As more voices entered the chatter over the comm lines, Emily leaned out the window to the west, just making out the tall silhouette in the darkness. "Confirmed, Hunter, I see the hill. I'll let you know when I'm in position; I highly recommend nobody do anything stupid until I get up there." There was no road leading up the hill, so Emily left the truck and began trekking through the jungle on foot, her aptly named 'Oh-Shit' pistol drawn.

The sniper managed to reach the hilltop without incident, finding a delightful clearing at the top with a simply decadent view of the town below. As she pulled the tripod from her gear and began to set up the Mr. 187 to fire, she brought a finger up to her earpiece. "Alright, Long Nine is in position. Hunter, you know how to treat a lady - I've got some pretty good angles, should be able to keep a good portion of the bad guys pinned. Unless, y'know, they like running around under sniper fire like a bunch of bloody idiots, which is even better."

With the rifle ready to fire, Emily leaned back and took a sip from her canteen, idly looking into the scope and moving it around to get a view of the village. It was still a bit dark, but she was easily able to make out the shapes of PLM fighters standing guard, chatting, or just moseying around, looking as bored as she felt. Her sights fixed on one, a huge guy with a bandana over his face, rigidly standing a post and watching the dark woods in front of him.

"Bang," she said, finger miming pulling the trigger, and sighed.

Some time passed - seemed Hunter wanted to wait until the sun was high in the sky. Whatever - Emily wouldn't have become one of the best snipers in the SAS if she hadn't grown accustomed to all-consuming tedium and endless waiting. One snooze-fest later, Emily was roused from her stupor by Hunter's voice crackling in her ear, laying out the engagement plan. Silently, Emily raised her hand in an open-close 'talk talk talk' gesture, her eyes rolling back in her head. When he was done, she rolled the kinks out of her shoulder and bent down to sight a target.

Her gaze settled on a tall PLM fighter who was barking orders at some others near the machine gun nests - regrettably, she couldn't see the guys manning the big guns from her position, but she could spook them. "Roger that. I have a mark, get ready to go loud. Standby for kickoff." 

Her finger squeezed the trigger and a great [i]crack[/i] split the air, sending all the birds scattering up to the air. The man dropped to the ground as blood spattered the wall behind him.

The reaction was instantaneous. PLM fighters were leaping behind cover, shouting, grabbing weapons. One dumbass with an AK-47 had chosen to react to this turn of events by wildly spraying fire into the sky in Emily's general direction. Another [i]crack[/i] convinced him to knock it off, just as it convinced half of his brains out of his body.

Emily swept the scope over the scene below, a whole squad of big, tough men cowering behind walls or crates or anything they could find. "Come on, come on..." she breathed, "Somebody stand up."