27 September 2012
The wind seemed remarkably still that evening. All he could hear was the whistle of nightbirds, and the occasional blare of a horn in the distance. Few people were still out at this time of evening. They were either business people returning from another long day at the office, or drunkards stumbling home from the local.
He clicked the safety off. He was in a prone position, his left hand supporting the barrel, and the right on the trigger, and his eye planted into the 32x zoom sight. A cap shielded his other eye, giving him perfect clearance in the shot.
Yamato sighed. He was going to get laid tonight as well. It turned out Crystal was more than just a call girl; she was through and through his type of girl: bubbly, cute, remarkably quick-witted, and dealt in the same sort of business as him.
Oh, didn't you already guess by now? Yamato is a bounty killer, and one of the best at it. Rarely does he miss on the first attempt, and never seems to leave a trace when it involves direct contact with the contract. In fact, he'd only missed his target once, and that was because the bastard was too cautious with his soup.
Yamato smirked at the thought. 'That freaking poison cost a damn fortune, too!'
But now, here, all of that didn't seem to matter. What DID matter however was the case of making sure there was no wind disturbance whatsoever.
The target was an old business man named Desmond Quarantine, who had decided to get too involved in business that wasn't his. It didn't really matter to Yamato how or what the contract had done. All that mattered to him was that he got the money he deserved. All eighty grand of it.
Yamato contemplated this as his eyes wandered around, removing himself from the sight. How much IS a human worth? Fifty? Eighty? A hundred grand? Some might even be worth a million. He did realise some footballers were worth some insane amount of cash, like forty-two mil. But those weren't humans. Those were money grabbing trolls. Like that Shrek. He was a damn troll. He had the looks of one.
Yamato closed his eyes for a moment, before he returned them to the sight.
'Quarantine will leave the building between twenty-to and ten-to eleven. There will be construction just above the entrance. Make it seem an accident.' That was the contract given to Yamato earlier that week. It was obvious then that the contracted didn't want to deal with the repercussions of a murder, but instead put it to an 'unfortunate' accident.
He smiled as he heard the beep on his timer go off. Twenty-to had come. "Come on outta that hole, rabbit," he muttered darkly, now fully concentrated in the kill. His sight was trained onto the entrance. The wind was a little to the left. He tightened the silencer on the end of the barrel.
The entrance opened a few minutes later, and an old man walked out, chatting with his colleague.
'Screw it,' he thought, aiming upwards from where they were, and fired at a rope that held a construction platform in the air. The bullet whizzed through the rope, quickly shaking the platform. It swung down, making the tools and metal poles fall down to Quarantine.
His and his colleague's deaths came rather fast, the tools crushing them underneath. Yamato grimaced at the grisly sight, before he stood up, clothed in darkness, and packed away his rifle. He sighed, and then walked away as he heard the first scream, and the sirens in the distance only confirmed his cue to leave...
Still Bullet • Opuss № I