@jarvisthelittleandroid
Hot air left the marksman lips, steam forming in thin air in the cold night. His right eye pressed against the aim of his rifle, steady fingers against the trigger while his whole body was tense in one position...tense enough to keep him in place but loose enough in case he had to run or abort the mission. The target walking back and forth, not knowing their horrible fate that was written on stone. The clock ticking, Severing wetted his lips and then there was a shot...but his fingers hadn't move. Fuck. He looked around, where did it come from? Next building...someone just ran out like a scared cat. Fuck! Moran packed up his weapon, the target was dead so he had to move. "Hey!" He called out, stupid movement? Of course, he had to be as quiet as a whisper but now... "Hey, you!" Tensed jaw, feet moving with catlike skill and he jumped from one building to another. Where was the bastard? Again, a gentle noise and he redirectioned his steps, running faster...faster...get him! "Wait!"










