The shot

I drift through the hush of the canyons, daring to usurp the loudest breeze. I
sometimes I forget Im on my own, just testing my own limits. I think Im running
from something real. Like death or peril. Although I might be in a way, I only use it
as an excuse to hide from my own problems. My past. My problems. My job

I find myself pressured upon most when I run like this, alone. In the
Irdenshingle quarries. I feel as if a crowd is waiting for me to fail, it drives me to
succeed, at what? I never know. But I just feel like I have to do something. I time how
long it takes me to climb one of the numerous towers of petrified silt: unwanted by
humanity. When I arrive at the peak, breathless and internally panicking, I look for
applause from the sky. All I am given is silence. But still; its better than something

The more you know, the harder it is to do your job.

Thats the only tip given to me about my livelihood. My only instruction on

premeditated murder. (oversight: Im what people generally refer to in my field as a
Haze its a pretty pretentious name for assassin, without the connotation of pure
stealth. We focus on the in-and-out aspect of a kill. Getting a good vantage point as
fast as possible and getting out of there whilst leaving no evidence, I even devised a
bullet casing bin to go directly onto my gun, catching the refuse as to not leave any
hint I was there, well apart from the dead guy of course.) Out of context; looking at
someone through a scope and pulling a trigger sounds easy. But when the guy
throwing money at you to do it insists on telling you every little thing about who you
have to kill it makes it difficult. You start to realise your impact on the world. You
become aware. Thats why I always ask for the shortest summary possible on my
target. Its usually something along the lines of gun smuggler or gang
somethingorother and one of my favourites: bad person, shoot pls.

Since such a job has the tendency to attract people who want me dead, Ive
had to keep my everything on the lowdown. To the point where I dont technically
have an address, I just live in this abandoned flat: part of a planned expansion to
Malberks housing in the foundations of the bridge. But since it fell through I now
have only economic failure to thank. Oh and what I have to thank it for: dank,
peeling walls, non-existent electrical setup (spent more time than I want to admit
fixing it up, draining unmissed amounts from the dry-docks and stuff above) and
best of all: it was unknown

1/5

I couldnt remember when I woke up. I didnt even know if I slept the night
before; I checked my messages, expecting nothing;

1 new message
From:<[email protected]>
Time: 6:15 (over 1 hour ago)
Lowcrags (numbersnumbers,numbersnumbers)
15:23.
be there.
an advanced payment had been made to your account.
more information when you get there.
Since I didnt have time to walk halfway down the country I had to find some
way to get to this closed off area. The first thing to come to mind would be
a helicopter. Too loud.
A parachute drop. Too dangerous.
A bike or something. Thatll do

A quick lookup and I found this guy. He seemed good at whatever the verb for
bike taxi-ing people is without just saying bike taxi-ing. And from what I heard: he
was fast. I spared no time in hiring him (well, apart from the hour I spent faffing
around Malberk) and he picked me up from a car park, one which I had to wait 7
minutes in with all my armour and killing stuff in a bag next to me; and since I
thought it was a good idea to ditch my phone when my helmet had the potential to
have the interface installed I had faced regret for those soulless moments, looking
like some idiot who had been kicked out of his house into a skip from what I was
wearing at the time.

When I actually saw the bike It looked like a converted 1-trak -in fact it was a
converted 1-trak- something I thought I wouldnt see outside old movies and
museums. As with the aforementioned track it was used when traversing rough
terrain in the tiny heritance lands in which loads of little conflicts took place; and in
this case the tread was scrapped in favour of two large wheels. And the man riding
2/5

said bike understood the whole no names thing and we he didnt even need to talk
since I already messaged him where I needed to go. I hocked my stuff on the back
and we were off to some dumb jungle.

Somehow I managed to put my armour on whilst sitting on the back of a bike,

while it was moving, while holding on with one hand to the bar. As we neared the
ledge I chose to get dropped off at I finally noticed something, the bike didnt leave a
trail in the undergrowth - what with half of its innards being scrapped making it
easier to repair and so on- I took this as a handy advantage and gave him a rough
time:
Half three okay? I shrugged before reaching for my wallet. A surprisingly gruff
voice replied, as if he shotgunned a pint of ash before leaving the house that day.
sure thing. I threw a scrunched bundle of notes his way, probably more than
enough; I awkwardly made my way off the bike before unfastening my bag, making
an absurd effort to retain perishing pride, It fell off the frame and bounced onto the
floor; that clutter being my prides death rattle. Waved off the driver and he ineptly
answered have fun although it came out more as Mumble mumble obviously
those words went out of practice in his vocabulary

For a while, nothing happened. I was just waiting whilst I lay in the grass, each
blades vain attempt to dent my armour gone unbeknownst to me; I checked the
time:

13:08.

Damn; I hate waiting

When the call started ringing about my helmet I was confused. I had nothing to
compare it to for the past hour so it sounded like a siren at first. I picked it up and
there was initially silence:
Hey? I assumed that my disconcerted tone rang through the line. Nothing.
yeaaah Im gonna disconnect. I was taken aback by that, it felt like some ooglyboogly monster thing would go get me now. It rang once more; I hesitated before
picking it up this time. No silence, immediately into a conversation
Well m8 that wasnt very nice. Couldnt tell where the accent was from, sounded
vaguely northern but didnt have the dialect.
3/5

I assumed it was a dead call.

I was just testin you, seeing if you were there. He traced the call. Retro.
Wait, you traced the call? I mean, I took a breath to mask the time it took me to
construct a joke what is this? Wire-tier tech appreciation day?
Anyway; I assume you want to know your target.
What do you think?
I actually I dont know, I cant pick up on body language if I cant see you. So yes?
He cleared his throat so much I could practically hear him straightening a tie
Hes a science-y guy, but hes not exactly law-abiding, and now hes trying to sell
bombs to anyone who wants them.
So you want me to stop him selling bombs?
Yes, to put it briefly, he has done much worse than that already a breath If I recall
there is a deal going down at the marked time, and if you take him out before he can
get the stuff out of his lab then thats your job done.
Okay.
Also I forgot to mention that I scouted out a better point for y-
No, I saw it and it was like an 80 degree drop. Dangerous. Found a better one.
Huh. Well have fun then. The call cut abruptly.
Since I was talking I didnt notice the boop-boop on my motion tracker. I readied
myself for an attack before immediately repacking my knife: it was just some dude.
Before I could think I already had a story.
What brings you here mister? panic.
Jeg iagttage brden I dont even know.
What? I made some vague hand motions for birds
Birdhvordan du siger, watch! pretending to not know a language is difficult.
Birdwatcher eh? Seem heavily kitted to watch some birds. Here we go
Rustning til fall. I knocked on my chest and pointed at the basin below Knife er til
emergency waved my knife around, with no other vague miming for emergency.
Okay then. I think. Anyway have fun he waved at me, a universal gesture, I waved
back and stumbled on the ledge, almost careening into the valley all those storeys
4/5

below. A quiet chuckle made its way round my left ear:

oh by the keep you are hilarious! Did you seriously just fall after babbling nonsense
at a passerby?
I thought you ended the call.
I did, this is your comm channel m8. A sigh swept across my visor.
Seriously? How many tricks do you have left to pull? I could hear whispered
numbers being counted; before stopping with muffled denial. A few
Anyway, how much u paying for this? Because I dont know if you forgot but I
almost died already.
I thought you had that worked out. Damnit. I dont know whats too much or little
Well what was the advanced payment again? I didnt have time to check by the
bank
50k. Not much
Okay so lets add in 100k after t- WAIT NOT MUCH?! instantly envisioned this guy
sitting on a throne or something. Yeah, this is a high-value target and Im treating it
as such, Ill give you a number l8r okay?
Yeah okay. He fell silent; I presumed he was still on the other end. I dug up my
Rifle from my bag and fastened the scope on:

15:19.

Almost.
As I prepared myself my vision darted throughout the valley. Where?
I look for any kind of weird looking ground or anything. Nothing.
I gave up the prediction and just waited in silence; my heart replacing the ambience.
A sharp hydraulic drop echoed from the basin; and a figure emerged from a nowrevealed cave. Now.
I fumble around with the barrel, trying to steady my aim. One chance.
I prepare myself mentally, taking a deep breath before firing. Here goes n-.

An unearthly earsplitting snap erupted from my right; as if some sort of divine

5/5

intervention acted directly against me atleast I think it was. Trees folded before
it, breaking their century-old trunks like fresh shoots. Holy sh*t.
Even though I was honestly shocked, I had to act unfazed; I regained my bearings
and tried looking for the target again. Dead.
My attention was lost on him, instead looking around the place for whatever got him
first. Optic process: nothing.
Not even a computer designed to find things could find it. I decided to call it in
honestly; hoping he would not go ballistic.
Um, hey boss? didnt tell me his name, understandable.
Yeah m8?
About the target
Let me guess; He knew. Someone else got im?
Yeah.
I heard it from here m8. He was trying to act professional, trying he sounded
kinda upset, the reluctance and overly-formed words broadcasted that; no use
bargaining when I didnt do anything.
So I assume Im not gonna get paid.
Oh, obviously. There goes my day.
So should I just give you back the depos-. He stopped me
Nah, nah. He protested keep it, you earned that, just remember this if I need you
in the future. Nice. Wait. Not nice. He has me on bloody retainer now. Dont argue.
Thanks! feigning sincerity is one of my weaker points, probably why I didnt work
in a call centre. Just remember Im not really doing anything else so just ring up
anytime! I deactivated the comms for good when I saw my ride. Wont be needing to
call him now

In retrospect I do know who stole my meal ticket: Anchor.

Ive met him a few times in the past and the more that I think about it the more
improbable that it wasnt him. The rifle was unlike anything other than his.
But it didnt completely match his style; he stayed hidden through all of it. He was
acting serious. He mustve been in a hurry or something. It doesnt add up

6/5

Anchor was one of those guys you wouldnt want to be friends with, he seemed
good with people he just chose not to, he was brash, loud and inaccurate. He always
killed someone; even if he missed the target. Long story short: almost every time I
bump into him I regret taking the job in the first place; he always thinks hes right
and doesnt even think for himself let alone others, from time to time I have been
muscled out of my vantage points because he showed up, I mostly just enact my
dismay in the form of a poor put together insult and go on my way to a new spot
because I dont usually have time to argue with sociopaths

That being said; we have worked together once or twice, more notably a few
months back up north where a big gang thing was going down and someone from the
bloody TCA hired us to do their job for them, we had different specific targets but a
higher bounty was offered if we took them all out, and we did; I was spotting and
picking off guys here and there while he acted as the main distraction (you know,
since that rifle could stop a building from standing) and I have to admit, when we
were working together it felt as if he knew how to be a contributing member of
society (so he wasnt completely crazy) he just didnt want to.
It was weird. He was weird.

7/5