It had been a long night for the assassin. A memory best recounted at another time perhaps but for now Hamish stood vigilant watch over the witch’s clinic. He had followed her from a distance that morning from her flat to the clinic uncertain of where he fit in the plans of angels and demons. The man in the dark suit had called him immortal but Hamish simply could not wrap his mind around that concept. Immortality went against the very grain of Hamish’s work and training.<br/><br/>500 meters from the clinic there was a hollowed bird roost, dormant of the feathery residents that at one time sang here. It smelled of mildew and age but that did not touch Hamish as he kept his private watch. He felt a tug that he denied to be in the clinic with her, but prudence kept him far for the time being. There was still far too much information for him to process. The ugly deaths of the three soldiers had brought back a measure of the assassin and quelled a portion of the rage that hammered at the gates.<br/><br/>A spark remained, however, and no amount of breathing exercises would quiet the furious demon. A thought of Chaya, broken and beaten, her large eyes filled with tears and confusion, the spark would flare and it became a struggle for Hamish to control it. ‘Breathe it down’ he would tell himself, and in doing so, found how he could keep the rage at a simmer. But the reckoning was far from over.<br/><br/>Hamish watched through the scope of his rifle as a small boy ran inside the clinic and exited shortly after. Most likely a courier, Hamish figured, he had seen other children sliding notes into her pockets before. Hamish did not consider this odd, she was a major part of this clinic and he assumed she would get correspondence from many places. However, seeing her usher the clinic clear put him on alert.<br/><br/>His vantage point was not ideal, he could watch the front door easily enough and some of the street but at this distance he needed his scope to make out anything definitive. He looked to see if there was anything to that would open his vantage point but unless he wanted to get closer, there was little to aid him. He was not ready to chance getting closer yet so he continued watching through his scope.<br/><br/>Not much longer after Isolde had ushered a few people out, the tall blonde woman was knocking on the door. Isolde let her inside the clinic and Hamish decided it was time to learn the identity of the woman. He had seen her too many times and Hamish did not give much credence to coincidence.<br/><br/>The streets suddenly exploded with activity as soldiers appeared in front of the clinic. There was the blonde man from the night at the hotel and he seemed to be giving orders. He shouted something that didn’t reach Hamish at his distance and Hamish watched as the doors seemed to blow open, scattering three of the soldiers in its path. Hamish moved his scope through as much of the scene as he could, ready to open fire but unsure of where to start. It seemed the blonde man in charge would be the most likely starting point but Hamish could not squeeze the trigger until he had a better idea of how many soldiers were down there.<br/><br/>His rifle allowed him 5 shots, he had a hand gun and two knives but he had not packed extra ammunition. A mistake he could only shrug against and mark off as being too caught up in the recent revelations. To make matters worse the Kar 98k, while amazingly accurate, had taken a decline in power. Clean shots were required from a distance over 400 yards to kill a man and at 1000 would require a headshot or a mass shot where there were no heavy clothing. Hamish had other rifles that were far more powerful and much better for this situation but walking around with one would raise questions.<br/><br/>There was no doubt in his mind that he could make 5 head shots from here but training went against that. A shot to the chest, either pierce the heart or lung, was a kill shot. No doctor would get there in time to prevent death. Hamish made his plans, 5 shots with the rifle which he could than abandon right there in the empty bird house, then he would make his way on foot to her side. If he was immortal, now would most likely be the best test.<br/><br/>Then Hamish swung his scope back to the door and his rage became an inferno. Only the tightest margin of self control prevented him from just squeezing the trigger right then. Hamish found the fourth member of the night of Chaya’s beating. A man who had the power to stop it and only stood by and laughed. Why he suddenly cared was simply added to the pile of unanswered questions he would need to sort through.<br/><br/>Rage, unbridled and new brought silent tears to the eyes of the assassin who nearly screamed in frustration! He could not work like this! These damn feelings were weakening him! He needed to breathe, to regain mastery of himself! But this man had to die and Hamish would not let another opportunity go by.<br/><br/>Once Hamish made the decision, it seemed like his rage responded with a surprising obedience. It let him work, allowed him to focus, and even sharpened his sense. This would be no quick death. The man would not suffer like the other three but Hamish acknowledged his skill with a rifle. There were many ways for a man to die slowly and ugly with the assassin’s form of a scalpel blade. It would require a perfect shot, a shot only two or three others in the history of humans could probably make. Hamish was one of those people, and deep down, he knew it.<br/><br/>His rifle came up, he took aim, and he breathed. Time swirled to a stand still for him as he hunted through the 20 inches of the scopes viewing area. The rifle ceased to exist on its own becoming an extension of the assassin’s arms, flags lining the streets went silent, and numbers danced through his head to collide in the barest fraction of a turn one way or another. He aimed high allowing for gravity and the slightest compensation for the spin of the earth. Hamish squeezed the heavy trigger and reawakened the world with the crack of the rifle.<br/><br/>The bullet left the rifle traveling roughly 800 meters per second, which meant it would cover the needed distance in about 3/4ths of a second. It struck Officer Fabiano where the collar bone and neck join, traveled through the small amount of tissue with ease before ripping through his left lung and shattering the 6th rib as it stopped from the impact with the bone. Officer Fabiano fell as blood poured from the gaping wound in his neck. It would take only a minute for his lung to fill with blood, leaking air into the cavity, and collapsing. The bullet would have shredded the lung completely. Officer Fabiano’s last few breaths on this earth would be one of extreme pain as he slowly suffocated in a few raspy, wheezing attempts to draw air through the well of blood.<br/><br/>Hamish felt the rage leak away in satisfaction. It was a perfect shot.<br/><br/>“For you, Chaya,” Hamish whispered to the still quiet winds. He put his eye back to the scope, ready to go back to work, carving Isolde an exit if need be.