Foster and I neared the place where they were keeping Jagan, I felt like I was a whole different person. I can no longer fault Scarecrow for doing what he does, because, honestly I was enjoying it.
Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't loving the fact that my team, and the man that I may be possibly falling in love with, were in danger. It was the adrenaline. The rush. The anxiety. And the fact that I was feeling pretty B.A. with the weapons I was carrying.
I was confident in my ability. I was sure that I could do my job and not choke. It was a quick transition, but one that was needed. And very quick, with this situation. I had just killed a man because it was necessary. Both for mine and SCIT's safety. And I would and could and probably will do it again.
I had been mulling things over in my head, and reached and voiced my conclusion. Of COURSE Dani was Foster's daughter! Nothing else explains it all! Foster sure didn't seem disappointed by it, that's for sure. I could tell that he was filled with and ready to execute some major revenge.
He went on, and I was up and looking for Jagan. I neared the place where they were keeping him, but before I could get in, I heard a gun shot, and Foster yelled over the mic to me: "Beth! Take out that last sniper Use the rifle, do it now!"
I had to move, and fast. Someone had fired that shot, and someone might be hurt or dead. I ran back out the corridor I had entered from, and spied around at the buildings around me. There was the place where one sniper had been that Foster and taken care of, and there was the man that I'd killed. I searched with my eyes, begging my mind to think like Scarecrow. If those two had been placed here, then with the strategic and placing set with view into the building where Harry was... the other sniper must be... there.
I saw him, he hadn't worried about his cover much at this moment, because he wasn't expecting much threat. He had been covered by the other two, and he was signaled to aim inside Harry's building. Unfortunately, the instant I saw him, he saw me. We both aimed simultaneously, and fired at just the same moment. I double tapped, and he flew back, his chest bursting into red blood. I felt the hot shells ejected from the rifle smack into my upper thigh. Burned myself, great. I ran across the street and entered the building where the sniper was, but he was already there, stumbling down the steps, holding the wound in his chest. I was surprised he'd made it this far. Blood streaked along the wall where he supported himself. He'd pulled out a knife, trying to attack me. Slitted me across the throat just like the scar that lined Steve's neck.
I grabbed the weapon and slit his throat, dispatching him quickly. He fell on me and I found that I wasn't able to support him. Blood poured down my leg, but when I looked... it wasn't his. The burning that I'd initially thought to be the remnants of the bullets I'd fired had been something else. He had shot me.
"Aww, crap, Foster, I've been hit," I muttered weakly into the mic. I heard maniacal screaming and gunshots in return over the pickup. Wonder if he even heard me at all. I stumbled, holding my leg, but I fell before I could get very far. I tried to drag myself out of the building, but failed. I cursed in frustration.
I could hear the noise from here. I knew it: something was going down.
All hell had broken loose.