The ones who watch the Watchers
Description
Then, there are the ones who watch them.
Foreword
He ran.
He hadn't run in a very long time. He hadn't needed to for a very long time. Sharpshooting had been his skill. He was the best, or so he'd liked to brag. His partner had often stated how unlikely that a hothead like him could be such an effective sniper, usually resulting in an epic tickle battle if possible, or at the least, snide snarking across earpieces when they were both supposed to be in hiding.
His partner, whom he'd been with since he'd been old enough to pick up a gun. His partner, who they'd both been hand-picked out and trained from equally tender ages, whom he'd have trusted with his life. That partner now had a gun aimed between his eyes by an unknown assailant, and everything he'd tried to do to help his partner had failed. The assailant seemed to be able to predict his bullets and avoid them with ease, and for the first time in his life, he'd run out of ammo.
He'd only brought the minimum he'd needed for a standard assignment like this. It was supposed to have been a simple assassination after all.
He was getting closer. Close enough that he could begin to see the features of his partner's face, even as harsh they were in the light of the dank street lamps that cast odd shadows onto everything they lit.
It must have been those odd shadows. For even as they both felt death drawing close, scythe aimed for the kill, his partner's eyes had met his, and an expression he could not recognized had crossed those familiar eyes, before they'd turned lifeless the split second the gunshot had sounded.
He heard someone scream as if from far away, not realising that that scream had torn itself from his own throat.
"Youngsaeng!"
~*~
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