bright flash filled the air around him…

A.N.: Hello everyone, and welcome to my new story. I was only experimenting with this writing style for this chapter only, after this one, I will return to Point Of View(P.O.V.) for my next chapter. As for now, I'm sure you will all accept this chapter for how it was. Next chapter, slightly damned universe will be introduced…

Disclaimer: I do not own any current or future content of Sdamned. All rights and ownership belongs to Chu, or Raizy, depending on what he wishes to be addressed as mostly.