Even as he subvocalized, Kassian was already in action, moving toward the door.
He glanced quickly behind him.
"Down!" he hissed at Liadov and Rakitin, and swept his arm toward one of the lab tables. "Behind that table, now! Flame Patrol's outside."
The situation called for the exact reversal of a sniper's instinct - instead of cradling his Mosin-Nagant, waiting for the enemy to come to him, holding for the perfect shot, Kassian reached behind him and pulled his Makarov.
Unlike most of his fellow Ocelots, Kassian didn't wear his sidearm at his hip. Long ago, he'd found it to be unfavorable when he positioned himself for sniping. In a crouch, when he was lying in wait, the holster dug into his thigh.
Instead, he wore the handgun at the small of his back, canted to the right, nestled far more comfortably there, close against his spine.
Kassian was no Major Ocelot, but he'd made sure the gun sat just right to facilitate the quickest draw possible.
The long-barreled Mosin-Nagant was simply too impractical for close-quarters fighting. When it came to a situation like this, he had to rely on the handgun.
He knew how he had to handle this. Kassian ducked through the door into the anteroom without hesitation, even though instinct would have him wait. But all the Flame Patrol soldier would need to do is to step through the door, throw grenades, and the resulting hail of shrapnel combined with the compact space would take care of anyone inside.
No. Flame Patrol couldn't be allowed to step foot into the laboratory.
Kassian threw the outer door open and slipped outside, relying on Ocelot, wherever he was, to provide cover.
He swept his gaze, taking in his surroundings instantly.
There, to his left, the beige-jumpsuited Flame Patrol soldier stood just meters away.
"Don't do it! Freeze!" Kassian barked, leveling his gun two-handed, Makarov raised instinctively: not at the soldier's chest, but at his cerebellum.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-06-12 02:37 am (UTC)Even as he subvocalized, Kassian was already in action, moving toward the door.
He glanced quickly behind him.
"Down!" he hissed at Liadov and Rakitin, and swept his arm toward one of the lab tables. "Behind that table, now! Flame Patrol's outside."
The situation called for the exact reversal of a sniper's instinct - instead of cradling his Mosin-Nagant, waiting for the enemy to come to him, holding for the perfect shot, Kassian reached behind him and pulled his Makarov.
Unlike most of his fellow Ocelots, Kassian didn't wear his sidearm at his hip. Long ago, he'd found it to be unfavorable when he positioned himself for sniping. In a crouch, when he was lying in wait, the holster dug into his thigh.
Instead, he wore the handgun at the small of his back, canted to the right, nestled far more comfortably there, close against his spine.
Kassian was no Major Ocelot, but he'd made sure the gun sat just right to facilitate the quickest draw possible.
The long-barreled Mosin-Nagant was simply too impractical for close-quarters fighting. When it came to a situation like this, he had to rely on the handgun.
He knew how he had to handle this. Kassian ducked through the door into the anteroom without hesitation, even though instinct would have him wait. But all the Flame Patrol soldier would need to do is to step through the door, throw grenades, and the resulting hail of shrapnel combined with the compact space would take care of anyone inside.
No. Flame Patrol couldn't be allowed to step foot into the laboratory.
Kassian threw the outer door open and slipped outside, relying on Ocelot, wherever he was, to provide cover.
He swept his gaze, taking in his surroundings instantly.
There, to his left, the beige-jumpsuited Flame Patrol soldier stood just meters away.
"Don't do it! Freeze!" Kassian barked, leveling his gun two-handed, Makarov raised instinctively: not at the soldier's chest, but at his cerebellum.