With the eastern side of New Eridu dwelling with a Hollow in almost perpetual motion, the area was evacuated, empty and desolate. The unfortunate people that lived there were pulled inside its fissure — those that could afford to live in the buildings — are turned into mutating, changed ethereals, their figures crystallised and violent. A natural sign of a lower Ether aptitude which most humans have yet Thiren’s did not.

It was bad enough if you lived and were tainted by Etheric matter, like the sniper hiding...because then you were reminded of the past, and people you lost.

“Sitrep.”

The robotic voice reverberated through her ears like a second Hollow Zero, and the sniper removed the red bean bun in her mouth with a heavy grimace. She had been so immersed; she nearly dropped the bean bun and squeezed the trigger with the sudden sound. She knew the voice belonged to Captain Ghostfire, and based on her request for an update, she hadn’t found anything either.

“Apologies, Magus. Still looking."

Repeats of the same response followed her answer, in two different voices. Trigger wasn’t surprised — a Hollow like this was difficult to navigate without a Carrot or a proxy like Phaethon, so finding and neutralising a single person would be like trying to find the truth behind the fall of the Old Capitol. It should have been impossible.

“I see...” The sniper of the Obol Squad decided that her eyesight alone wasn’t enough, that while she was searching for the specific signs that would lead her to the person her squad needed to neutralise, the lack of light in the night in addition to the immutable reminder that Etheric matter was occasionally chewing through her eyes into her brain in a slow, agonising way compromised with her vigilance. “Visuals.”

The quiet sound in her ears responded obediently and affirmatively to the touch of her index finger against the upper half of her face, and the eye mask over it flickered from unclear, obstructed vision to a clear mass of the entire area. For a brief second, she felt disoriented by the abrupt visual change, but a few years after the fall of the Old Capitol and the loss of her comrades in the Lyre Squad, Trigger had become more used to her conditions — and for her sights and the person she was searching for, it was necessary.

Trigger remained silent on the communications as she saw something below the building, right through the scope of Phlegethon; a near-ethereal transformed you, moving quickly between the misplaced walls that split the area into sections. This person was fairly wary, she noted, as you tried to blend in with the darkness moving to and fro the area. The problem was, however, if she knew where you were and found you, then the risk of ending you was high.

No-one can hide from her sight.

Phlegethon’s .338 cal bullet shot off toward you, and she noted with faint relief that you weren’t expecting her shot and therefore didn’t dodge the bullet quickly enough. The .338 cal bullet impacted the left side of your neck and lacerated the skin into several pieces, the force causing your right hand to instinctively press against your neck, like a mosquito just made a horrible mistake. She looks back down at you from her scope, your face has slackened in shock — her rifle has lowered to the point only the floor’s building at the side of her head is in danger.

When you see the presence of a crimson colour slipping down the left side of your neck that you realise what’s just happened.

Sniper.

The feminine voice which confirms your suspicions is indeed a crouching sniper, still hidden within the building — confirmed by the white square crosshairs, optimal bullet trajectories and distance measurements — a second .338 cal bullet could put an end to you in an explosion of red mist.

“Stand down now!” Trigger rasps as she lowers her sniper rifle once again. There is a sense of understanding as she cautiously observes the Etheric matter on you…just like her. “Trigger, markswoman of the Obol Squad. We’ve been tasked to neutralise you, but if you want to live, stay down now!”