A Bullet to the Heart, ₗₑₑ Fₑₗᵢₓ

⇝ ⇝ ⇝ Prologue

⇝ ⇝ ⇝ "Steeleye!"

I turned to the booming voice long into the horizon line. A shadow of muscle and power demanded my attention. Despite the everglow of the sunset behind him, I could tell the man was my boss from the limp in his step. My boss summoned power through respect and admiration.

All the soldiers under him had heard his stories. Some heroic, where he saved civilians, and more. Some tragic, where he had failed his job with leftover marks and scars on his skin. He had dangerous jobs, ones that required the utmost attention and dexterity. I had yet to live up to him. He had a many decades on me but he was a hero in my eyes.

My name wasn't actually 'Steeleye', it was a code name. It was a necessity to have when employed under a branch of government officials. I had made a name for myself with my insanely accurate shots. My eyesight was my strongest suit, I had never failed to miss my target. Catching clues to targets' whereabouts and more was even easier. I also had grey eyes, steely enough to intimidate my boss when we first met.

I patiently sat by as my boss walked up to me. We were back on base and most of the squad were gearing up to head into New York from London. It was quite the flight and I was glad I wasn't assigned there with the rest of them. I still had work to do in London so I would remain here. My whereabouts were known about all the time - it's what makes our squad diverse and reliable. It's what also makes desertion impossible, no matter how hard the job gets, you can't run away from it.

"Right now, your job is to remain here." My squadron leader announced, "Finish it up then you'll be heading to New York."

Boss man was a staggering 6'2, and despite his head of grey hair, his build was large and muscled. He was skin akin to age and decades of hard work. Across his temple was a faded scar, only visible due to the tan of the skin surrounding it. He was intimidating - his stance was intimidating, the mystery behind is limp was scary and the tattoos screamed monster. Yet, I saw more than that.

"Got it, sir," I thanked him.

Our base in London was large - large enough to get lost inside. It was full of people dressed in suits, dresses or tight skirts. Not a bright colour in sight. Their hair is up clean and out of the way. Academics; those nerds who desired power or hidden secrets more than actual happiness but I guess we were the same type of person with different jobs. These jobs probably came from nepotism more than actual academics, however. I would know.

It's already hard to get a government-based job, but to get in this deep (the inner circle) and comprehend secrets which you can't call out to the public, only comes from families deep in power. Families based on the inside of the circle, like mine. My own father chose his job over his family. A family of Snipers - minus my precious mother.

I walked through the halls of the building - part of it being underground. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see armed men or women walking down these walls - there's a lots of different squadrons from all over the world based here at a time and we tend to work well with the nerds for intel on new jobs. Yet, each step down an unexplored corridor led to new stares from people. In these monumental buildings, hidden in plain sight, were rooms dedicated to us soldiers.

I got changed into some ordinary clothes which I always had packed for occasions like this. A simple black outfit to fit in and feel somewhat normal when walking past citizens. The feeling of walking down the street and no one knowing what your profession was, was quite relieving. No expectations, no hyper-awareness, no trying to save lives.

I had work to complete in some apartment paid for me by the government. I had lived in worse conditions before, so a simple laptop and a bed would do. Of course, that's not what I was expecting. Being an assassin, a sniper, where my life was a risk every day meant only the best from the government. I almost sneer at the lavishness of it all.

In the centre of London, a penthouse apartment with Mac Laptops were at my disposal. A bed big enough to make some of the squadron comfortable. I sighed. Sometimes I forget just how comfortable my life could be if I had the courage to end this assassin's life. If I could just have the worst memory in existence I could forget the people I've killed. The people I've been paid to kill. Guaranteed they were planned terrorist attacks but still, the blood on your hands will smear.

I got on the laptop, writing down a report of the situation. This job in London was long, suffering on rooftops to protect some political leader for the last month. It was voting time in the UK, political leaders doing the most to get votes and convince the public to vote for them. We were paid to protect a certain someone - of course, the public will never know.

A job in New York was brought up. I didn't attend because I like the wind-down job of writing down everything I remember. It was soothing after the exerting routine of attending to firearms greater than small children. I was good at it too. I like writing because it not only les me think about the way things might go in missions but I write down more than just reports, sometimes my feelings get involved and I can make some sort of understanding of them.

It usually takes me a short portion of the night to finish writing it. I shower, and then I get ready for bed. Although I should head to New York straight away after tonight - I decided to call up tomorrow night and have the day off tomorrow to further calm down. I hadn't had a holiday for the last 3 months. I had visited 4 different countries in that time. Not one of those days was I not in possession of a sniper rifle.

As I climbed into the silky bed, with the softest material on my roughed-up skin, my phone rang. It was my work phone, strictly used for information, personal details, information I needed to put down, and phone calls. My squadron leader was calling so I immediately picked up.

"Change of plans Steeleye, You're heading to South Korea in 3 days." He wasted no time in announcing.

"How come, sir?"

"You have a job, a solo one,"

"Yes sir,"