April 14, 2021. 15:30. Vancouver.

"I hate men," I mutter, adjusting my sniper rifle on the balcony railing. Of course, I don't actually mean it. But why do half my contracts seem to involve men in some kind of dick-measuring contest? I inspect the scope of my weapon and take a deep breath. I aim the barrel down the street and tune into my surroundings. A mess of red, brown, and grey brick apartments blends into a guttural sprawl some people would generously call a neighbourhood.

From my vantage point, I overlook a street where cars and civilians move about. The gentle breeze, the clear sky, and the warm sun serve only as reminders that today was supposed to be my day off. The sound of people laughing and music drifting from a nearby window does nothing but heighten my annoyance. My finger twitches slightly with impatience, though it isn't even on the trigger yet. I restrain myself.

"Where are you, asshole? I don't have all day." Out of the corner of my eye, I spot several black cars pulling over to the curb. Each one is different, they range from high-end to more modest. They all share one thing: a white skull spray-painted on the hood, surrounded by gaudy luxury decals. The Dead Kings. "Fashionable" as always. I quickly count the gangsters stepping out. Eight in total. Each one has the same tattoo that matches their tacky cars.

I'm not letting them anywhere near me, despite their size and numbers. Instead, I focus on a Hispanic guy at the center of their group. Tanned skin, black hair, red round shades. He struts with the kind of swagger that screams "manslut." Mid-twenties, tops. I adjust the scope and zoom in on his necklace. Nice to see you finally show up, AXIS.

I check the distance and wind resistance between me and my target and adjust myself accordingly. My aim and stance shift as I plant my feet firmly on the ground while leaning slightly into my rifle to counteract recoil. I hold my breath to steady my aim, timing it with the lull in my heartbeat for precision. As my breath pauses, I squeeze the trigger, feeling the rifle's kick against my shoulder. Bang. A comforting but thunderous sound acknowledges my lone existence on this rooftop. AXIS drops to the ground; my target is finally dead.

I take my weapon off the railing while keeping a close eye on the street below. I notice the many different civilians running for cover and the Dead Kings members who scatter in fear for their own lives. Time for me to leave. I smile to myself and disassemble my rifle into smaller parts. I place each component into a nearby suitcase and pick it up before descending a nearby flight of stairs.

I happily hum to myself in great satisfaction, and I pass by several civilians cowering in a corner. I jump off the final step of the stairs and wind up on a street corner. A woman carrying a baby runs past me.

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"W-What's going on?! Is there-there a gang shooting?!" A confused young man cowers behind a nearby bench. I pass him quickly, my eyes keeping a close eye on the street where my target died. A Dead Kings member speaks in confusion about the situation.

"Damn it! What do we do?!" Good. Stay confused. I count the men present around the corpse and then head towards a black pickup truck parked nearby. I take out a remote key from my baggy pants and press a button. Nothing happens and I try pressing down on the button again.

"Of course." I groan and fish around for another remote key. I pull another one out of my pocket and hit the button. Again, nothing happens. "What the hell?" I look around to see where the Dead Kings are, but also to keep an eye on the dead body. To no one's surprise, AXIS' corpse remains on the cold pavement. I turn my attention back to my truck and groan. I pray to every possible god that the next key remote I pick will be the right one. Why did I bring more than one key again?

The sound of police sirens in the distance snaps me back to reality and I quickly take out the third remote key. I mash the button with my thumb and a satisfying beep emanates from the truck. Thank God. I open the back door of the truck and throw my suitcase inside.

I double-check my jacket's inner pockets and remind myself that I carry a knife and pistol. Okay, good, they're still here. I shut the backdoor and hop into the driver's seat. "See you later, assholes." I eye the Dead Kings through the windshield and then start the engine of my truck. I hum to myself a quick tune of satisfaction and take out my smartphone to enter an address into it for directions.

As I enter the location of my destination, my phone rings and I groan.

"Oh for fuck's sake." I stare at the caller's ID on my screen. I swiftly accept the incoming call knowing full well that I won't be relaxing anytime soon today.

"Heyyy, Wissen. What's up?" I drive my truck onto a busier street and I put my phone into speaker mode. The sound of a middle-aged gentleman responds promptly as I drive past a police car no doubt investigating the crime scene I left.

"Hello, Artemis, it's been a while. I hope this wasn't a bad time?" I catch myself about to sigh and then restrain myself. It wouldn't do me good to give a long-time friend sass.

"Eh, I just finished another contract, so I got time. What do you need?"

"I have a job for you, something that I wouldn't entrust to anyone else." Nevermind. I snort and speed away further from the crime scene. I easily navigate around traffic and my well-maintained rig responds to my movements with ease.

"Oh lovely," I roll my eyes with sarcasm dripping through my voice. "Please don't tell me it'll take up the whole damn day." I completely drop the mask concealing the annoyance in my voice.

Normally any self-respecting individual would not let me get away with such an attitude but Wissen is a different man. Instead of giving an equal amount of sass, he simply chuckles.

"You have five hours from now before I pick you up outside your home."

"Can we do this tomorrow?"

"Haha, no."

"Will I be paid a lot?"

"I'll tell you later tonight."

"Why not now?"

"I'm unfortunately busy."

"Can you at least tell me what this is about?"

"I'll see you later."

"What the fu—" The smartass then hangs up on me mid-sentence. Did he just out bitch me? I arrive at a red light and stare at my phone in disbelief.

"Whatever," I sigh and turn off my phone. "Time to wrap this up." I drive towards the growing set of dark skyscrapers downtown.