WARNING THIS STORY INCLUDES SHOOTING AND AN IMPLIED DEATH. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THIS, THEN DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING. [/lawsuit protection]
The Sharpshooter
There is nothing quite like the thrill of the kill. Some people believe so, others do not. However, when you are lying there, feeling the hard, gravel-covered ground underneath you through your thin 100% cotton clothing, you feel something. Deep within you, something smiles as you move slowly, your weapon moving in an arc, the gravel crunching beneath your soon-to-be-aching elbows. Your finger tightens on the trigger as your target rests in the center of your vision, your sights resting on them. This is absolute power. The ability to simply end someone's life, or spare it...The power to bring about the end of years of learning, to plunge people into deep suffering, to make them curse and absolutely despise you.
The shot rings out, waves of sound rippling through the air, and to people's ears. Someone screams, and soon sirens will be heard. A flurry of movement surrounds the area where the man once sat, reading the paper and mulling over his last cup of coffee before returning to work. Now he was sitting, the life drained from his body nearly instantly. His consciousness drained away, years of knowledge and dreams, love, goals and everything. Wiped away instantly. A soul, sent flying upwards towards a Heaven or a Hell, now robbed of mortal remains. The movements feel simple and fluid, easy by now. I've trained for years for this, for the killing of others for money. This man had apparently stumbled upon something he wasn't supposed to find, and had paid for it in blood. His blood, now flowing coolly over the table in front of him, mixing with his lukewarm coffee. The familiar click-clack of the rifle brings me back to reality. A voice crackles over my radio.
“Alright, nice shot. Now, get out of there. Paramedics are here in four, law enforcement in two.” The voice said, speaking quickly but coherently.
“I understand. Moving now.” My reply is measured, steady, even. Devoid of emotion, with only subtle hints to point out my gender. A single, fluid movement and my rifle is on my back. Another soft click and I can leave. I turn on one heel, the momentum of my rifle making is slap against my back as I end the motion and dash forwards, heading towards the door to the roof. I dash into the building, catching the edge of the door with my left hand and pulling it inwards before pulling my arm back to my side. I left the door open, and the elevator on this floor when I came up. However, it appears as if this run wouldn't be as easy as I expected. Two men, both armed and armored, are waiting for me. A shout comes from one, demanding me to surrender.
“Tell your employer that I'm far to maneuverable for him to strike down with cheap parlor tricks.” I say, smirking as I draw my pistol. This illusion of emotion seems to make them hesitate for a moment. A loud crack splits the air, a man is dead. The other retains the vital information, and he falls to a well-placed nonlethal shot.
“Connect! Looks like your employer wants to keep this quiet...We've got law troopers positioned all around the building. You'll need to escape using the rooftops. It looks like these guys are good. They're already moving, and fast. We've got twenty-five guys in the building already. Level five. Out.” My benefactor, to the rescue again. I suppose I owe him my gratitude, especially after this event. I dash down the stairs, grabbing the smooth, cold rail with one hand to swing around the corner. I exert my muscles more, pushing myself forwards with a burst of willpower. A final burst of kinetic energy and I am in the air, smashing through a window. Mere glass, my lightly armored forwards deflect the glass away from me. I hit the ground and roll, coming up into a crouch and sprinting forwards even as my vision sways, my mind almost numbed by the shock. My rifle is gone, the latches released as I jumped through the window. By now, the no-recovery policy hardware had kicked in, reducing it to a pile of molten slag.
“Alright, then. It looks like I'll be taking the main route.” My speech seems to be distant, my habit of thinking aloud resurfacing for a mere moment before I dash forwards again. Several metal structures stick upwards, probably AC units. I pass over them once, and once again become airborne for a moment before hitting the top of one, stepping forwards and jumping to the next.
“Stop right there! Give yourself up, you are surrounded!” A voice shouts. Sharp cracks split the air, and a bullet hole appears to my left and right. I push myself up again, and dash to the edge of the building. A leap of a mere five feet- no small accomplishment at this point in time. My body seems to lurch upwards for a moment, and I fall. I take control of myself, pushing down reflex to prepare myself for the shock of landing. I hit the next building hard, hit something soft. The energy of my fall is dispersed, but not lost. Rather than fall forwards, I leap to my feat and make a desperate dash for the next roof. The next building is perhaps ten feet higher than this one, and the window makes a tempting target.
As I accelerate, I grab a sheet of metal up in passing, and dig my fingers into the strap-like strips of the back, pushing myself forwards and into the air. The shattering of glass is like setting off an alarm, and I will doubtlessly draw more of my pursuers here, but it does not matter. I change my position slightly, and the metal sheet hits the ground first. My hands now free, I roll forwards and jump to my feet, my muscles alive and buzzing with energy. It has been quite some time since I've gotten this kind of exercise, and it shows. Normally, I could have shot down the stairs by now, but I pause for a moment before dashing to the next level. A few moments of rest here and there will keep my muscles from giving out, but not from delivering messages of pain to me, once the chase really starts.
“Alright, they're still coming, maybe thirty of them left chasing you-we've staged a few robberies here and there to draw some of them away. If you can get to St. Crown's, you'll be in the clear.” The all-too-familiar voice of my benefactor, once again telling me where to go. However, St. Crown's was three blocks away, and the buildings here were far larger. Anyways, the law enforcement units would probably be deploying units to guard against my movements there. So, I will have to resort to a new plan.
The offices rush by in a blur of shouting and rustling papers, groaning chairs, gasps of surprise and screams of terror. Apparently I was already on the news. My employer had released a brief description, and my appearance wasn't the kind you could easily blend into the crowd with. My hair is a dark purple color, running down to my mid-back. My eyes were of a matching color, and my benefactor often told me that my creators must have had a sense of fashion. I wore simple clothing, light but stiff leather arm-guards for my forearms, a light blue jacket over a simple white logo-sporting T-shirt and a pair of tight-fitting jeans. My jacket could get caught in doorways or protruding objects, or be grabbed, and I was trained to be able to slip out of it in an instant, without even breaking a stride to do so. The rest of my attire was either tight-fitting or without much to grab, making me more difficult to catch. Not by much, but every bit helped. Just as the small amount of weight I wasn't carrying now, due to my not bringing more than two clips for my pistol.
Another sharp crack, becoming familiar now. This was followed by three more. I had overestimated the complexity of the building, and an armed man stood before me. He looked to be a normal employee, brandishing his weapon with fear and anxiety all over his face, his posture...this was an amateur, just barely trained in how to defend himself. I ended his life with a thought. The trigger provided so little resistance to my movement it was as if it wasn't there. The man fell backwards, and I hopped over him, running into the hall to my right as an elevator full of more armed assailants came to destroy me. I knelt down for a moment, and took the man's weapon. As I turned around the corner, I blindly fired three shots towards the elevator, taking down one and wounding another.
I knew, however, that more were coming. I had to find a way out of the building, and fast. I bring up a mental map of the building and the surrounding area, and almost instantly decide upon where to go.
“The subway?! Are you insane?! You can’t go down there!” As if he had read my mind, my benefactor contacts me. But it is too late. The building is swarming with law enforcements officers and I don’t have enough bullets to fight them off. Even if I did, by the time I had cleared a path to escape the building would be surrounded by military units. Heavily armed and armored soldiers are beyond my level of expertise. I continue to descend, nearly tripping several times as my muscles begin to complain.
The subway level is a mere three floors away now, and I can hear gunshots from above me-probably about eight floors away. I keep running, hoping to escape the men pursuing me. As I round another corner, I realize I am too far from the rail to swing around it. Stopping would mean death, and so would letting myself slam into the wall. So I speed up again, and jump up, twisting. My feet hit the wall hard, and I kick off with most of my momentum still available. I go flying forwards, scrambling to get back my balance before I crash onto the floor. I manage to do so just as I hit the bottom step, and swing myself around the rail to sprint down the next flight.
“Stop! Stop!” Someone shouts off in the distance, several flights above me. I pay them no heed, turning to my right and sprinting down the landing, slowing only to shut off the lights. I would be long gone by the time whoever was chasing me was able to find the light switch and turn it on. Still, I feel adrenaline pumping through me as I run along the edge of the tracks, ready to jump down into the lower area if anyone enters the landing. The subway schedule I saw earlier reports no subways heading through here for several hours, so the tracks should be safe.
“There she is! Fire!” A voice, far closer than the one I heard before, shouts. I just barely manage to hurl myself onto the tracks as the air erupts with the sound of bullets being sent flying through the air towards me. At least three weapons are firing, all of them automatic.
“It’s a trap! There are soldiers all over the subway! Get out now-a train’s coming!” My benefactor’s voice is saturated with urgency, and I can feel the tracks rattling as a train approaches from behind me. I pull out my pistol and run up a small flight of stairs set into the side of the ditch holding the tracks, ready to fire on anyone nearby. I see the soldiers and their commander turning towards me, and I empty my clip at them, bringing down the commander and one other soldier as I do so.
“You little [expletive]! I’ll kill you!” One of them shouts, letting a stream of bullets fly at me. The other checks the vitals of the two men I killed before doing the same. The concrete at my feet begins to split and crack, bullets smashing into the surface. I dive down into the tracks, coming up and hitting both men with shots to the head.
“What are you doing now? There’s still-No more time, dammit! You’ve got to get to the van ASAP!” The connection is cut just as my benefactor stops speaking. The train is almost here and I somehow remain calm as I climb up out of the tracks. I get up onto the platform and leap upwards just as the train passes. As my head hits the metal of the train, I black out.
Coding the title was not fun.
