“I hope this prick looks up to JFK. They’re about to have a lot in common.” The sniper said in a voice that already boomed with confidence and victory. The man’s trigger finger pulled back, he could feel the motion of the gun in his bones, feel the bullet leave vibrations in its wake with his very soul. The sniper kept his eye glued to the infrared scope, waiting with baited breath for that splash of red he had been looking forward to for so long. Then it was there a splash of—Blue? The man’s jaw dropped open; he immediately stood his full height, head rocketing over the scope to get a better look at what he had just been watching through his scope. The man had been expecting immediate death; the bullet should have pierced right through the President’s skull. Instead there was a flash of blue, blue that certainly wasn’t blood. It was as if something had moved in between the bullet and the target even after the shot was fired. The sniper pulled out his binoculars; he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It wasn’t possible. Every image his eyes picked up, every time he blinked, he saw the same, impossible sight, the same infuriating image. The men crouched below the rim of the roof looked at the assassin nervously, their hidden eyes could hide their identities, but their exposed mouths betrayed their nervousness.
“What is it!? What happened?” hissed one man, barely containing his seething rage.