The key was deep breathing. Wait for that moment between heartbeats, where everything is perfectly still, all while riding the edge, the technique describing keeping the trigger on his .50 caliber bolt action sniper rifle at the point right before the pin drops, unleashing a twisting malestrom of steel, hollow-pointed fury.
His target was inbound.
One week he has been behind enemy lines undetected and his list of primary and secondary targets was dwindleing. His camo-steel armor blending so perfectly into the terrain, the bugs crawling on him couldn't tell the difference.
The target was now in position.
Easily he released the trigger and pulled back the bolt, releasing the hollow point round, and swiftly replaceing it with an armor peircing one. His psy-ops program in his cyber-mind kicked in, and an unearthly calm settled over him.
Making ever so slight, yet vital adjustments with a praticed ease, he started timing his breaths. He replaced his finger on the trigger and slowly pulled back. At this moment something stuck as odd in his mind.
He was like a god, and like a god, he was about to smite an evil war instigater. He was content.
The target moved into his chair inside the building, the perfect spot form the shooters angle.
One last breath, and his finger eased the rest of the way bad. The shooter and anyone else within a 20 meter radius heard a rifle report a fire, but past that a muffled sound like somebody punching a pillow.
The round traveled through the window, and struck its victom into the pupil of his right eye. The head exploded, leaving a mess of gore all around the room. His mission was accomplished, it was time to pack up and go home.
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