Joseph+Bowman

__**Term One, Piece One **__ __**MAGS, 2015 AD **__ A head wrapped in a white cloth popped up like a mouse from behind a sideways slab of concrete. The twilight was as yellow as bile, and the air smelt of chemicals and smoke. The head was allowed a moment unnoticed before a gas-masked man in a building opposite set his gun upon the Spartan sill of a shattered window. There was a muted //puk// and a metallic //ping// as the headband-wearing youth ducked for cover. All that stood between the hunter and his game was an empty set of green asphalt courts. His head wound was worsening again, and as violent red blood began to stain the dressing once more, he pulled an antique revolver out of his sock. ‘Thanks, Mr. Burden,’ he whispered to himself with some semblance of cheer, and clumsily began to load the dilapidated weapon. The masked man checked his gun for any inconsistencies in its preparation. Its brutal frame was sleek and shiny, and bore a deadly black barrel. He pulled a walkie-talkie out of his utility belt. ‘ Operative Omega Scouting Mission complete. Squad, move in. It’s just a waiting game until it gets into their lungs. Phase One of Operation Alberton complete.’