The first thing that caught me off guard was the bullet.
The damn thing whizzed past my head, and I barely managed to dodge it.
It buried itself in the ground where I had just been standing, and I couldn't help but scowl.
I looked up, eyes narrowing as I scanned the rooftops.
Who the hell was trying to ruin my day now?
Sure enough, my gaze landed on a figure crouching on a rooftop, rifle in hand. Clad in black, of course.
In an instant, I took in all the details. The sniper's posture was disciplined—his knees bent just enough to remain balanced while holding the rifle steady. His gear, though not quite military-grade, was definitely high-end.
The body armor seemed reinforced with lightweight ceramic plates, enough to stop small caliber rounds. His mask covered his entire face, but his eyes—visible through the scope—betrayed an intent focus, a sharpness that told me he wasn't just some low-level thug.
