Supernova

Chapter 2: Mission Impossible

Gravel snapped and popped under the car wheels. Michael still had his sniper rifle in its case in the trunk of his car. The familiarity of the description began to ring in his brain, making him think... who was it actually?

Michael was near his destination. This little.... town out here didn't look the most accepting. That was fine by Michael. He was going to do his job and get out of here, never to return.

The dirt gradually began to stop popping underneath his wheels as he pulled into an abandoned hotel. He parked the car in the yard, near the empty pool so people wouldn't see it.

Michael got out of the vehicle, shutting the door quietly and then grabbing the sniper from the trunk. After he retrieved it, he began to head for a stairwell, which lead to the roof of the hotels. It'd be a perfect place to sit, considering it was an even distance from the building he was suppose to be watching.

The only noise was coyotes yipping in the distance, wind blowing through the sand and weeds, ATV's and dirt bike engines humming, and his footsteps slowly making their way up the metal stairs. The shoulder strap from the sniper dug into Michael's shoulder. It was a little difficult to get up the stairs, a heavy gun weighing one side down and an injured arm in a sling.

Once he reached the top, he entered a stealthy crouching position, which was not as sneaky since he was in a teal polo shirt, white and blue shorts, and yellow flip flops. If someone saw him, they could probably identify him.

"Dave said it's an alcohol store..." Michael laid down on the roof's edge, laying the sniper down next to him, and gazed out over the small town of Sandy Shores. He looked around but only spotted one building that somewhat looked like an alcohol store. Figuring it was the only building that was somewhat matching the description Dave gave him, he picked up the sniper and aimed it at the store.

He dialed in the distance and situated to get comfortable, to wait. The description was burning in the back of his head, way too familiar for him to merely forget. It couldn't be.... no, that wasn't possible.

"Keep it together, Mikey." Michael whispered to himself, biting his lip gently as he stared at the doors of the liquor store. There were figures moving around inside, making him a little uneasy.

"Goddamn it, Ron! You always fuck everything up!" A familiar voice shouted in the distance, barely audible by Michael. "You just costed us thousands of dollars!"

Two figures busted out through the door, one ahead of the other. They both fit the description pretty close. As Michael aimed his target at the one named 'Ron', he decided that he wasn't the right one due to his nervous stance and the way he rubbed his hands together. He wouldn't be the type to assault officers.

He moved his gun to the other one, having to look twice through the scope to make sure he wasn't mistaking.

Michael knew deep in his heart that that guy was his old friend that he abandoned nearly ten years ago.

"Trevor, I'm really sorry! Wasn't aware of my mistake!" Ron nervously rubbed his hands together, cowering as the other one stopped cold in his tracks.

"Trevor fucking Phillips." Michael gasped, his finger dancing on the trigger. He would miss... but if Trevor found out he was still alive, he was screwed big time.

Instead of taking the shot, Michael crawled back from the ledge and grabbed his phone, fumbling it around in one free hand and managed to dial Dave Norton. Once it rang a few times, a voice came over the phone.

"Hello?"

"Dave, it's Michael. What the fuck! You said you didn't know who the suspect was!" Michael quietly growled into the phone.