The Sharpshooter

         

The Sharpshooter

The Soldier treated across the snow covered ground, his long coat drifting in the wind behind him. He had arrived earlier today, finding the city to rapidly be enveloped in thick blanket of snow, much to his distaste. Of course, he would never voice these complaints, preferring to silently curse the eldritch creators. His gait and general... Offness made people avoid him, whether consciously or unconsciously. Neither could place quite why the moved, just that there was something inherently wrong with the man. They could sense the man had a purpose, and were equally certain that they wanted to get the fuck away as fast as possible. A man like this only meant trouble for everyone.

The people found the weather odd as well. It was a unusually warm winter for Chicago, Illinois, and this today had been predicted, as recently as they day before, to continue the trend with temperatures as high as the low fifties. But here the people of Chicago were, bundled up in thick, winter clothes against the practical blizzard and temperatures ranging from 20 Fahrenheit to as low as 5 Fahrenheit. Meanwhile, The Soldier wore nothing more than black jeans, a black shirt, and a black long coat, and showed no signs of being cold or discomfort.

He walked into a tall apartment building, and started ascending the floors. Upon reaching the fourteenth, signing at humanities superstitions, he stepped out of the stairwell. He walked down the hallway until he reached room 1413. He knocked loudly and clearly thirteen times. When he received no answer, he entered the apartment. Now, how he did this without both a key and key card? The door knew better than to remain locked for this man.

The inside of the apartment was, for the most part, disorganized. The Soldier looked around, slightly disappointed that The Sharpshooter wasn't home. He had hoped to catch him off guard. It looked like word of The Hunter's death had spread quickly. Or, at least, faster than The Soldier had hoped for. The Soldier looked around the apartment, for something, finally stopping on a rather thick granite countertop. He raised his fist, and brought it down on the counter as hard as he could, shattering it. Inside was several guns, among them a .308 caliber rifle fitted with a scope. Missing was a .50 caliber Anti Material Rifle. The Soldier took the .308 caliber, and quickly set it up next to a window. After using it to scan the skyscrapers in sight, he caught the glint of a sniper scope from a construction site about a quarter mile off. He aimed for it, adjusted for wind and gravity, and fired.





What the Soldier did not see, was that his shot was ever so slightly off. It hit the side of the scope, ricocheting away from the head of The Sharpshooter, but shattering the scope. Pieces of glass flew into his eye, causing him to reel back and throw the gun off the edge of the unfinished skyscraper. He clasped his eye, screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs, switching human languages rapidly, and slipping into some unknown to man. After about thirty seconds of clasping his eye in pain and shouting, a man we shall know as The Harbinger entered.
"I see I am too late to warn you that you are his next target."
"Sie verdammt denken?"
"No need you be a rude smartass about it. What were you doing?"
"Contract Killing. I should have been watching my apartment."
"Well, right now, I'm watching flames spew out of your apartments windows."
"Tmag dul chun cuimilt dar leithligh."
"Later, my friend. For now, Let's get you to The Doctor. The Soldier shall assume you have perished, for now, at least."
"Very well. Let's go."
"Once we are there, I will have to leave and warn the rest."
"The others may attempt to hide, or prepare to fend him off, but I... I'm going to track him across the fabric of reality. I will rend him from existence itself leaving him to an eternity of torment from those whom our creators shun. He shall not complete his goal."
"Once The Doctor let's you leave, you may do as you wish. For now, let's take our leave."

And so, the men left from the construction site using pathways no mortal could ever conceive, to visit another of their kind, one capable of healing The Sharpshooter and removing his pain. Meanwhile, The Soldier left the apartment building, seemingly pleased with his handiwork. He had no clue what was coming, nor what he was coming to.