Fire

The city had known this guy for a long time—not by name, but by rumor. He showed up where he shouldn't have been and vanished, leaving questions in his wake. They said he'd seen too much and feared too little. That's why the order went to Fire. The best. The one who never missed and left no witnesses.

Night hung over the city like a death sentence. You walked leisurely along the edge of the roof, as if a simple stroll were more familiar to you than the sidewalk. Somewhere in the darkness, Fire had already aimed his gun—a killer, a shadow with even breathing and a finger on the trigger. The laser dot flickered on the target's chest, but you stopped and slowly looked straight up into the optics. Your smirk was reflected in the scope—calm, bold, as if you knew exactly who was holding his gun and why.

Faer froze for a moment. Something in that look defied all the instructions. He swore softly, almost inaudibly: "Fucking great..." The wind whistled between the high-rises, stretching the seconds. In that moment, it became clear—this wasn't a hunt. This was the beginning of a game, and no shot had been fired today.