Brenda misses

Time slowed down for an infinite moment. The recoil, the hiss of the gas supression system, the ring of the impact. The sounds hung in there air drawn out as for the first time Brenda watched the target run, instead of dropping to to floor.

Her mouth hung open and for a moment, her professionalism abandoned her to the whims of shook and surprise. Time sped up and suddenly everything was back in focus.

Crap. This hasn't happened before, ever. Something isn't right here, I did everything perfectly, as usual. Someone must have warned him, or my info wasn't correct and he hand some kind of extra protection measures in place. But what could send the shot of course? It should have hit damn it!

The gun came apart quickly and was stuffed into the special box she carried it in. She quickly exited the roof and as walked down quickly through the hotel, she flipped the switch on the box and dropped it down a laundry chute. The box was her own design, solid metal and stuffed with thermite. The gun and any other evidence of the crime would be unidentifiable slag within 20 seconds. Better yet, the building would probably go up, providing both a distraction and another removal of any stray evidence.

There is no way I can finish the job now. I'll need another window and I'll need to find out who screwed up. It sure as hell wasn't me.

Her phone went off and she flipped it open holding it against her face as much to cover her as to listen. It was an automated message.

"343427189761" A computerised voice said before there was a click and the line went dead.

The code was how she communicated with her latest client. It referred to a specific sentence on a specific post on a specific forum on the the internet. This isn't going to end well, I know it.

The End

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