The Usual Client

A helicopter that resembled a modernized version of a Bell UH-1 Iroquois with a paint job of a dull grey, along with the bright white lettering of GREY ROCK BASIN PMC on the tail boom, struggled to maintain its hovering maneuver as it approached a clearing within a pine forest nestled deep within the Central Dividing Mountains of Redar. The helicopter finally set down in the clearing with a clunk that resulted the further discomfort of its occupants. The whine and whirl of the motor and other various moving components slowed to a gradual stillness over the course of a few minutes. It was then the passenger door slid open revealing a large bird like creature.
Leaping from the dark shadows from within the seemingly safety of the chopper’s cabin, a quadruped gryphon landed with a thud. Snow white feathers and fur with spots of grey and black covered the gryphon where it was visible under the numerous bags and various equipment that was tethered to its hide. It looked ahead over a black glossy beak with intelligent eyes. Without bothering to look back at the helicopter’s crew, it proceeded over the snow-laden ground and into the forest.
The wind continued to blow with the same intensity as it did when the helicopter was landing, however the gryphon persistent unheeded by the elements. To the skies it was apparent that the clouds were confident on delivering another fresh layer of snow to the mountainous valley before the next morning. The gryphon ignored such signs as he began up a steep inclined slope. He caught sight of a cave over looking the landing. If his memory served him correctly, which he had no doubt it did, it was his destination.
A long hour passed before finally reaching the mouth of the cave. Nothing but darkness and unpredictable surroundings lay before him. He stopped and listened. A low subtle heavy breathing could be heard from deep within the recesses of the cavern. He was at his intended objective. Taking a few cautious steps within, and out of the howling wind, something moved.
The scratching of something hard across stone was unmistakable followed by a heavy footstep.
“Stop,” ordered the creature in the darkness still yet to be seen. Its voice was of male origin and its tone could be identified as irritated, yet not angry.
The gryphon followed the command without question as another heavy footstep followed. Finally coming into the light stood a reptilian beast far taller than the gryphon within the cave. A set of emerald eyes focused down a long brown muzzle and at the seemingly feeble raptor. Dual horns protruded upward and slightly curved backward atop the giant lizard’s head. This beast was undoubtedly the creatures of myth and legend, dragons; or at least that’s what the gryphon had thought until now.
“Very punctual,” the dragon spoke again. “I am Elder Ganrow.” With a scarred paw, he reached into an unseen bag or pouch and tossed forward a metal tablet. The block of iron clattered and echoed as it came to a stop before the gryphon. With a cocked head, he studied the inscription that lined the object. A fierce gryphon’s face made up the majority of the iron’s surface with an unexpected amount of detail. Below the illustration were several runes that the observing gryphon could not identify. He turned his attention back to the dragon.
“General Yeltson,” the gryphon spoke for the first time. It was tone of steel and uncaring. “He is the leader of the outcast nation very close to these mountains. Because of his importance amongst this nation I must ask, why do you want him executed?”
The dragon growled and a row of gleaming razor teeth showed. “He trespasses on my clan’s land. He makes the mountain unstable with his artificial cave. He pollutes our home and slaughters our prey. He cannot be allowed live.”
It was one of the more ‘noble’ assignments that have been recommended to the raptor that now stood before the all but angry dragon. However he failed to see how killing this leader would bring about an end to this dragon’s problems. He did not pursue his own reasoning. With a dip of his head that was recognized as a nod, he confirmed that he had accepted the assignment.
The dragon reached back into the shadows of the cave again and pulled something else forward. A leather bag rolled into light from the darkness as the rope that kept it close came undone. A series of rocks and minerals spilled from the opening. Even within the dull and meager light that the sinking sun provided, spots of reflecting gold showed its grandeur and wealth.
“This shall be more than enough for you and your clan,” Ganrow spoke again while motioning to the valuable minerals that lay before him and indeed it was.
The gryphon eyed the bag and its contents. Despite this dragon’s power and supposed knowledge, this must have been the first time he had ever dealt with the technologically advanced race of gryphons that dominated the planet. He, as with most private contractors of the era, only accepted payment after the job was done.
“The G.R.B. representative will take care of this payment,” the gryphon said. “Do you have any more information you would like to provide? Such as the location of this General?”
The dragon raised a scaly paw and with an out stretched talon that pointed to the adjacent mountain of the valley. “Over that mountain you will see his dwellings and his pawns. Do not keep me waiting,” the elder said with a deathly serious tone.
If anything bothered the gryphon, apart with doing business outside of his usual species, it was the order and implied threat that the dragon directed upon him. He had no right to make such a statement, but he held his tongue as he turned to leave. Before exiting the cave, he heard the heavy footsteps of the ancient dragon retreating back into the safety of darkness.
It was impossible to get half way up the mountain that night. Taking refuge in a tree, the gryphon curled up into a tight ball on a thick branch roughly half way up. He clutched at the two packages that irritated with chemical warmth. It was meager compared to the wind and snowfall that happened all around him, but if anything, it kept him alive. It was not be the coldest or most miserable night he had endured, but it was close. A fire could not be afforded. There was and always is the possibility of someone catching sight of the smoke.
His current state did not worry him. It was the lack of the visual and sounds of a helicopter taking off. He did not specifically care for any one of the crew, but they were means of escape if he were to fail at this job. There was also a strong possibility that they took refuge in the cave with the dragon. This made the gryphon shiver. He would not want to spend the night with him or any other member of his race.
With the rising sun, the town became clear. At the base of the mountain rose a multitude of log and wooden buildings surrounded by untamed forest. A river could be seen running on the edge of town and barges, along with other types of water craft, were a common place. While it would have been difficult to tell from a visual, there were subtle signs that a large and perhaps strong military was present.
Leaping from pine tree to pine tree proved to be a challenging, if not an entertaining task. The lone gryphon neared the town after reaching the apex of the mountain. It would be quicker to fly no doubt, but he would have to risk flying below the tree line to avoid being seen by any wandering set of eyes. That proved to be dangerous. He had the scars and synthetic bones in his right wing as a testament to exactly how lethal it can be.
Finally the raptor came to stop at a tree approximately three miles from the town’s center. With the caliber and rifle he was using, shooting this distance would not be much of a problem. He equipped a set of steel claws on each paw to help him grip the bark better of his shooting location. Climbing up to the thinner branches, he stopped and dug in his metal claws before pulling a long barreled rifle from its straps on his chest.
Fifteen minutes passed of adjusting and preparing his rifle before he looked through the scope. The magnification was perfect for this range as the gryphon maneuvered his crosshairs over the various streets and bystanders that clouded the roads with a deadly and experienced grace.
Taking slow and deep breaths, he began his search for General Yeltson. He hated to rely on it, but this job would require more luck than he would have liked. To do this job properly, the gryphon would have stalked his prey carefully. He would watch and document his every move; find out his strengths and weaknesses and exploit them accordingly. All of this would take anywhere from several days to a week. He must have cared for that helicopter crew or he would have followed his orthodox methods.
While searching for this General, he felt his mind wander back to his original days within the special airborne forces of the Union Military. With a grieving sigh, he remembered how he could not support his family under the salary he was provided with which lead him to join the Private Military Company of Grey Rock Basin which was based in the Southwestern corner of the Eastern State. With a grimace, the gryphon pulled his thoughts away from his memories and back to the task at hand. He could not afford to be sidetracked for this job.
Evening came just as expected. The sniper sat in his perch dutifully without so much as moving an inch. Only patrols of soldiers and an unexpected amount of mining equipment and workers were all that he saw. Nightfall was approaching fast and he would be forced to brace against whatever else Mother Nature tormented him with. However an unexpected surge of people and soldiers gathered at the town center. At around 6 PM and within the courtyard of large multistoried brick building, soldiers gathered in a block of indistinguishable ranks with civilian onlookers on the streets. They were all waiting for something as if searching for what was happening behind the closed doors of the second story balcony.
The double doors swung open to reveal the target with outstretched arms to address the crowd. The sniper winced. Sniping someone was apart of his job description and it was not the part he had a problem with. It was the civilians and soldiers present to witness the assassination of their leader. He did not dwell on thought for long as he adjusted his cross hairs to compensate for the wind speed and direction along with bullet drop. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger once the target was sighted in.
As addressed before, flying below the tree line is dangerous and can be fatal if flying within enemy territory. The gryphon sniper did not intend to stick around for long however. With a sleek movement, he secured his rifle and pushed off from the tree while extending his wings. He was over the apex of the mountain by nightfall and on his way back to the dragon’s cave by morning.