He takes a breath to savor the moment.

There.

Break time is over. He stands up and turns back towards where he deposited his rifle. Laying down well before the edge of the cliff he tests the wind. A 3 knot breeze from the rear. Perfect.

He sets the rifle into it's brace and peers through the scope. His target is supposed to be arriving in his penthouse suite at 1430. Still no sign of him, but his mistress doesn't appear concerned. Stopping for groceries? Not likely, this man wants for nothing. Could the agency have tipped him off? He had made his feelings very clear upon leaving... But how could they have found out? He had been so careful.

A flash of colour form his scope. Always distracting yourself with those damn doubts. The woman had just lept into his target's arms wearing a bright red dress.

This could complicate things.

He loads three cartridges into the rifle:

One for the window.

One for the light.

One for him.

The first two are standard FMJ, the last a special polymer blend. Supposed to dissolve completely in stomach acid, but who knows how much of his stomach will be left after a hit from this mother?

Don't get ahead of yourself now.

Every afternoon for three weeks his mark stands in the same place for a few minutes, and tonight has to be the day his bitch tries to surprise him... Fortune smiles on whoever she happens to see, the bold be damned.

They have walked off deeper into the penthouse by now. Another time then, hopefully alone.

What's this? The hatch on the roof swings open, and out steps the mistress, naked as the day she was born. Fun in the sun then?

Do I dare try to reposition? Every day I stay here it gets more and more dangerous. But is it worth missing my one chance?

Fuck it, do it live.

He ejects the first two rounds and chambers the polymer bullet. Three hundred yards shorter range, a full second slower, and impossible to aim in a crosswind, this tech was scrapped by most black ops firms. The only way to make the shot was with a tailwind, just like today. The thermals off the sea would keep the bullet aloft just long enough to reach.

Now or never. He starts counting his heartbeats. One one, two two, one one, two two.

One one.

His target was never an adventurous lover, laying there nearly static while his woman works on top of him.

Two two.

He slows his breathing, timing it to every third beat.

One one.

Breath in.

Two two.

He pulls the trigger to the ready position.

One one.

It's time.

Two.