Martin inhaled sharply on his cigarette, and slowly blew out the smoke, watching it mingle with the dusty air of the building. He looked over at the sniper rifle leaning against the wall next to him. In the bright sunlight of the morning, it seemed more like a fellow soldier was there instead of his weapon. Reaching for the gun, Martin checked it again and made sure that he had enough spare armor-piercing ammo.

Jonathan Martin was a sniper, first class. He was normally attached with the Martian Banshee squad that he had joined five years ago. That had been only a couple of weeks after his father and little brother were killed by Mishiman troops. His mother was never found.

That's why this particular mission filled him with particular satisfaction. His job was to assassinate Lord Toranaga, the Shogun for the Mishiman armed forces in this sector. Intel had managed to find out that Toranaga, notorious in his complete lack of trust of being in enclosed vehicles, would be with an armored column coming through this blasted area. A point group would first come through, and should they give no message, Toranaga and the other troops would be coming through as well.

Martin smiled, ‘And I'll be waiting.'

He looked around at the blown away building he was in. The surrounding area was nothing but ruins. Gutted buildings, factories long forgotten, and the ground strewn with broken concrete and rubble. The area was a wasteland, nothing bigger than a boulder in sight for a mile in any direction. If only there had been an open spot looking into the distance, he would have used that. Instead, he was on the remnants of the tenth floor of a gutted office building. Looking down into a plaza that the column would have to pass through. It was the perfect spot because the column would not be able to determine where the first shot came from.

Martin checked his watch. Another hour until the point men came through.

He sighed long and hard, hating the long him. That was what the worst thing was about the job, the wait. It could stretch out to seem like an eternity with nothing but your memories. And for Martin, memories were none to friendly.

Memories of receiving the news that his father and brother were dead. How he had to be physically restrained from killing himself right there and then. Of the funeral, the flag of Capitol being draped across his father's coffin and his leaving rose for his brother.

But the memories of his mother were worse, because he had no closure. He had no idea if she was dead, alive, kidnapped, or enslaved. Martin never knew whether the next corner he turned, his mother would be standing there. For five long years, he had been searching crowds for her honey-blond hair. Whenever their squad had R&R in a new port of call, Martin would pour through the telephone listings, hoping against hope that he'd see her name.

For most it was a tragic life, but for Martin it was the only way he could have himself carry on. That, and his hatred for Mishima.

Martin shook his head, and inhaled his cigarette again.

_________________________________________________________________

An hour and a half later, five Mishiman troops started making their way through the destroyed town. Martin already had his rifle set up on its bipod and was prepared to shot, but wasn't going to. He wasn't sure if he could pick all of them off in time, and if even one of them got a communication of trouble off, then Toranaga would take a different route.

Through his high-powered scope, he could see the unease on the faces of the Samurai. Each one of them knew how dangerous buildings like these could be. Martin chuckled to himself quietly.

‘For once, the pointmen are going to be the last to be shot at,' Martin mused.

He simply watched the Samurai approach and enter the plaza. Patiently, he scanned each target, noting who had long range communicators so he would know who to shoot first if necessary. The troopers co h the plaza, eyes scanning the windows of the buildings, looking for any enemy troops.

Smirking, Martin whispered quietly to himself, "Good luck."

All at once, a Samurai fell to the ground, a bullet hole in the side of the head.

Martin started at what happened, sure that he hadn't fired the shot. The samurai immediately scrambled, heading for cover.

Another small gunshot was heard and another samurai fell to the ground, his head bleeding from a bullet wound behind his ear.

Now Martin was scanning the buildings trying to figure out where the shots were coming from. The Samurai collectively opened fire on the buildings surrounding the plaza. Out of the corner of his eye, Martin spied one of the Mishiman's long range attenna rising from his backpack. He quickly targeted the samurai and fired, the shot taking him in the neck and throwing the Mishiman forward.

The Samurai turned and began shooting at Martin's building. He hit the ground as bullets rained in through the windows, shattering whatever clouded glass remained. Martin waited until the firing died down before he cautiously looked out the window again.

The troopers were reloading their guns, and he could see another trying to get their communicator working. Martin gritted his teeth, knowing that if he started shooting, they would pinpoint his position and he would be through.

He heard a small pop and saw something large and black fly towards the Mishimans from an upper floor of a building straight across from his. The object soared into the middle of the troopers and exploded with a bright light. Martin saw a very small shockwave erupt from the center, engulf all of the Samurai, and then pull them back into the epicenter. He could hear the screaming of Samurai before them and a considerable amount of rubble disappeared into thin air. Martin went pale as he had heard of some of these from Intel, but nothing had been confirmed.

An implosion grenade. And no Corporation had technology evice.

But the Dark Legion did.

Martin started scanning the building across from him desperately now, and through a window on the tenth floor, he saw it. A small humanoid covered in black, draped in a green cloak, and wearing a bizarre mask on its face.

A Callistonian Sundancer.

Martin aimed and fired a shot at it, but the Sundancer ducked back behind cover, the bullet crashing into the wall behind it. Coming around the wall, it snap shot at Martin. He hit the ground as a small crash occurred from above him, and glass sprinkled down over his body. Cursing, Martin crawled toward the window on the far end, cutting his elbows on the broken rubble and glass. He wished he had his armor on right now, but it was not very useful in sniping missions.

‘I've learned my lesson,' thought Martin, as he put the butt of the rifle in his armpit and came up and put the barrel out the window.

He spotted the Callistonian fixing something to its rifle. Instantly, he knew what it was. Firing a snapshot, the bullet missed the Sundancer by a fraction of an inch, smashing into the concrete beside it. The Sundancer didn't miss a beat as it locked the grenade into place and aimed. Martin turned and began running for the hole he climbed in through.

The loud pop was heard again and the grenade streaked into the room, exploding in the center. Martin felt the shockwave come out and start pulling in. Rubble scuttled across the floor and the floor even began pulling away in places. He reached the hole and as he began falling through, he stopped in mid-air. The grenade was overcoming gravity and pulling him back in. Desperately grabbing an iron retaining bar, Martin held on as the pull became intense. At the point when he felt his arms would rip off, the pull weakened and quit. Martin fell through the hole as gravity took over again.

He hit the ground with a loud crash, and put his hand to the small of his back, groaning as he stood up. He hobbled over to the window as he looked out, get a bead on the sniper. The Callistonian was nowhere in sight.

‘Sneaky bastard probably on another floor now,' he thought.

Something moved down below, and Martin trained his gun. He saw the Sundancer walk out of the bottom of the building and start heading toward his.

Smiling, he aimed and shot at the Sundancer. The bullet hit the side of its mask, shattering the left part and sending cracks down the middle of it. The Callistonian jumped back into the building instantly, hiding himself from view.

Martin cursed himself for missing what should have been an easy shot.

That's when he heard the creaking. He looked above and saw the ceiling straining to hold its weight, weakened after the damage done by the implosion grenade. Scrambling, Martin tried to get out of the way, but he was too late.

The ceiling crashed down, sending rubble and more crashing into the next floor. The entire wall facing the plaza crumbled, taking part of the floor with it. In a matter of seconds, Martin was now facing outside with no cover, his gun four feet away from him, his leg caught underneath Cardinal knows how much concrete and a sniper waiting to finish him.

Long minutes passed as he kept trying to pull his legs out from the concrete. Both of them were obviously broken, and were refusing to be unearthed from the rubble.

‘Why doesn't he finish me off,' wondered Martin.

In response he heard something clatter behind him. He couldn't turn to see what it was, but he didn't have to. The only thing it could be was the Sundancer.

It strode into the room, gun at the ready. After a few moments, Martin realized that since he wasn't dead, the Callistonian couldn't see him. He tried to slow down his heart and not making any sounds to give himself away.

"You can't win, human."

Martin stiffened, thinking the Sundancer had seen him. He relaxed, thinking that the Sundancer was merely trying to flush him out.

"Your race has no hope, why bother resis eature, mingling in the air like the smoke from his cigarette hours ago.

"We can use someone resourceful like you," it offered.

Martin's eyebrows lowered at this, knowing that he couldn't listen to such lies from a servant of the Lord of Spite.

"You kill each other, yet say you fight for humanity. You lie to each other, than lay down your lives for strangers. Your actions are pointless," the Callistonian reasoned.

"You are a true professional. How many lives have you taken and shattered little man," the creature asked. "What is your hypocritical life based on? Is this what you fight for?"

Silence filled the room like a warm blanket. No response to the Sundancer.

"Divided you fall, human. Your race will never unify. Come with us, we will let your hatred make you powerful."

The creature waited long minutes for a reply, receiving none. It slowly backed up and left the room.

_________________________________________________________________

Hours passed as Martin kept trying to get purchase on the rubble to pull himself out. The Sundancer had left and by now, could be anywhere among the buildings.

Martin stopped, panting from exertion and pain, and pulled a cigarette pack from his left breast pocket. Looking in, he saw that his only cigarette had been broken in half. Chuckling to himself, he threw the pack away and let his torso lie back down on the ground. The waiting was always the worst.

Suddenly a noise roused him. It was a loud mechanical sound of gyros hissing and hydraulics pumping. Looking out from the ruins of the wall and floor, Martin saw the column start heading into the plaza.

Four Mekas walked at the front and rear corners. The rear Mekas had huge Demonfang Rocket Cannons on their shoulders and the front two had shotguns and powered sledge hammers. About 100 Samurai marched in formation, as well as 30 Hatamoto in the middle. In the very center walked the armored form of Shogun Toranaga.

Martin could only watch as target so close, perfect for shooting, except that his gun was not in his hands.

Suddenly, he saw it.

The Callistonian was back to its original position, aiming its rifle at Toranaga. Words of the Sundancer seemed to remerge from the air.

‘Divided you fall.'

Martin started to lunge for his rifle, savagely cutting his legs more, yet still it remained out of reach. Fighting with the last parts of his energy, he crawled inches at a time, seemingly pulling his legs out of its sockets. His vision became blurry from the pain responding from his feet, yet still, he pulled forward. With a final reach he lashed his hand out towards the sniper rifle.

His fingers knocked against it for a second, sending it spinning across the floor a good ten feet.

Martin cried to himself, his mind cracking from the futility and hopelessness of his efforts. Looking up, he could see that the Sundancer had spotted him. Locking its red eyes on him, Martin could feel the Callistonian smiling. He averted his gaze, not being able to look at it. His eyes fell on Lord Toranaga.
He felt time slow to a stop. Each step of a Mishiman took days. A breath stretched out years and a gaze lasted forever. Martin saw his father walking alongside Toranaga and his brother as well. The both looked up and smiled at him, waving. Martin could do nothing but weep as he watched his mother walk from behind Toranaga. She was not smiling though, her look was of pity and sorrow for her lost son.

The son who had not died.

Martin clenched his eyes shut nervously and opened them. The apparitions had vanished, but the column was still there marching forward. Toranaga was proudly keeping in stride, his stone face making him seem as solid as a statue.

‘What will his son be if he dies?'

Martin glanced up at the Callistonian. It was watching the column intensely, waiting for the perfect moment.

He breathed in slowly, feeling the air fill his lungs, and exhaled letting the air slip from between his lips. Time had slowed to a stop, and he c ould hear things he never noticed before and see things passed over in haste. Frowning, he finally took in a huge breath.

"SNIPER!!!"

The Sundancer's head snapped up unnaturally, completely surprised by Martin. It fired a single shot, before it could stop itself. The front rear Meka's pinpointed the Sundancer and fired their Demonfang rockets into the Callistonian's position, killing it instantly.

_________________________________________________________________

Three Hatamoto had just finished clearing away the concrete when Toranaga reached the floor. The Capitolian had already been long dead, the bullet of the Sundancer deep in his skull. Toranaga wondered how such a hated enemy like a soldier of Capitol, could find honor in his dying moments.

Kneeling down, he untied his sash and removed one of his swords from his belts. The Hatamoto watched in confusion as Toranaga placed the sword in the hands of the dead Banshee.

"Death is fleeting, but the life you gave me is your honor for all time. Rest well."