The League of Espionage Photojournalists

One

Hello! Because Wattpad doesn't have enough underpracticed, quasi-fanfiction writers, I'm here to add my offering to the pile!

The entire idea for this story is inspired by an anonymous comment somewhere in a thread discussing an episode of a spy anime, in which, no matter how secretive, all of the antics of the protagonists and villains end up chronicled, the next day, in a spy magazine. Prompting the commenter -- "I'd like to meet the photographers who got all these angles on the best spies in Japan without being noticed."

So, of course, I brushed up on my washed-out, stereotypical anime tropes, did a bit of light worldbuilding, and decided to churn out this disaster. If nothing else, at least I hope it's amusing. Enjoy!

.-- .- ... ... ..- .--.

There's always a moment that feels like the beginning.

When my muscles become still, the world becomes quiet, when everything hangs in balance while the wind dances circles over me. When all of sudden there is just me, crouching, waiting for my target, and the whole world becomes the image in my scope, poised to strike.

Of course, that isn't nearly the beginning. That would do offense to the hours of work beforehand, researching, observing, planning. Choosing my moment, my position, my plans and contingency plans, perfectly. Reviewing my assignment. Oiling my equipment. Then sliding from shadow to shadow across the city. Taking the position I've chosen. Assembling my instrument tiny piece after tiny piece, meticulous and methodical. Checking my timing, my placement, my tools, once, twice, three times.

Then I find myself here. When all the preparation I can do is finished, and my world hangs in balance. That single, still moment between the time to plan for anything that could go wrong, and the moment where I discard all of those plans and do whatever is necessary to make my shot. There's a bit of gnawing in my stomach, of course. There always is. To not be nervous is to be an idiot. But there's something else alongside it, too. I don't know how to define it. Not quite excitement, not quite impatience.

Sureness, I suppose. Ready to do my job.

The crackle increases on my earphone, amplifying a tiny, static-ridden thumping. I glance at the amplifier to my right, its large bell picking up every tiny sound current running through the air. I know that sound. Footsteps. Here we go.

And there is my target. He walks out into the clear zone between the roofs of the surrounding buildings, looking around. I don't need to check my position to know he will not see me, pressed low against one of those roofs. My target folds his arms, sighing a bit impatiently. Nervously. Waiting for his contact. I wait, too. My instructions are clear. No point in taking a shot while he is alone. I need the contact there, in the frame.

I don't have to wait long. With a yell, she appears, walking out from between two buildings across from him. She jogs over, and they turn, exchanging conversation. I curse in irritation. They've turned too much. She's blocking my angle. I'll have to wait.

Finishing the brief exchange, she grabs him by the wrist, moving quickly, steering him out of the opening. I sigh in annoyance. I had hoped they'd stay put, for once. Oh well. I guess I'll get in my exercise.

Soundlessly, I slide up from my position--stomach pressed against the metal roof, scope pointing down, stopping just short of the gutter--up to a crouch. I take out my earphone. Check my surroundings for a moment. Clear. Then I take off.

The rust certainly makes my job easier. My boots grip the metal as I slide silently across, keeping low. In a few strides, I reach a chimney, pressing my back against it. A quick glance around the side shows the contact pulling my target into the corridor between two buildings just beyond the chimney, out towards a street. I wait for them to vanish from my sightline, then make a beeline across the rest of the roof, sliding smoothly back down to prostrate against the metal as I hoist my scope, peering over into the corridor. I can see them from above, here, in the crack between the two rooflines, but the angle is messy. Not good enough for me.