[color=bc8dbf][u][b]Grave Trench[/b][/u][/color]
[@Oni chan][@Kuroyomihime]

Grave Trench took a brief breath as the system transitioned him to the combat zone.  He hadn't met any of his teammates in person or online before but he knew a couple of their usernames and had looked up a little background on them.  After all, this was a pick-up team of people who didn't meet before the event.  There was a good chance of friendly fire unless somebody could identify who was who.

The Assembly was a dark maze of deep shadows, industrial robotics, an extensive conveyer system and ample warehouse machinery.  He grinned for a moment in the shadow that hid him from view.  It was so half-assed, just like every other game.  No industrial area like this would have escaped being picked clean, inhabited, or destroyed in a real post-apocalyptic environment.  Still, par for the course.  This was his battlefield and he wasn't against simple AI mobs this time.  These were other players.  The smile faded quickly.  He needed to find his teammates.

Just as he was trying to figure out where to begin his search the sound of a bullet splatting against metal pulled his attention.  It had been less than ten meters away, just on the other side of the conveyor belt behind him.

He moved quietly, lowering himself to the floor and peering into the dark from deep within the conveyor belt's shadow, his black attire helping to conceal him and the unusual outline of his P-Bolter disrupting the shape of his body.  A single impact like that probably meant a concealed shooter with a suppressor.  The shot hit the far side of the belt.  The target was there and the shooter was somewhere beyond them in the shadows, probably close.  Grave lined up his rifle and spotted a subtle movement, it was no more than the movement of a deep breath or perhaps the shifting of a boot in preparation for another shot.  It was enough.  He was about to fire.  Then he saw the boots that were even closer, much closer.

This set of boots belonged to the target of the first shot, they had to.  Once he focused on them, he caught a glimpse of what was in the player's hand.  Well, that made his search easier.  The only notable player he could find information on who wielded a sword was also his team leader.  He shifted his attention back to that brief moment and whispered, barely a breath past his lips, but the acoustics in a place like this would carry it far enough.

"Grave Trench, Kiss Shot, possible target 1 O'clock low."

Then he fired, three shots aimed at the feet and a shadow that might be an exposed elbow.  He couldn't see the head of the shooter from his position, his angle was too low.  But, then again, the shooter probably couldn't see him at all.