PoV: Snipes.
‘Are these guys serious?’
That thought goes through my mind as I begin to steady my breathing.
‘Why the hell do they need a professional to take care of a single, worthless man? Even the worst of the newbies can take this guy out.’
Making sure I’m at the right place, I stare ahead at the window that takes the place of a wall.
Looking through the scope of my rifle, though it wouldn’t be needed to see what was going on from this distance, there is a man in his early twenties. Rolling around in his room like a goddamn idiot.
I decided that it would be better to wait-for obvious reasons-until this guy would stop moving.
As I wait, my eyes trail off, and find themselves looking at his profile.
The very top of the first page has a name in bold print, Frederick Garrison.
Below that, there is a picture and a description:
Gender: Apache attack helicopter (What the fuck?)
Height - 5’9/175 cm
Weight – 115 lbs./52 kg (Why the hell would I care?)
Black hair.
Blue eyes.
Above average looks. (I can see that already.)
Apparently, this man has a relatively high IQ.
Honestly, I could care less about anything in the profile, other than the name and the picture.
Bringing my focus back to my scope, “Frederick” was sitting on a bed, typing something on a laptop.
I once again steady my breathing, lifting the barrel of my rifle.
Good, I didn’t forget the silencer. It probably won’t help when the glass shatters, but it’s good enough.
Since I couldn’t be bothered to calibrate the scope, the crosshairs intersection would have to be somewhat above where I’m aiming.
Keeping that in mind, I take aim.
A sound akin to a book hitting the ground enters my ears, as I fire.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The recoil knocks the barrel back, but not enough to do anything other than moving the scope from my sight.
Steadying my rifle again, a strange sight enters my eyes.
‘He… didn’t die?’
“Frederick” was laying down, with a shocked expression on his face.
Staring at his computer, and then in my direction.
‘Shit!’
Quickly disassembling my rifle, I make my escape.
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PoV: Frederick
‘Rolling around really helps get rid of the feeling I get whenever I remember that pitiful jacket.’
Getting up, I walk over to my bed, sitting down in a rather comfortable position.
I take my black HP laptop, and set it on my lap.
“Back to writing, I guess.”
I stare at the blank word document for about a minute, before violently laying back, raising my laptop into the air.
“Ah, screw i-!”
A sound exclusive to shattering glass enters my ears, as my laptop goes flying off to one side.
“What the hell?”
Looking at where my laptop went, I could see it there, only with a slight difference.
‘Why the hell is there a hole in my laptop?’
My gaze shifts to the side opposite of which my laptop went flying, and I could see a hole in my glass wall, with many jagged edges.
Below that, shards of glass.
Back to where my laptop was, I could see a hole in the wall.
Deciding it might be best to check what exactly that was, I make my way out of the room.
Finding myself in a very familiar hallway, I continue to walk in the general direction.
Until I make it to the living room.
Falling to my knees as I see what’s on the couch, tears roll down my face.
“M-Mr. Mittens? Mr. Mittens!? MR. MITTENSSSSS!!!!!!!!”
My orange and white tabby cat, with a perpetual smile on his face. As well as a hole in the side of his head.
Even in death, you were the happiest thing I knew.
I finally realized what was going on. The tears stop flowing. I stand up.
“What the fuck!?”
Holy shit, the death threats were real!
What am I going to do!?
I have to call the police!
I take my phone out of my pocket where I always keep it, and emergency dial 911.
“This is 911, what is your emergency?”
“Hello, yeah, someone just tried to shoot me! They killed my cat, too!”
“Sir, please calm down. What is your location?”
Like they fucking need it! I know that they can just track the call!
“Just track the goddamn call!”
I hang up as soon as I say that.
Soon enough, police were sent to my location.
I was questioned, of course.
Then they left.
That was all.
“Ahh, maybe I should just sleep. Yeah, then I’ll wake up, and Mr. Mittens will be back with me. Licking my face to wake me up.”
I go to sleep with orange and white on my mind, hoping this was all a dream.
I find peace sleeping on the couch with Mr. Mittens' corpse.
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Waking up, I feel orange and white fur rubbing against my face.
I quickly shoot up from my position, yelling.
“Mr. Mittens! I knew it was a dream!”
…
…
…
…
Only to find my sister holding my dead cat and rubbing it against my face.
The only thing I can do is fall to my knees crying, while my sister bursts out laughing in a melodious voice.
“What the fuck Jane!? It isn’t funny! Mr. Mittens is dead!”
“So what? Just get a replacement.”
“How am I supposed to replace my friend who was with me for 12 years!?”
“It’s just a cat.”
“He’s not just a cat, Jane! He’s Mr. Mittens!”
Standing up, I snatch Mr. Mittens from Janes hands, and walk to the bathroom.
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I look in the mirror, a dry red substance on my face.
“Shit, my face is covered with blood.”
I start to wash off my face, along with Mr. Mittens body.
After washing off, I feel a vibration in my pocket.
I take out my phone, only to find another death threat.
Maybe… It would be better to stay in the bathroom.
Wait, can’t I just tell that girl to clear up this misunderstanding?
Yeah, I’ll do that.
Another vibration signaling a notification comes from my phone.
“How about I do it tomorrow? That sounds fine.”