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He began to squint. Taking his eye off the scope for a moment, he took a Drink from his canteen. He checked his watch. Five past eight P.M. Five minutes until he arrived. Craning his head around, he surveyed the area for threats. Nothing. Peeking through his Rifle's scope, he took a deep breath, exhaled, and Fired. He saw The general's Arm be ripped off in a Blast of blood and gore. He crawled backwards, until he was out of sight of the area. He heard screams and shouting, and smiled. He grabbed his old backpack, his .308 rifle, and headed away, toward his safehouse. His name was Sev, and he was aa Ex-desert ranger. Then again, there weren't any non-ex rangers anymore. But he, unlike those traitors, refused to join the New california republic. He was instatly a outlaw, and had a large bounty on his head.