“He’s coming out,” I say from a building across the nightclub.
“Do you have a clear shot?” Cortez buzzes in. I shake my head even though he can’t see me.
“No, he’s surrounded by some girls… wait-wait they’re leaving,” I aim my sniper. Damn. They came back.
“Great, if you have a shot, take it. He’s armed and extremely dangerous.”
“I know.”
“We’re counting on you.” My palms are sweating even though I do this every single day. My sniper is pointed at the head of one of the most dangerous men from Great Britain. How he got to the States undetected is beyond me.
George Julliard seems to be paying more attention to his phone than anything. Either his ear was at it, or he was texting up a storm. There must be some important matter…
This makes me uneasy.
“Can you see what I see?” I ask my team leader, Isaiah Cortez.
“Take the shot. He’s open.” T, the team entry specialist says. I pull the trigger, and without much more than a dong sound and a wisp of air (thanks to my beautiful silencer), George Julliard is down. A perfect bullet straight through the brain and the girls he is with probably think that he just collapsed from exhaustion or something. Until they see the blood of course.
But Ross probably took care of it by making sure that all the nearby lights were out.
The kill makes me slightly uneasy. Even though I was three miles away, it had seemed that Julliard had turned and… and looked at me. He had put his phone down and looked at me.
I watch the body for a little while, hoping he doesn’t move.
He doesn’t.
“It’s done,” I say into the com attached to my vest, “It was a little easier than I thought it would be…”
“Yeah,” T mutters, “too easy.”
“Stop being cliché, T,” Ross jumps in.
“Aw, leave him be,” Miles says, “We need some happiness nowadays.”
“Can everyone do me a favor and shut the hell up.” It wasn’t really a question. I had the capability of killing them all from two hundred feet away if my zoom was up properly. And they knew that.
“Harris is right,” Cortez cuts in, “we have to get rid of the body before anyone takes notice.”
“Too late,” I say coldly. I watch as a girl who was nearby, and hadn’t heard the shot looks over at the body and pool of dark blood and screams. She leans into the body, checking to make sure it’s dead I presume, and then stands up, jumps up and down, and runs into the club.
Less than two seconds later, she’s back out with two buff looking guys in tow.
“Damn,” Cortez curses. “Can you take her out?”
“With a stun, sure. I’ll lodge it in her arm.” I switch out the sniper (my home ground) for a stun gun (new territory) and add on the zoom. “Hell. You know that I can’t use this,” I whine into the com.
Miles laughs on the other side.
“Or we can come in and get her ourselves,” he says.
“You’ll attract too much attention.”
“Then do it yourself, Harris. Megan.” I groan into the com. Adjusting the zoom, I put on the silencer and take a shot. It hits her leg instead of her arm, but hey, she’s out like a light. The jumpers look around for the source of the shot, and I duck down.
