The main hall of the banquet was spectacular. Red silk rugs lined the authentic, polished wooden floors of the building. Chandeliers lines the ceiling periodically, giving off a warm, golden glow to the hall. It had a marvelous way of peeling the features of age off of the anonymous attendants - making Ben's job just that much harder.


With each glance from person to person, his temper rose slightly. Annoyance came quickly to him, and all he was thinking was, "Where is the target?". He should have spotted him by now.




However, that's exactly what the target wanted.


Through the faint green hue of his goggles' vision lenses, he tagged Ben with a light square. The killer set up camp, rustling the large rifle out of his pack and hoisting up into its stationary position. In no more than ten seconds, he was ready. He took a deep breath.




Frustration broiling, Bond discreetly stomped over to the window. He needed some fresh air.


"All of these spoiled bourgeoisie are getting on my nerves", he muttered.


"Would you like some wine, sir?" asked a young man.


"Sure, why not", he grumbled. He reached out to the roaming waiter and smoothly grabbed one of the wine glasses sitting atop the offered tray. "Now leave me be".


Ben took a sip, and could already feel his nerves slipping away, into the abyss of his mind. "I guess there are some perks to this job, after all". The sharp-dressed man took another gulp of wine, draining it halfway, and watched the rest of the world from one of the hall's many windows.



A quiet, yet sharp noise cracked from outside of the glass pane. Bond could feel the pain already, seeping from his right shoulder and stemming to his torso. Wine, interlaced with blood, coughed itself out of his mouth. His vision began to blur, then fade, until finally tunneling into darkness.


He died without a sound, without a single giveaway that could have alerted the rest of the rich and oblivious. His body leaned on the window sill, his hand loosely hoisted above his wine glass.




Noting a job well done, the silhouette slid his sniper out of position, packing it back into the back-bag. He marked the next target's location on his goggle's built-in GPs unit, and calmly left off to the next location. "Boss is gonna' get a kick outta this one". On the spot of his set-up, he left a calling card, emblazoned with a man's hood and labeled, 'STRANGER'.

It wouldn't be until the party ended - the morning - for  Benjamin Bond's body to be discovered, with his heart still.




~ GoldvsSilver