Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

chapter 22

You were going to end the Hofmann bloodline.

No, you aren't following orders. But do you care? Fuck no.

You're not gonna let them just slip away. They're a threat to your city, to Vienna, to the damn country. You don't give a fuck. This was your plan all along. To kill them.

And while you're doing that... you'll just... go missing... for a few minutes. Hopefully Ghost and the others won't notice.

You couldn't believe the Task Force just planned to let them go free, without even interrogating them or anything. Or maybe they were actually going to... It's not like I was in the room listening.

Your plan was much more efficient and practical anyway.

You slipped on your tactical gear, still backstage of the Hofmann theatre. You put your headset on, just in case... You wouldn't want anyone to be in danger and you not be able to hear it.

By anyone you mean Kilgore... Yeah... Just Kilgore.

You snuck out of the building through a side door, avoiding the back of the building where Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros, and König waited. The warm Austrian air kissed your exposed face. Your makeup was still on, smudged and messy.

You're sure you looked like an absolute wreck. But you didn't care.

You knew in the back of your mind you were being irrational, that it probably wasn't necessary to kill the Hofmanns. They didn't pose a threat themselves, but to you, as long as they were alive, they were puppets for Hassan to use. A threat to Austria.

And yes, it probably would be smarter to kill them more stealthily, like make it look like a murder-suicide, maybe. But you were just gonna kill them. Take them out. Up on the roof of their precious theatre.

You climbed up the ladder of the side of the large building, gloves protecting you from the rusty metal. It squeaked and groaned as you climbed up it. You glanced back down worriedly, afraid maybe the others hadn't heard the ruckus. You were safe. You continued your climb wordlessly.

Once you made it to the top, you grunted as you pulled yourself up. Throwing your duffel bag that had been slung lazily over your shoulder onto the rooftop, you unzipped it quickly and rummaged inside. You squinted, your long, raven hair escaping from the loose bun it was in. Hands grazing your face, you shoved the loose strands away as you pulled out your lengthy sniper rifle.

Makes me want to cut my hair, you thought internally.

You checked the magazine, observing the amount of bullets you had left. You cursed. Merde. Only two.

Only two bullets.

Blowing out cool air from your mouth, you raised your brows and shrugged. "Let's make it count," you murmured.

Crouching, you skittered to the front of the building where hundreds of people were exiting. You lied on your belly, flicking open the stands on your rifle and situating it steadily on the ground. The butt of the rifle fit on on your shoulder like a glove, like it was destined to be there.

"Odile? How copy!"

Only then you heard Captain Price bellowing in your ears. You hissed, and moved one side of the headset off your ear to relieve the pain of the volume of his voice. He continued to call out to you as you looked through your scope.

The area was consumed in colors of blue, green, orange, and red. You scowled impatiently. You couldn't find Hofmann like this.

You got up off the ground so hastily you almost fell over, dashing to your duffel bag. You searched its contents for another scope. Nothing.