COMMAND://one_shot
One could not see that it was a dragon until they stepped away. Only then, at a distance where all the intricate scenes and details blended into one another, could the bigger picture be observed. Alchemical symbols meshed together to become fangs in a snarling mouth of stars; a moon pocked with impact craters became a wide, staring eye; the woven branches of a summer tree twisted into the horns and spines down the dragon’s neck, merging at the edge of the ribcage with wings comprised of delicate spiders’ webs and broken arrows; jagged mountains and animals’ skulls joined to form a patchwork defense of scales; geometric patterns created thorn-like claws on the ends of crystallized limbs; intense, intricate knot work constituted the tail, which curved out of sight down onto the side of the thigh; a mandala of fire and ancient symbols formed the backdrop of the sun behind the creature, shifting and shimmering with every movement of the tattoo’s owner.
The tattoo was at the moment hidden by layers of clothing. The owner, a lone arkn standing atop a dilapidated high-rise, crouched in the shadows. They wore a dark shirt and pants, with a snug leather vest and a belt holding multiple knives of varying shapes and sizes, all tucked away beneath the cover of a long black coat. A rifle was slung across their back. Copper pipes hissed above their head, capturing the faint neon light of the city below and reflecting it in hues of orange and gold, weakened by the grime that coated the insides of the mountain. Maph’ridome was not a beautiful city, but it was their city. Murder was not a pretty business, but it was their business.
The comm on their right shoulder crackled to life. “Report,” a static-y voice commanded from the other end of the line.
The arkn assassin set down the gun that they were cleaning—a separate gun from the one slung across their back—and lowered their lips to the comm, reaching up to press the button that allowed them to reply. “The target is in my sights,” they murmured, careful to watch their voice despite being the only living thing around for multiple city blocks. “He will be within range shortly.”
The comm went silent for a moment, as if considering what they had said. Then the crackle of static returned and the voice on the other end spoke. “You know what to do. Be back at base by 0400. If you’re not back by then—”
They pressed the button again, cutting off the voice on the other end. “I’ll be back by then.” And they switched the comm off.
They returned to the gun in front of them. With the gentle movements of a mother cradling her newborn son, the arkn screwed on the scope, loaded the clip, and made their final adjustments. Shrugging off their coat, they shifted to lie on their stomach, resting the sniper rifle on the rooftop’s ledge and peering into the scope. The crosshairs seemed to find the target of their own accord, zeroing in on a dark-haired arkn whose face was obscured by a wide-brimmed brown hat. He walked alongside a person wearing a beaked mask and a long hunter’s cloak; they traversed a long, arcing bridge that connected two terraces of the city. The arkn on the rooftop laid their finger on the trigger, taking a deep breath and holding it until the only thing they felt was the heartbeat in their chest. Slowly, they began to exhale.
Where could you possibly be going at such an hour, with a stranger such as that, Father? They mused. Uriel turned and looked in their direction, as if sensing their presence.
One shot to bring about the end of an empire.