[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220326/2d7728a0ab173bb973d596d6457511aa.png[/img] [hr][hr] It was a simple transaction. Left in their usual place by the Padre, Dead Kelley’s instructions for this gig were straightforward. No collateral. The rest of the details were whatever Kelley desired them to be. There was no need for discretion; no need for pomp and circumstance, end a life, a single life and close the contract. The eddies would be in his account before the end of the day. The snatching of a life; this did not weigh heavily on Kelley’s soul. He has made peace with himself and what his body did. His spirit was pure, his body a weapon. Life was but a dream. It was a simple transaction. For most, the heavily modified “Whisper” would feel weighty in the hands of somebody else. She was of course a Techtronika SPT32 Grad, a legitimate beast of a rifle. To Kelley, she was as light as a feather. He was perched in the window of the abandoned apartment; the entire floor was vacant due to what many believed a voodoo boys hit. The place was firebombed to fuck. Word on the street was that the target was some techie, Judy or something. Either way it didn’t matter, it made for the perfect crows nest for Kelley. The target today was some corpo cunt called Loudermilk. What he did didn’t really matter; if the name was written in the ledger, then they would be pushed into the next life sooner rather than later. Black Alice had left Kelley a few more details, typical of her. She liked to give her boys some incentive. Turns out that Loudermilk not only liked to steal from his corp but he also had a proclivity for kidnapping kids, doing unspeakable things to them and grafting ungodly cybernetics onto their poor bodies. He was the worst kind of fetishist. Kelley rarely took any kind of personal pleasure in his job but for this gonk, he would find joy in that. Kelley had mapped out Loudermilk’s entire routine and had been waiting for days to line up that perfect shot. His enhanced eyes narrowed with his finger grazing the trigger. Loudermilk was parked by the edge of the water; some joy toy from JigJig on their knees with his little pecker in their mouth. It was all clockwork. One shot. One kill. In less than a second, Kelley had pulled back the trigger and Loudermilks brains and implants were sprayed across the windscreen of his car. The joy toy fell from the back seat onto the soaking wet ground, their face a crimson mass of blood and cybernetics, screaming as they hurried into the night. [color=B1E4FC]”Target eliminated”[/color] He broke down his rifle and placed it into the suitcase that he was carrying before departing the rooftop. Kelley climbed into the waiting Delemain cab. [color=B1E4FC]”Afterlife, Del. And play me some Samurai would you?”[/color] With the dulcet tones of Kerry Eurodyne and the powerful guitar of Johnny Silverhand serenading him; Kelley closed his eyes as his car set off on its journey. This was what he liked to refer to as his meditation. He looked back on the gig he had just done. Was there any way it could have been done better? Any way that it could’ve been cleaner or quicker? Not really but it was good to remind yourself that not everything you do was perfect. He thought back to his days in MaxTac and the events that led him to this point. He subconsciously reached for the wound on his neck, feeling the ruff, pattern on top of the scar tissue almost transported him back to that moment all those years ago. The honking of a horn awoke the sniper from his trance; he had arrived at the Afterlife. It was time to collect payment.[/center]