This is the central square of District D3.
Angel had been lying in wait in this bustling area for half a month. Kneeling on two tall wooden crates, she observed the central square through her sniper scope from a ventilation window.
The room was dark and silent. She remained motionless, her black sniper suit rendering her nearly invisible in the space, almost indistinguishable from the statues in the square. Only her almond-shaped eyes occasionally flickered.
Angel – this was the codename given by the organization. It was ironic, as her hands had never failed to send people to heaven. Insiders knew that among snipers, besides the one codenamed “Death,” the other most terrifying sniper bore this gentle, beautiful moniker.
A deep male voice came through the communicator, “Outdoor temperature 26°C, wind force level 2, good visibility, humidity 43%…”
“A perfect sniping environment!” Angel silently praised.
At quarter past nine, the square became increasingly crowded.
“All units, target approaching within 5000 meters. Over.” Another voice quickly reminded through the communicator.
Angel made a final check that everything was ready, her right hand, gloved in black, resting on the trigger.
Vehicles could only move slowly through the busy district, taking nearly three minutes to enter the shooting range.
Angel fixed her gaze through the scope on a white Bugatti.
This time, there was no reminder through the communicator. Angel estimated the distance to the target at over 2000 meters.
In another skyscraper.
The commander-in-chief sat before the monitor wearing a headset, his expression calm. Angel’s highest record was 1977.5 meters, and the conditions then weren’t as favorable as now. Barring accidents, her kill rate was over 90%, which was one of the main reasons the organization assigned her to this mission.
The car stopped at the entrance of the building, and the door opened.
At this crucial moment, Angel’s breathing remained as steady as ever.
Through the scope, she saw a middle-aged man step out of the car. He wore a well-tailored dark gray pinstripe suit that accentuated his good figure. He looked only about 40, but according to the files, he was nearly 50.
Angel’s sniper rifle locked onto his head.
She sensed a flash of light from the opposite side. Immediately, the anxious voice of the assistant shooter came through the communicator, “Enemy sniper detected. Angel exposed.”
Then came silence. The commander-in-chief issued no orders.
Now, if she jumped off the crates immediately, she could ensure her safety. But Angel seemed oblivious to the assistant’s words. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the target through the scope, like a hawk hunting its prey.
Through the scope, she saw the target ascending the steps under the escort of bodyguards.
Just ten more meters and he’d be out of the sniping range!
Target locked.
Angel quickly calculated his walking speed and the bullet’s velocity. With the target in motion, she had to accurately fire the bullet to where the target was predicted to be in a few seconds.
Over the past half month, she had mentally rehearsed and calculated this scenario countless times. A second later, she pulled the trigger without hesitation. The silenced sniper rifle noiselessly fired a bullet.
Simultaneously, there was a loud crash in front of her.
She saw a bullet shatter the frosted glass of the ventilation window, coming straight at her.
A sudden chill on her forehead.
The voices of the commander-in-chief and the assistant shooter sounded simultaneously through the communicator.
“Target hit. Retreat.”
“Angel, are you okay? Over!”
Angel fell from the crates. Through her swaying vision, she glimpsed a patch of blue sky through the shattered ventilation window as her sight gradually darkened.
This was a perfect snipe, a perfect ending to her life. At least, since she began carrying out missions at sixteen, she had never failed.
They say people recall many beautiful memories when dying, but her mind was blank at that moment. Only that patch of blue sky was deeply imprinted in her heart.
In the skyscraper, the commander-in-chief slowly exhaled, remaining silent for a long time before lighting a cigarette.
He hadn’t seen the scene but sensed she was gone.
The organization assigned Angel to this mission not only for her excellent sniping skills but also for another important reason – she was a perfect killing machine. As long as the order wasn’t retracted, she would complete the mission without any psychological barriers, even if her life was threatened.
The man’s slender fingers held the cigarette as he issued the order in a deep voice, “Bring back Angel.”