Elias adjusted his windage. The wind was a fickle thing in the ruins, swirling between the hollowed-out buildings like a trapped spirit. Click. The safety was off.
He lay prone on the rusted skeleton of a skyscraper, his rifle—a modified Long-Walk .50 —resting on a sandbag of pulverized concrete. Through the thermal scope, the world was a ghost-map of blues and grays. He was waiting for the heat. The Dawn: Sniper’s Way...
The Dawn wasn't just a time of day anymore. It was a deadline. The Objective Elias adjusted his windage
As the sun began to bleed over the horizon—a sickly, neon orange filtered through the radioactive atmosphere—the heavy blast doors of the Citadel groaned open. Vane stepped out, his silver armor reflecting the first rays of the Dawn. He was a god of the New Order, confident in his invincibility. The safety was off