Logic

A figure wearing an unconventional, high-tech metal helmet with a strange face covering and a single red scope, dropped from the sky, as if conjured out of thin air. The helmet's eerie design, paired with the man's sleek, high-tech suit, immediately made him look both intimidating and otherworldly. The security guards stationed on the roof of the FBI headquarters were stunned, frozen in disbelief. The sky was clear just moments ago, and now, this strange figure appeared. For a few seconds, nobody moved, as if time itself had paused.

"Hey, buddy," the man said nonchalantly as he landed in a half-squat, standing up straight with a confident posture. He casually waved at the security team, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Tough job, isn't it?"

His tone, casual and mocking, seemed to break the guards out of their daze. One of them, wide-eyed, snapped into action and fumbled for his weapon. "Don't move!" he shouted, but the command was already futile.

Deadshot, as if anticipating the slow reactions of the guards, had already begun moving. His body moved fluidly, launching into a sprint across the rooftop. The other guards, finally shaken into action, began firing, but their shots were wild, uncoordinated.

Bullets whizzed past Deadshot, who barely seemed to acknowledge them. He zigzagged across the rooftop with precision and grace, dodging their gunfire like a seasoned parkour athlete. He used every available object—air vents, satellite dishes, and rooftop units—as cover, making himself almost impossible to hit. One stray bullet struck a water tank, causing it to burst open and send a torrent of water spraying everywhere. The water shot out like arrows, soaking the security guards and adding to their chaos as they struggled to aim through the deluge.

Despite their best efforts, the guards' shots missed their target time and time again, as Deadshot effortlessly evaded every attempt to stop him. His movements were sharp, and almost inhuman, as though he were toying with them. After what felt like an eternity to the guards, Deadshot reached the edge of the roof.

Without breaking stride, he leaped backward into the open air. The motion was audacious and daring, his body suspended in a backward dive as he glanced back at the bewildered security guards. As he fell, he made a mocking gesture—saluting them with two fingers—before vanishing over the edge.

One of the guards rushed to the edge of the building, looking down in disbelief. What he saw was even more astonishing. Mid-fall, Deadshot had fired a zip line from a device on his wrist, its claw gripping onto a protruding ledge of the adjacent building. With incredible precision, he swung like a pendulum, using the momentum to crash through a window on a lower floor, disappearing into the structure below.

"He's in the building!" one of the guards shouted, breaking the stunned silence. The remaining guards rushed down the stairs, trying to reach the room Deadshot had entered. But by the time they got there, it was too late. He had vanished without a trace, leaving only broken glass and confusion behind.

The incident quickly reached the FBI's command center, where the situation was already chaotic. The news was grim: Director Linton had just been targeted in an assassination attempt.

An hour later, a team of forensic experts descended on the scene, conducting ballistic analyses and reconstructing the events that had unfolded. What they discovered was mind-blowing.

The red-clad gunman had somehow sniped at the director's office from an adjacent building, through several walls, floors, and obstacles.

The most astonishing part was the bullet itself. Despite the difficulty of the shot, the bullet showed incredible power and monstrous penetration. It had pierced multiple layers of reinforced concrete and glass before coming to a stop.

But it wasn't just the weapon that was extraordinary—it was the shot itself. The distance, the obstructions, and the precision required for such a shot would make even the most seasoned military sniper balk. Even modern infrared imaging would struggle to make this shot, considering the number of walls and layers of people in the way.

After careful analysis, the experts concluded that the man in red—the one the guards had encountered—was none other than the infamous gunman from Black Sun, the Scarlet Reaper, a legendary assassin whose skills were said to be unmatched.

But the investigation didn't stop there. When reviewing the crime scene, the forensic team discovered something even more incredible. The Scarlet Reaper hadn't been able to set up a proper sniper position due to the presence of the guards. So, instead of taking a traditional sniper's stance, he had opted for a seemingly impossible method.

He had used his zip line.

According to the experts' reconstruction, the shooter had fired his zip line to grab the roof of the building opposite. The zip line had then retracted, pulling him rapidly into the air, launching him upward like a human projectile.

For a brief moment, Scarlet Reaper had been suspended in the air, hovering above the rooftop. In that split second, as his body began to descend, he had opened his scope, accounting for gravity and wind correction, and fired the shot through the building.

The guards, believing 'he' had fallen from the sky, had simply witnessed the aftermath of this remarkable feat.

Even though the shot ultimately missed, the fact that Scarlet Reaper had attempted such an extraordinary maneuver was enough to leave the team speechless. One of the experts, still in disbelief, wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Thank God he missed," the expert muttered, his voice shaky.

Indeed, the bullet had barely missed Director Linton's head by a centimeter. It had instead pierced the window behind him and disappeared into the city beyond. If Scarlet Reaper had been just a little more precise, Linton's head would have been shattered.

Despite the near miss, the audacity and skill involved in this sniper shot were enough to go down in history. The shooter had attempted to snipe a target while suspended in mid-air—an almost mythical achievement.

The investigation, however, took a bizarre turn when another report came in. A civilian had discovered a body a few blocks away, underneath the train tracks that passed behind the FBI building.

When the team arrived at the scene, they found a body—mangled from the fall, but quickly identified. It was the Scarlet Reaper.

The news shocked the entire team.

If the Scarlet Reaper was dead on the ground, who was the acrobatic figure performing impossible sniper tricks on the roof?

The autopsy revealed the real cause of death: the Scarlet Reaper had not died from the fall. He had been shot in the head by a powerful, precise bullet that had shattered his skull.

The room fell into stunned silence.

The experts, all looking from the shattered window in Director Linton's office to the train tracks in the distance, knew what this meant. Slowly, the pieces began to fit together, but nobody wanted to say it out loud. The sheer impossibility of the conclusion was too much to bear.

Finally, Director Linton, sitting in his chair, voiced what everyone else was thinking.

"The shot wasn't aimed at me," he said calmly. "It was aimed at the train passing by at that exact moment… to kill the Scarlet Reaper while he was on top of it."

The room erupted in disbelief. Everyone's hearts raced.

Someone had fired a shot not through the building to kill the director, but through the building to kill the Scarlet Reaper, who had been on the roof of a moving train. A shot so precise, so calculated, that it defied logic.