Here guys hold this for me for now
1500
With a choked breath to catch his composure steadily leaving him, he sprinted up the concrete stairs of that building’s fire escape, taking the ledges twice at a time underneath his stretched step. His gloved hands sliding against the railings to stabilize himself as he pulled his weight around the corner once more. Beneath him, his ragged shoes sliding out from underneath him, hardly more than a second to catch himself from tumbling onto the rough finishing of those floorings before he was tackling the proceeding flight of stairs. Two more flights to go in what little time he had left over for him to use. While time was racing against him as he tilted his chin up to keep the target of the emergency exit in his line of sight.
1000 meters
Against his back, the heavy hardcase for a guitar slammed against his spine as he ascended the stairwell. The padded straps digging without mercy into the crux of his shoulders, pinching his skin down against the collar flaps of the thick jacket he wore. The weight almost unbearable against his strained muscles as he huffed out breaths in time to his scratchy heartbeat. The last few steps he needed to acscend slipping out and vanishing behind him as he finally reached the emergency exit and slammed his shoulder into the door. The stubborn doorway flinging open in kindness to his plea. The crisp evening twilight touching into his cheeks and the empty rooftop meeting his line of sight as he hustled to the flat edge awaiting for his arrival.
He dropped to his knee by the edge, rushing to sling the guitar case off his shoulder and set it on the ground in front of him. Taking care to not scrape off the countless stickers he slapped onto the hardcase. Undoing the silver latches to throw the lid back.
The pitch blacked out sniper’s rifle greeting him where it laid in the padding a guitar should have occupied.
500 meters, 5 minutes
Scope fixed down, magazine inserted, bipod extended, check.
He slipped the dense earmuffs kept in the case over his head, before he dropped himself to his stomach. A wide base in his legs to eat the brunt of the recoil, flat feet against the concrete for more strength combating the pressure he would absorb and to steady his shot. His opposite hand clutching his bicep to support the back of the precision rifle up. The same posture every time. Consistent positioning every time. The bipod stand set on the slight ledge of the rooftop as he estimated the distance to the building adjacent. The bolt fought him tugging back, immediately giving way to his hands with a click as the new round entered the chamber. Prepared to be used as soon as his target approached.
That painted black weapon and the charm he attached to the stock an extension of his arms. His hands. His steady heartbeat pumping calm inside of his chest. A balance kept between consistency behind the stock in the pocket of his shoulder and the harmony of his gloved finger waiting atop the resistant trigger. His eyes, closing gently.
100 meters, 1 minute
And opening again to stare down the tunnel vision of his rifle’s sight. Pressed close to the eyepiece that held him steady. The reticle pointing to what waited beyond.
The private office space behind the glass, and the doors of the balcony he concentrated on. One chance. One shot to get this right. He couldn’t fuck this up. One chance, one shot, and ten minutes afterward to flee the scene once the shot was heard.
50 meters
Behind the glass windows, figures strolling together walked closer to the doors of the balcony.
He clutched his bicep harder. The action adjusting the sights down to track the head of the identified man. Though he wished to pull the trigger, knowing not to shoot through the glass.
10 meters
He waited.
Slowly, releasing his breath until his lungs were empty.
Onto the balcony, the man stepped outside.
0
His finger pulled the trigger.
▄︻デâ•â•â”一 BANGá°.áŸËŽËŠË—
I’ve actually had this idea on my mind since the teasers 😬😬
Playlists and Pinterest boards are up!
Have fun
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