Post by Spencer Harker on Apr 13, 2020 14:25:34 GMT -5
"It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."
There came a time in ones life where questionable decisions were the norm. In the case of a soldier it was always the decision to take a life on orders or take a life because you wanted to. In the field here it was a matter of survival, do you take the shot that changes the world or do you sit on the sidelines and allow those with more power take the shot? Someone will take the shot but its up to them if they change history with that same shot. Does it land? Did they aim true? Did they pull the trigger with their heart in the way? Was it business? These are all questions a contract killer ignores but questions your average man has to live with.
"I don't think -- "
"Then you shouldn't talk."
An assassin was weighed on his merit. How good was he? Was he career or just your next Jack Ruby? How accurate was he? What was his background? Did anyone know who he was? The importance of those questions didn't matter before the trigger was pulled, it all came after. Motive? Angle? How involved was he? Who did he shoot? How was that person involved in his life? With each bullet loaded into the magazine of the sniper rifle one could wonder if he needed the extra shots or if they were there just as an insurance policy if he was cornered. An assassin was nothing more than a coward, but cowards shaped history.
"We're all mad here."
The sky today was clear and sunny, the lane crossing from the streets were clear of people to allow Mr. President to quickly enter his vehicle from the front of City Hall rather than some hidden garage built into the back. Harker was very forward about his Presidency, he dared the world to take the shot and gave them every opportunity to do so. It had been three years since taking office when someone finally took him up on his offer, waiting, but for how long? Was it days? Hours? One would wonder.
His eye didn't linger, his rifle was steady, his spotter hit his scope with a flash of light, it was time. He saw the white suit of the President, his white hair, walking down the stairs, he took a small breath in and pulled the trigger. The .300 Winchester Magnum left the barrel of the gun zipped down the street and hit the man under his left arm where his heart would be, the impact of the bullet startled him because he left his feet and fell to his right then rolled down the stairs. The assassin let go of the rifle and slowly moved back away from the edge leaving behind one thing as he slipped into the building.
"'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
It took no time at all for the Secret service and the newly appointed ZRS to enter the shooters building. There was a radio playing on loop, the rifle, and on the ground was a large logo painted in place.