Code-name : Mietitrice
Taking a deep breath Meititrice walked forward, pacing back and forth in his hotel room. They were late, the convoy carrying his target was supposed to have arrived forty two minutes ago… He paused and glanced at his watch for the forty third time, watching is the minute hand ticked over, ever so slowing announcing another minute late. With a deep breath the assassin sat in his chair.
He was settled in a small hotel room; the bed was situated in the middle of the room. A king-sized mattress untouched and still made. Across from it was the dresser, upon which sat an old television lacrima display. Other than the one lacrima-lamp in the center of the room all other lights were off casting a deep shadow upon the entire area. In fact, at first glance the room would look perfect, prepared for whoever was to sleep within its depths next. Excluding one small factor, the chair, which usually sat in the corner of the room had been moved to the window, and something sat upon its frame.
He had dragged the armchair in the corner of the room over to the window, which was now opened slightly. His rifle sat mounted on the windows ledge, pointing towards the distant base. He signed once more. He trusted the guild, and its intel. He knew if the hit was off, or something had changed he would have been notified. His orders were clear, wait for the signal, and be ready. He would have a very small window of opportunity, a span of a few seconds to take the shot before all was lost, and this hit was called off for the day.
Once more he grabbed his rifle, and modified the scope, changing the zoom level in and out a few degrees. He knew, in the end he was as prepared as he could be, yet that did not stop his OCD, nor his need to verify. Taking a deep breath, he set the sights back on the door, and stood up looking in the nearby mirror. He was covered head to toe in leather. Crisscrossing cross his body, and down his limps an intricate network of black leather strips and plates. Over his head was he deep leather cowl, blacked with dye and scuffed with age. Anyone looking into its depths would be met with a black mask, and red eyes. No features showed, even the skin was magically dyed pure black. He might as well have been a shadow, a reaper, death.
Meititrice still had not gotten entirely use to guild life. Previously he worked as a lone assassin, and rogue agent. The jobs had been good, and word of mouth. His clients had been traceable, and he knew every detail. Now however, sense joining Hidden Blades he had become part of a team, and it was almost too easy. No longer did he have to case his own targets, or if he did then he was not pulling the trigger. It was strange, knowing there were others on your team, others that you could rely on, even if you could not entirely trust them. Even now, he had no idea how he was getting out of the hotel once the dead was done. That was handled by the support team who had already gathered his belongings, gotten him his passport, and informed him of his exit point, in case of needing to flee.
Suddenly, he heard a beeping sound. Reaching into his pocket the assassin pulled out a small device, non-descript and with a grey screen. Looking at the burner iLac he glanced over the message, his eyes alight with intrigue. The message was small, and concise, exactly what he would expect to see. Finally, his wait was over.
‘ETA. 32 Seconds’
The assassin wasted no time rushing towards his chair, he had made sure to stay close enough that the movement was fluid, and he did not knock into the rifle. As soon as he was sitting, he would reach over, place the but of the firearm against his shoulder and glance through the scope of Black Widow. The compound had not changed much, but he could see the gates opening, and vehicles were starting to file in.
He watched as three black Humvees entered the premises, in a perfect line their drivers trained in this very maneuver. Stopping exactly one meter apart, they parked outside the compounds main entrance. From the compound he saw a man step out, he was dressed in a fancy uniform, and seemed to be in a good mood. Destroying lives suited him.
Lt. Fredwich Walker, a known traitor, shipping magnate, and business shark. It was discovered that he used his military connection to embezzle finances to shell corporations, making himself a huge profit and allowing him to finance businesses all over the world. He was known as a Gun Runner, someone who made money from war. Unfortunately for him the truth had gotten out, and someone within his own inner circle wanted him crossed off, the client had informed Meititrices guild, and paid handsomely to have this problem solved. They asked that it be public, however discrete. There could be no link to the client, or to the guild, it was the kind of work Meititrice lived for.
Meititrice watched carefully, his sights on the man as he passed the bullet proof glass, leaving the safety of the compound. Just as he was about to pull the trigger someone stepped up to the lieutenant, blocking his shot. The man, or boy really, couldn’t have been older than his teens, with a mess of black hair and a dirtied face. He was part of the schemes and money laundry, probably a local who helped keep thing sunder the radar. However, he was not part of the hit, and at present his pace and location put him in direct line of sight to the general.
This left the assassin with a few options, none of which he liked. If he shot now, he could kill both the boy and the target, it would be easy with his high powered rifle, however that would lead to collateral Meititrice would not accept. His next option was no less dangerous, and even more risky, he could attempt shoot in such a way that he, ‘hopefully’, only grazed the boy, but still killed his target. However, the risk was great, if his timing was off then he would either fail the hit allowing the target to escape, or kill the boy, neither of which Meititrice was willing to risk. As such, he waited knowing at times like this patients was truly the ultimate virtue.
As such… he waited, the entire thing feeling like an eternity, yet spanning mere moments. As the man stepped up to the Humvee, Meititrice took a breath, steading his aim. The man stepped into the vehicle, putting his foot on the railing, and lifted his body. The assassin pulled the trigger. With a practiced aim the bullet rang across the distance, his firearm completely silent. Without a sound, he his mark, just as the lieutenant was stepping into the vehicle, his head clearing the top of the door, giving the smallest opening. The result was instantaneous, and immediate.
All at once there was chaos on the compound. Without waiting Meititrice pulled his sniper back into the room and forced it to disappear into its pocket demotion. Reaching over he grabbed the sheets on the bed, and pulled with all his might, forcing pillows to be thrown and bedding to crumple. Walking over to the TV he clicked the remote and typed in a random button. Going to the bathroom, he followed by turning on the shower, and soaking a few towels. After a few minutes he glanced around the room. Its perfection now changed entirely looking as if someone had actually used the room for a couple nights.
Taking a breath, once Meititrice was satisfied any trace of his existence was expunged he let out a sigh and felt the magic of his mast take over. A quick glance in the mirror would now show a standard face in the crowd, someone who would be overlooked without a second glance. The assassin knew, should the illusion be canceled, or negated he would be left in his fully cover suit, still hidden from sight. Without another word he slipped from the room and down the hallway. He had approximately three and a half minutes to get to the bottom floor and meet his driver, glancing back and forth he could see people watching their iLacs, and a in the lobby there was a few people watching the news.
As he stepped from the door, he could hear sirens, and knew the chaos of what had happened was close behind him. He did not have to wait long, with a quick turn down an alley, the assassin found himself face to face with another masked individual, getting into the waiting car the two drove off at a measured pace.
Total WC Hit : 1,514
