2 WAITING AFTER THE RAIN

< Athaire

UTC+2 0300 AM

Rooftop on construction site>

The last drops of rain dripped down like heavy tears, while the storm moved away into the distance. A soft humming sound filled the cold, wet air. Puddles reflected the moonlight wherever the light managed to penetrate through the dominating clouds. Leather boots sank into the mirror image and sent ripples across the surface as he approached the edge of the rooftop.

One Shot pulled back the hoodie from the head, revealing a plain dark cap underneath. It wasn't just any old cap. With a tap on the rim, the integrated smart glasses would slide down from the top. The hoodie and jeans along with the boots completed his rugged and somewhat plain appearance. He wasn't one to be remembered in the streets, but that was part of the plan. The only thing that was standing out like a sore thump was the violin case strapped to his back. It hadn't been his choice, but the cover story fit his past. And finding a container large enough for a sniper gun was neither an easy task nor had it been his to take care of.

Still humming softly, he laid down the case on the roof air vent and snapped open the locks. An assembly of metal components greeted him, and with years of practice, he swiftly transformed the parts into a complete, slick-looking gun. Light and lean, he turned the weight to point towards the street below as he took a casual glimpse on his watch strapped around his gloves. Plenty of time left. His eyes drifted up to take in the nightscape before him.

In the far back, he could make out the shapes of downtown skyscrapers, rising until the mist blurred out their shapes. The sounds of the city sounded distant but familiar. This was where he had grown up. This was his city. He hadn't thought that he would come back to his birthplace this way. Too many things had changed, and the brooding sense of nostalgia he felt rising within was confusing. The corner of his mouth turned upwards as he thought about tomorrow. Just once, that would be enough. What kind of person would she be?

Lightning struck down far behind him, illuminating a scene that could have come out of a horror movie. A hand reaching up the edge of the building to grab the side rail of the emergency ladder as if it belonged to a zombie who had just dug itself out of its own grave. One Shot tensed up. While he hadn't seen anything, something was wrong, his sixth sense was telling him so. Where was the threat coming from? An almost unnoticeable squeak. The next second, he unlocked the safety and was pointing his gun at the ladder landing on the opposite side of the rooftop.

One wrong move and he would have to add another casualty to his report later. Further noise reached his ears, sounding like some grunting, and he raised his free hand and tapped on the cap. Immediately, the glasses covered his eyes and allowed him the necessary night vision to make out the figure in the dark on the opposite side of the roof. At first, it looked like some twisted ghostly zombie that was now muttering curses below his breath. While the person could be dangerous, there were no apparent weapons and the person was seemingly busier with himself than anything else. Swiftly, he hid the gun behind his back, however, keeping the safety off.

"Who are you?" He finally bellowed out and the figure propped itself up. It was a woman. With one foot on the rooftop and the other on the raised edge, her head shot up straight but would stay still only for a second – in the next, it tipped over to one side, her hair swaying to the side, revealing a pair of crooked glasses over her nose bridge.

"Me?" Her voice reached him. She sounded confused, but then her features twisted into a crazed smile, her eyes opening wide and she wound one hand around the rail and slapped the other on her chest. "I am Angel!"