A nondescript black sedan with tinted windows pulled up a few blocks away from a construction site. A young man in his mid twenties stepped out, dressed in a nice black suit with black leather driving gloves. He walked around to the passenger side of his car and pulled out an ebony leather briefcase and a blue construction hard hat. He briskly walked towards the construction site, placing the hard hat over his auburn hair, covering his sea green eyes in shadow.

He didn’t speak to any of the construction workers and they didn’t acknowledge him either, assuming he was one of the many architects working on the new skyscraper that was being built. He took the elevator to the 21st floor which was abandoned but he didn’t seem to mind. He made his way to the eastern part of the building, counting doors until he found the room he was looking for. Oddly, the only piece of furniture on the whole floor was a table. Since the building was far from finished it was strange that there was furniture at all. Again, the man didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. In fact, it was exactly what he was expecting.

The table was pushed up against the cutout that had been made for a window but no glass had been installed yet. He took his hard hat off and placed his briefcase on the table popping it open as he did so. Instead of architect plans his briefcase was filled with foam, protecting the disassembled sniper rifle in his briefcase.

With practiced ease he snapped and twisted the pieces together, the rifle fully assembled in less than 60 seconds. He twisted the silencer into place on the end of the barrel but he knew it wasn’t necessary. No one would hear the shot over the sound of the construction. Even if they did, they would need a second shot to figure out his location, and there wouldn’t be a second shot. There never was, he never missed. That’s why he could command such a large sum for his services.

Checking his watch, he was right on time, he laid out on the table, looking down the scope of his rifle. He was looking for a woman, he’d been told she would be wearing an obnoxiously yellow jacket. His sights were trained on the entrance/exit of a secured office building. He waited for his target patiently. He didn’t have to wait long, she soon emerged from the spinning glass doors.

His crosshairs were lined up with her forehead, she wouldn’t feel a thing, dead before her body would even start to fall. He placed his finger tentatively on the trigger when he saw her face. His finer immediately released the trigger as he took a harder look at her.

He knew her. He doubted she would recognize him after all these years but he would know her anywhere. She had been his best friend in High School. And now she was in danger. He recalled a promise he had made her when her first boyfriend had dumped her, he would always protect her.

Without a second thought he disassembled the rifle and placed it back in his briefcase. Putting the hard hat back on he headed back down to the ground floor. He practically ran to his car, speeding towards the woman he knew to be in grave danger. He was likely not the only one hired to kill her. He jumped the curve and came to a screeching halt merely feet from her when a shot rang out, blocked by his car and it’s armored plating and bullet proof windows. He opened the passenger door and yelled out to her, “Get in!” When she hesitated he continued. “Get in or don’t! But if you don’t you’ll be dealing with these guys on your own.”