[b] Parking garage [/b]

He layed on top of a parked moving truck which was also on top of a parking garage. His rifle several feet from the edge hiding it from people below. A white blanket on top of him hid him from aerial observation.  There was absolutely no one out at this time, they had all gone in for supper. He let out a deep breath, he jotted down the wind speed and range in his note pad.

 He'd created nearly the perfect bullet in the sense that it was perfectly weighed and nearly flawless. Its entire essence was for this moment. If destiny was real, this bullet's would be to end this man's life. He went back to his rifle, it was aimed high and to the left. If wind conditions were sustained, he'd be able to make the perfect shot. 

Peeking back through his range finder he observed the family, the only thing that wasn't going perfectly was his "bugs" kept getting interfered with. He'd only catch snippets of their conversation. So far he'd gathered the younger female was the man's daughter, and the man's name was in fact Jim. "Well Jim, I catch you leaking secrets, your nights going to get a hell of a lot shorter." he said to himself.

 He reached into a chest pocket and pulled out a strip of jerky and chewed on it, listening to the garbled sounds of the bugs. If he were to take the shot it would be just shy of two miles. Even if he didn't spill the beans in the dinning area he had view of what was to be the man's bedroom according too the Intel he was given. 

 He slowly chambered the bolt action rifle, allowing the almost perfect bullet to slide into the chamber. He had one shot and only needed one shot, if he didn't kill him which he highly doubted at least it would scare him enough to shut his mouth until he will be able remove him in the near future.

[i]"I'd kill for a vacation to some tropical place, somewhere with beautiful women and endless booze."[/i] He thought bitterly. As his head began to throb a little. When ever he got headaches his sight dulled, back to what he assumed what it used too be. It had become so acute that he could see things hundreds of yards away with near perfect celerity. Not to mention he couldn't seem to die. He'd taken four bullets a month a go and lived to tell the tale. If its bad enough it usually knocks him out for several hours before he wakes up. "This old man isn't going to spill any secrets, I otta just take off and go home. Maybe make some Tacos or something." he was thinking out loud now. Something he would never have done if he was working with the military again, or even arcadia.