In the deathly stillness of the night, a dimly lit mansion stood atop a hill, looking down upon the world.
On the balcony of the second floor, the silhouette of a man gazed into the distance. The faint light from a half-moon illuminated him, revealing his blue tuxedo suit. His hair seemed hastily done, evident of its chaotic state not long ago.
He appeared to be in his mid-to-late sixties, and his eyes held a tired but crazed look.
He stared into the distance, his gaze seeming to pierce beyond the horizon, lost in thought.
It was only when lights came from an approaching car that the man in the tuxedo looked back on his actions, though he regretted them.
It wasn't his fault.
He was merely following the will of Him, for a greater cause.
But why did he still feel so guilty after all this time?
As the sound of the approaching car grew louder, he turned, left the balcony, and headed downstairs.
A few yards to the west, a figure crouched behind a clump of bushes, watched the house intently through the scope of a sniper rifle.
Zayne, dressed completely in black, with the only visible part of his skin being his eyes—cold and glinting—observed the scene.
A black SUV came to a stop at the mansion's entrance, where several guards stood, both inside and outside.
A man stepped out of the car.
He was tall, buff, and bald,with a rough moustache above his lips. His rugged air was unmistakable.
He bent down slightly and opened the passenger seat of the SUV.
The girl who stepped out had short brown hair. She was slender, with an air of maturity, but as soon as her eyes landed on the man standing at the mansion's front door, she lost that composure and sprinted toward him, joy brimming in her big, pearly eyes.
"Dad!" she shouted, flying into the man's embrace.
This moment—a father and daughter reuniting after a long separation, filled with the joy of a human relationship—was the moment Zayne decided to pull the trigger.
Bang!
A loud gunshot shattered the night's silence.
Blood splattered everywhere as the girl, just an arm's length from her father's embrace, stiffened and fell sideways, muscles spasming. A gaping bullet hole, filled with blood, appeared on both sides of her temple.
The man froze, his eyes wide, his brain struggling to process the scene. He could feel the warm blood on his face and see his daughter's twitching body on the ground. But he couldn't understand it at all.
"There's an attacker!"
"Quick, get the boss to safety!"
The guards reacted almost instantly after hearing the gunshot. Some quickly surrounded the man, while others dispersed into the surrounding area, pinpointing the general location of the shot.
Zayne reloaded his sniper rifle and aimed higher. The mansion's security system had already detected him, and a large searchlight was aimed in his direction, blinding him and making it hard to see through the scope.
He adjusted the focus, ignoring the light.
Zayne looked down at his target.
The man was being escorted into the mansion, and although there were several guards around him, he wasn't that hard to target.
He had a shot, but with the guards, it wasn't a clear one.
He could risk it and take an 70-30 chance of hitting his target, or miss in the commotion.
But Zayne discarded that idea.
He had a mission. A mission to take down two targets. One had been dealt with; the other would be more troublesome, but he would take care of it nonetheless.
What he knew was that he would take two lives tonight—no more, no less.
Zayne took a breath, got up, and abandoned his rifle.
He drew the gun from his holster.
It was a .50 AE Desert Eagle. It wasn't particularly suited for this kind of job, but Zayne couldn't see himself using anything else.
After all, this gun had a lot of history behind it.
With that, Zayne sprinted into the valleys and forested area a few meters away, disappearing from the range of the searchlight.
"Get him! Don't let him escape!" the guards shouted, their voices growing louder as they rushed toward the area Zayne had just been in.
After running for a while, one of the men stumbled upon a weapon on the ground.
"Boss! I found something!" he called out.
The rest of the guards gathered around him.
"It's a sniper rifle," one of them said.
"It seems he abandoned it in his haste to escape. Hmph! Spread out, search the area—he can't have gotten far," the leader sneered.
"Yes, sir!"
The Gerald House was situated strategically, with numerous ways to get lost or trapped in the surrounding terrain. The guards, familiar with the layout, spread out, while some stayed behind to guard the house perimeter.
Zayne hid in the shadows, his emotionless eyes observing the guards' movements.
Seeing the rifle he'd left, they had committed a fatal mistake. They assumed he'd abandoned it in his panic to escape, but they failed to consider that he might have left it there deliberately to trick them.
Zayne couldn't blame them. He had guided their thoughts, after all.
By now, the guards were thoroughly dispersed, just enough for Zayne to pick off a target.
---
Randy slowly moved forward, the light from his rifle sweeping the surroundings.
He was the newest recruit on the team, and this was his first high-profile job, so he was quite nervous. Despite his anxiety, he was doing well—just following orders, spreading out with the rest of his teammates.
His training had made him accustomed to operating under stressful situations, but he never thought his first job would involve tracking down a killer. It was a little nerve-racking for him, though his nerves were gradually calming. The darkness of the valley and the quiet of the night provided a sense of tranquility and calmness.
It was at that moment that a twig snapped behind him.
Randy spun around, his nerves instantly on edge, and his body took a defensive stance.
He quickly shone the light of his gun around the area.
There was nothing there—just a knife.
Randy's grip on the gun relaxed as he heaved a sigh of relief, but in the next moment, his heart stopped.
"Is that a kni—"
Before he could finish his thought, a shadowy figure appeared to Randy's right, and a devastating blow landed on his head.
The strike was so powerful that, even with the protection from the thick fabric of his mask, Randy passed out instantly.
Zayne's cold eyes stared down at the unconscious Randy as he swiftly disabled the light on the rifle.
It's only a matter of time before the others come searching for him. I need to hurry.
Zayne thought as he quickly undressed Randy, stripping him of his gear. He put on Randy's outfit and mask, noting that it was tight but functional.
Comfort wasn't a necessity in this line of work.
He then hid the unconscious man and moved in the direction from which he had come.
There was still much work to do.