2158

Chapter 1: Breathe

Breathe in and breathe out. A phrase commonly linked with occasions where a person is in panic or distress, trying to calm them down to a relaxed state. But this is not one of those occasions.

Locking onto a target's head, 1,800 feet away, with pin-point precision accuracy, is no easy task. You would say, it'd be a bit distressing so to speak. But if you are an android. You have no emotions, which inturn means no distress, no panic. This series of android is meant to be as life like as possible to blend in, it's not entirely as steady as you would think.

Breathe in and breathe out. Through it's synthetic lungs, it steadied the sniper upon the rooftop. Noises of flying cars and holographic ads surround his hearing mechanism. Through the scope, is the white house, focused on the centre of the door. Waiting for an opening, waiting for a chance. A crowd of people just visible on the peripheral of the scope. Waiting. Signs in the air and ready to yell. For good or for bad, you don't know until the door opens. The wooden door through the pillars peak open revealing a slight image of an eye. A quick scan reveals all, that is the target. The oldest thing in this god forsaken city swings open with a man walking through, and his hands held high.

"Heeeeeello Washington!" The man exclaims. The crowd glow at him as he glows back. He steps up onto the pedestal where the microphone stands in front of him. He does this slowley, as if demanding more of an anticipation from the crowd. He makes gestures with his hands, trying to settle the crowd down. The bundle of people, slowley but surely, simmer down. He straightened his tie and opens his mouth ready to speak.

A slight squeeze of a trigger is all it takes to take a life. The shell floats through the sky and off the rooftop. Chamber gets pulled back and new bullet is prepared for the slight chance the bullet misses. The sharp slab of metal flies towards the man's face. Watching the bullet fly can feel like an eternity, slowly getting closer towards the target. In slow-motion, people look towards the sound of the old fashion sniper which was made around the 21st century. Old gun for new blood.

The bullet finally hits his face. The eye to be specific. The eye implodes on itself. Popping on a slight touch. The sound of bone crunching and meat slicing can be heard close by. The bullet leaves the back of his skull and through the thin skin. Blood on the white sandstone stands out bright like a single star in a black sky. Children scream and adults scramble to cover the eyes of the innocent young.

Job number one is done and it's training was completed. A swift disassemble of the sniper and pack up of equipment used in this operation is packed into a briefcase and it sneaks out of the tall apartment building. Back to the only place it is safe from the law.