Supernova

Prologue

You watch the clock tick away, second by second, minute by minute. Never once has it crossed your mind which second you will die.

—-

The vintage, old watch that was wrapped around Michael's wrist ticked silently towards 1 PM. Michael watched the parking lot in front of him, awaiting for his job to come.

Up on the rooftop, the wind was slight but will play a big factor in Michael's shot. The tip of his jet black sniper rifle was barely visible as it pointed downwards at the parking lot.

Michael was awaiting for a gentlemen by the name of Stefano Leon, a current courier for an international gang, to show up. Taking him out would upset the chains of drug dealing big time, considering Stefano was one of the largest suppliers in the city.

Just as the watch hit 1 PM, a shiny, reflective black SUV came pulling up into the parking lot. It was all customized, completed with pure gold trimming, golden rims, and pitch black windows. He watched as it parked, near where the tip of the sniper rifle aimed. Michael only had to wait for the perfect time to strike now.

He had noticed quite of few cars parking over the last hour he has been waiting, but barely any left. Considering this was a laundromat they were at, either they had a lot of clothes, or they were waiting for Stefano, like Michael.

A Latino, middle-aged man stepped out of the SUV, carrying a white box that had 'American Mail' on it. An obvious cover up.

Michael tested the wind. About 4 MPH from the North. Distance was 90 yards. Gripping on to the sniper rifle tighter, he slightly moved the tip of it, following Stefano carefully. Even though there were quite a few guards, none would suspect the fact that there was a high powered rifle aimed at their boss's head.

There were some words between Stefano and a man in another black car, much similar to the SUV Stefano emerged from, were exchanged. A bag of money was passed through the open window.

It's now or never, Michael. Michael ran through his head. Inhaling deeply, he steadily held his breath and closed one eye.

Peering through the scope, he saw everything enlarged.

He heard his heart thumping, telling him it was time to take the shot. Since there was wind, he needed to aim up North a little bit. Aiming directly at the head of Stefano, his finger danced on the trigger.

POP! The bullet flew out of the chamber and within a split-second, it hit the target. Michael squeezed his eyes tight and retreated, army crawling away from the ledge, bringing the sniper with him.

There was lots of shouting, murmuring, and panic behind Michael, down in the parking lot. He knew Stefano was laying there on the cement lot, dead. Gone forever. Blood splattered on the ground and the expensive black car he was standing in front of.

Lately, Michael has been feeling more... remorseful to each kill he takes. To each shot he attempts. When he first started this job five years ago, he was merciless and did his job correctly and got paid handsomely. But now... he was still paid handsomely but has been feeling a little regretful.