• Jackson twitched, the sniper rifle in his hands was off balance. He sighed, and held his sniper up with one hand, brushing away some dust and rubble with the other. He placed it back down after adjusting the bipod and looked though the sights. He saw perfectly. His target? Caucasian. Six foot three, dark hair, blue eyes and carrying a briefcase.

    The dark haired teenager lined up on the slowy walking man, and exhaled long and slow, before some static came up on the microphone attatched to his ear and leading to his lips.

    "Hold fire - Target talking to someone." His spotter - about sixty feet below him and on the ground.

    The boy slid his finger away from the trigger and held it flat along the side of the bolt action sniper, keeping his left eye closed, his right looking down the sight. "Hurry up, he'll be out of my line soon and i'll have to displace." He said quietly, his smooth and soft voice flowing into the microphone.

    The Caucasian male - his target - was on the phone. He zoomed in, and noticed the phone was dark on his ear, and the man's left thumb was covering the microphone. "Umm.... Rain, he's not on the phone." The boy said, momentarily pulling his eyes away from the sights and looking down in the direction of his spotter.

    "Take the shot - He's talking to a contact!" Said Rain, his voice cold in the microphone.

    Jackson nodded, and closed his left eye, putting his right a few centimeters from the scope so he could see through it. He adjusted his sights, keeping the crosshairs lined on the man's head. He watched him - and squeezed his trigger. The silencer muffled most of the shot, and adding on the intense amount of talking around the area, would be impossible to hear.

    Only then did things start to screw up. Jackson's eyes widened - as well as his Spotters', sixty feet below him. Someone walked right in the path of the bullet, and that was when everything went to hell. The bullet was heavy enough and the girl was at a good angle so the would still kill the man. He dragged his eyes from the scope, and watched in shock as the heavy bullet ripped through the shoulder of the girl and smashed into the man's upper chest.

    "Killshot. Get out, Jackson!"Snapped his spotter. Jackson did as told, quickly dismanteling his sniper rifle and putting it into a case, which in turn, was put into his back pack. He ran, swinging onto a ladder and sliding down it, and after a few minutes, was resting on the floor of the building. He was still in slight shock as his spotter and their team leader, nicknamed Overwatch, approached him. No words were said, and grim expressions were exchanged before the men walked to a car, climbing in and heading back to base.

    "Jackson.. You know the penalty for something like this.."

    Jackson nodded weakly, and his spotter patted him encouragingly on his back. "Retirement."