[b]Monday, April 4 2022 -- 0440 hours
68 Lexington Avenue, Manhattan
New York Army National Guard
1st Battalion, 69th Infantry[/b]

Arriving at the gate of NYARNG, Manhattan, [url=https://i.imgur.com/lK6w9nx.jpg?1]Rebecca "Becky" Roytecamp[/url] leaned over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She was in the best shape of her 24 years of life, running a dozen marathons a year when her schedule allowed for it. But running the streets of Manhattan in the dark with a full pack and weapon had been a test even for her excellent state of fitness.

The Guardsmen on the other side of the closed and locked gate had already been on alert because of the power outage and mayhem erupting in the streets. Seeing a stranger in full military garb carrying a sniper rifle only made them more anxious; one unslung his rifle while the other pulled his sidearm, challenging her.  She identified herself by rank, rating, and service.

"Air Force?" the pistol wielding soldier questioned. "You're in the wrong place I think."

"I'm supposed to be in Berlin," she snapped back, standing tall but keeping her arms casually out to the side. "I was supposed to ship out last week but I had family who tested positive for Covid."

"Why are you here?" the soldier inquired. 

"I have no where better to be," Becky responded. Her answer was pretty much what another woman on the other side of Manhattan had been thinking five hours earlier. She couldn't know it now, but eventually she and Beverly would be making their acquaintance soon enough. "Maybe you can put me to use?"

The soldier instinctively reached for his radio, only to remember that it was dead. He sent the second man toward the office, then opened the gate, demanding, "Hand over the rifle ... until you're cleared to have it back."

Becky did as told, then raised her jacket to show the 9mm strapped to her waist. The soldier took that, too. From the building behind him, his guard partner called, "[i]Bring her in. The Sergeant Major wants to see her![/i]"

She shed her pack in the office and gratefully accepted and downed a 16-ounce bottle of water in a single act of gulping. It would be almost an hour before she actually saw the highest-ranking Officer on the grounds at the time. Sergeant Major James Jackson was a [i]get to the heart of the matter[/i] kind of guy, and followed his [i]modus operandi[/i] with Becky.

"Some asshole is shooting at people from the Flatiron Building, 23rd and 5th," the Officer said. Then, more to himself than to Becky, he muttered, "Fucking sniper in Manhattan. As if regular ol' pricks during a blackout aren't enough." He looked up to Becky, then to her gun, which the Guardsman still had. "You know how to use that I'm presuming."

"Absolutely, sir," Becky said with confidence. "You get me close enough to see him ... hell, you get me close enough to [i]assume[/i] where he is--"

"And you don't have any problem with this assignment," he cut in, clarifying, "I mean taking this guy out."

"No, sir," she responded without hesitation. "Won't be my first kill, sir."

The Sergeant Major studied Becky a moment, then looked to the Guardsman who'd brought her in. He ordered, "Get her anything she needs. Then, get her there and take this fucker down. Dismissed."

Forty minutes later, Becky and a Squad of 8 Guardsmen were in [url=https://www.google.com/maps/place/Flatiron+Building/@40.7416754,-73.9887219,288m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m13!1m7!3m6!1s0x89c259a740b708cd:0x8f63e00c51bbd20d!2s68+Lexington+Ave,+New+York,+NY+10010!3b1!8m2!3d40.7413011!4d-73.9842013!3m4!1s0x89c259a3f71c1f67:0xde2a6125ed704926!8m2!3d40.7410605!4d-73.9896986]Madison Square Park[/url], weaving their way carefully through the now-leafless deciduous trees.  All about them, they discovered the sniper's victims and those who were either rendering first aid or simply trying to hide under the cover of cars, fountains, tree trunks, and more. 

While most of the Guardsmen did what they could do to help the civilians, three spotters remained close to Becky. It took less than a minute to find the shooter's [i]hide[/i]: he'd smashed out a window on [url=https://www.google.com/maps/@40.7416852,-73.9885918,3a,75y,284.42h,110.12t/data=!3m8!1e1!3m6!1sAF1QipNMB2_XdvtiyYoEDIfaTitgXQMhRtHpgf5zFr-X!2e10!3e11!6shttps:%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipNMB2_XdvtiyYoEDIfaTitgXQMhRtHpgf5zFr-X%3Dw203-h100-k-no-pi0-ya333.56546-ro-0-fo100!7i6144!8i3072]the Flat Iron Building's 12th floor[/url] and was picking off random people from there.

Becky was surprised at the man's position initially; his rifle extended from the window, likely supported by the pane, and the vast majority of his shots -- 30+ since coming into hearing range -- were for the most part only chipping concrete walkways or spitting bark off the trunks of trees. She realized that he likely wasn't a trained sniper but instead was just a nut with a gun. She set herself, considered the conditions -- wind, angle of shot, distance, and more -- calmed her body for the shot, and took it.

A moment later, the rifle tilted forward, dangled a moment, then fell from the window to violently disassemble when it reached the sidewalk below. Beside her, one of the spotters -- obviously impressed -- said with delight, "[i]Hit! Target down![/i]"

The Squad leader, a Sergeant, led half his men to the Flat Iron, where they found NYPD officers tending to one of their own; when they'd first heard by word of mouth about the sniper, they'd attempted to deal with him, only to set off a simple tripwire IED in the hallway. One Officer had been killed outright; the one here in the lobby would soon die from the ball bearing shrapnel that ripped his legs and right arm apart.

It would be decided that they'd wait for sunrise, an hour and a half from then, before they'd go inside the building. Even so, another IED was accidentally tripped, killing a cop and a soldier and injuring one more of each. Back at the NYARNG building, Becky was congratulated and offered a spot with the Unit. She took it.