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A car pulled up the drive, crunching the gravel as it did. The driver-side window rolled down, and a stark white face could be seen, staring out the interior. After a few spoken words to a man near by, the window rolled up. The driver went to the house that lay beyond the drive.
All this was watched by a man, a few hundred yards away, atop a hill.
He crawled ever so slowly down the hill, from his hiding spot on the premisise. He took his time, taking care to avoid detection. He took diagnol courses, contstanly changing direction, to alude detection. Burned out cigerettes and stale beer, still laying in their cans, were scatterec about. Obviously left by some bygotten guard, careless after a long night.
He took care to pass quickly over these spots; they showed where the guards frequented.
Soon, he came upon his goal; a scraggly line of bushes adorned by crumbling, lichen covered boulders over looking the property. It was a fair place, with well-manucured lawns, a pond, and a large porch overlooking it all. The moor, where the Sniper was currently, flanked the manor, giving a good view the house, and being able to see down the legnth of it.
Setting himself up inbetween the larger of the boulders and one of the thorn bushes, he began his work.
He calculated wind and distance, gravity and aerodynamics. Anything and everything that could be put into the equation he made a scenario for. If the target came to the second story window? Covered. The porch? Bingo. The pond?
Soon, he was ready. He began waiting. And waiting, and waiting. This was what a sniper ussualy did, wait. He focused soley down his scope, forbidding hisself to be distracted by his pay, or family, he focused only on his mission.
After a few hours of waiting, he knew something was up. Something stirred deep inside him, but it eluded his attempts to seek it. It was familliar, yet entirely alien to him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but...
The sound of a hand gun being cocked came from behind him. He didnt bother turning over to see his killer. A sole shot rang out, but was barely audible beyond the hill; the work, of a silencer.
The dead snipers assailant turned him over, the shock only ever reaching his eyes, never spreading to his stoic face.
"Oh..."
His brother.
