Not much action. Just wanted to write something. Will probably continue this later between bits and pieces of Genesis. Additions to Idea Exploration will continue to be short and updates will probably remain slow for Genesis until I get a good schedule going with college and life.

The chapter is just as the title says. Nothing much, but it will likely be continued.

“Unit Eagle, are you in position? I repeat, are you in position? The target will will be hot. E.T.A. 15 minutes.” The earpiece I am wearing squawks my team leader’s voice in the regular staticy tone.

As per the usual, I depress the comm button next to my chin and respond.

“Unit Eagle is in position. Waiting for the target now.” I am a sniper. My job is to kill people.

“Affirmative. Maintain radio silence unless necessary. Over and out.”

I kill people. One shot, one life. As simple as that. Politicians, drug lords, soldiers, men, women, children, dogs. You name it, I’ve practically shot them all, but I do my job. Oh, and I happen to be damn good at it too.

One of the things this job offers is a stable income. Another thing it offers is time. Too much time. Sitting there in a roost, eye on the scope, there is time.

Time. Time to think. Time to ponder. Too much time.

I’ve been doing this job for quite some time now that it’s gotten to the point of doubting my own humanity.

When I pull the trigger, all I feel is recoil. No matter who it is or what gender they are, when I pull the trigger, the reaper claims another soul.

Sometimes I have doubts. Sometimes I think too much.

But he has family. It doesn’t matter. Push it aside. Do the job.

I feel pity for my target. It doesn’t matter. Push it aside. Do the job.

Do I really think this is for the best? It doesn’t matter. Push it aside. Do the job.

Maybe I’m heartless. Maybe I’m broken. To me, it doesn’t matter. Push it aside. Do the job.

The light in these eyes has long been extinguished. The day it happened, I hesitated to pull the trigger and all that was important to me was lost. That is why I don’t care. That is why I am broken. That is why I have discarded what is left of my humanity.

I’ve become a tool of death. The invisible bullet. The reaper with a rifle.

Breaking me from my thoughts, the radio crackles to life once again.

“Unit Eagle, target sighted at 1 o’clock. 1200 yds and coming at you. Open top tan camouflaged jeep. Your target is in the passenger seat wearing a large sunhat. I do not have to mention that you are not to kill the other passengers. Pack up and rendezvous at the usual area when you are done.”

“Yes sir.” Taking up my scope again, I raise my L42 Enfield to rest from my prone position. The job this time is located somewhere in some arid region where the dry air carries fine sand over everything. Focusing through my scope, I spot the target.

Fine golden hair billowing behind beneath her hat, she is perhaps in her teens or early twenties, the distance obscures the details. Her driver is a burly bodyguard concealing enough heat under his suit to be noticed from my position. The other passengers in the back are likewise as young as the target.

One thousand, one hundred yards. I take a breath and align my sights.

One thousands yards. I adjust for distance and other conditions.

Nine hundred fifty yards. I take exhale and take the shot.

Through the scope, a fine red blossom appears for a moment. The flower of life, nipped at the bud and blossomed into a crimson flower in but a moment.

Did she have a family? Did she love? Is there any to mourn her passing?

It doesn’t matter. Push it aside. I did the job.

Today I killed another target. Tomorrow I shall be flying back home to America.