"Hello?" asked a somewhat gruff voice into a phone. The man waited for a response from the caller. "No, I'm sorry, there is no person by that name here." However, instead of hanging up, the man waited for another response from the caller. He listened close for a code phrase from the caller, to see if this was a certain type of call or not. It was. "Yes, this is him. How may I help you?"
The man who had been called was no ordinary man. He was an assassin for hire. After an incident that plagued the world, the man was left without a job. During his life, he was always a sharpshot when it came to using weapons, capable of hitting a small target from a distance of up to a mile without a scope. To use a scope, he was never without his trusty gun. Not just any gun, but a custom made gun. It was completely silver coated with a .45 mm barrel. It was about a foot and a half long and had a hand holder on the barrel and one on the handle. Technically, it was more like a rifle. The trigger on the gun was polished with a golden paint and the metal around the trigger was also gold painted. The sight on the rifle was about 2 mm tall and 3 mm thick with a curve out of it of about 1 mm. On the side of the gun was an illegible signature belonging to the man. The barrel of the rifle on the inside had curved ridges, which caused the bullets that were shot out to spin as they flew.
"Well, I must say, that's a big order. Something like that isn't going to be cheap, you know that, right?" The man spoke into the phone, after being told the details of the job. He waited for another response. "Alright, now, what is your name?" The man grabbed a pen nearby from a desk and wrote down the name on the back of a scrap piece of paper. He took the paper and tucked it inside his shirt pocket. "My name? If you're calling me, you should already know who I am." The man waited for a response from the caller.
"That I do. Just make sure the job is done right. No slip ups, you hear?" the caller demanded.
The man chuckled a little. "I don't slip up."
"Do the job right, and I will pay you handsomely, Snipe." With that, the caller hung up. Snipe closed his phone and began to prepare for his trip.
* * * * * * * *
"Alright, wind speed is currently 5 mph southwest." Snipe said, outloud, to no one. The blaring heat of the desert sun was amplified off the smooth, pale dunes. Birds from above sang their songs as they passed through, skimming along the clouds. A few puff balls of clouds dotted the skies, occasionally providing shade. The winds carried the fragrance of the sands along with it as it passed by Snipe's face. Glare from the sun pulsated across the ground in waves.
Snipe rested his gun on a divet in the dunes and positioned himself to look down the scope. He had a clear view of his target from where he lie. It was just another routine assassination, no big matter to Snipe. After a while of doing this, the nightmares of his kilings slowly faded into nothingness. The person who hired Snipe to kill this person had their reasons. He no longer thought to question their motives, for it didn't matter to him. As he was about to take a shot, the target moved, obscuring Snipe's view.
"Damnit." Snipe slammed his fist into the sand and sighed. He looked down and pulled out a necklace he wore. On it was a locket, which contained a picture of his sweetheart, Cammie. It was a birthday gift that she gave him last year. She was smiling wide for the camera, and most likely thinking about Snipe when the picture was taken. He tucked the locket back into his shirt and viewed down the scope of his gun again. Finally, his target came into view.
"There you are. Hold still now. That's good..."
BANG
The man who had been called was no ordinary man. He was an assassin for hire. After an incident that plagued the world, the man was left without a job. During his life, he was always a sharpshot when it came to using weapons, capable of hitting a small target from a distance of up to a mile without a scope. To use a scope, he was never without his trusty gun. Not just any gun, but a custom made gun. It was completely silver coated with a .45 mm barrel. It was about a foot and a half long and had a hand holder on the barrel and one on the handle. Technically, it was more like a rifle. The trigger on the gun was polished with a golden paint and the metal around the trigger was also gold painted. The sight on the rifle was about 2 mm tall and 3 mm thick with a curve out of it of about 1 mm. On the side of the gun was an illegible signature belonging to the man. The barrel of the rifle on the inside had curved ridges, which caused the bullets that were shot out to spin as they flew.
"Well, I must say, that's a big order. Something like that isn't going to be cheap, you know that, right?" The man spoke into the phone, after being told the details of the job. He waited for another response. "Alright, now, what is your name?" The man grabbed a pen nearby from a desk and wrote down the name on the back of a scrap piece of paper. He took the paper and tucked it inside his shirt pocket. "My name? If you're calling me, you should already know who I am." The man waited for a response from the caller.
"That I do. Just make sure the job is done right. No slip ups, you hear?" the caller demanded.
The man chuckled a little. "I don't slip up."
"Do the job right, and I will pay you handsomely, Snipe." With that, the caller hung up. Snipe closed his phone and began to prepare for his trip.
* * * * * * * *
"Alright, wind speed is currently 5 mph southwest." Snipe said, outloud, to no one. The blaring heat of the desert sun was amplified off the smooth, pale dunes. Birds from above sang their songs as they passed through, skimming along the clouds. A few puff balls of clouds dotted the skies, occasionally providing shade. The winds carried the fragrance of the sands along with it as it passed by Snipe's face. Glare from the sun pulsated across the ground in waves.
Snipe rested his gun on a divet in the dunes and positioned himself to look down the scope. He had a clear view of his target from where he lie. It was just another routine assassination, no big matter to Snipe. After a while of doing this, the nightmares of his kilings slowly faded into nothingness. The person who hired Snipe to kill this person had their reasons. He no longer thought to question their motives, for it didn't matter to him. As he was about to take a shot, the target moved, obscuring Snipe's view.
"Damnit." Snipe slammed his fist into the sand and sighed. He looked down and pulled out a necklace he wore. On it was a locket, which contained a picture of his sweetheart, Cammie. It was a birthday gift that she gave him last year. She was smiling wide for the camera, and most likely thinking about Snipe when the picture was taken. He tucked the locket back into his shirt and viewed down the scope of his gun again. Finally, his target came into view.
"There you are. Hold still now. That's good..."
BANG