Welcome to my second fanfiction. My first is currently on hiatus due to a lack of creativity, but I hope to have it back on a roll shortly.
I have a Tumblr that I use for sharing progress and updates, possibly spoilers too
But now, enjoy The Phantom Sniper.
This story is rated M for: violent and graphic killing, language, satanic themes, and dark humor.
Roanapur, Thailand
A small bar in an alley, not too far from the Yellow Flag
The Chinese man ran out of the bar, blood streaking from his arms and torso. He tripped and fell on the hard ground outside, but was back on his feet in a second. He knew that he just had to keep running; otherwise whatever had just shot up the small Chinese bar in the back alley by the Yellow Flag was going to kill him and take the valuable information about whereabouts of the US dollars.
Suddenly, a loud shot rang out from behind the man, and he felt a .50 AE round go through and shatter his kneecap. He fell to the ground with a cry. A large, shadowy man, donned in a hooded trench coat and a Kevlar face mask fashioned to look like a skull, stepped out of what was left of the bar. In one large gloved hand, he held an open cell phone. In the other, he held a large handgun.
A tinny voice came from the cell phone, "Now, Mr. Zheng, please tell us the name of your boss's affiliate."
Mr. Zheng, as he was called, replied in panic, "I-I don't know any associates of Mr. Chang's! I swear it!"
The voice crackled through the cell phone, "He's not worth keeping alive. You may do with him as you wish."
The hooded figure snapped the cell phone shut and pocketed it. He then dropped an empty Action Express pistol magazine onto the hard concrete, snapped a fresh one into the familiarly-shaped handgun, and took aim at the Zheng's head. He fired five times, the shots resounding with a familiar clang of a Cutlass, but with a more sinister echo.
The figure holstered the gun after double-checking Zheng's vitals. He then drew the cell phone again and dialed his boss's number.
"It is done," the figure said with a in a deep voice, thick with a Russian accent.
"Very good, Phantom," the tinny voice crackled through the cell phone's tiny speaker, "We'll have another job for you soon."
"Rock! Wake the fuck up!"
Rock groaned at Revy's now-routine wake up call. "Revy, why do you always have to do yell at me first thing in the morning?"
"Why do you think, shit-for-brains?" Revy snarled, "We have a job!"
"Yeah, you would think that I would know that by now," Rock mumbled to himself.
Rock pulled himself out of bed and walked into the apartment's main living area.
"Mornin', Dutch," Rock said sleepily.
"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," Dutch said, distracted by the news, which was playing on the TV.
Rock started going through the fridge, looking for something somewhat edible.
"Hey, Rock," Dutch said impatiently, "Keep it down will you? Balalaika said the details for our next job would be in today's top story on the news."
"Wha-?" Rock started to inquire, but was immediately shushed by Revy, whose expression changed as Dutch turned up the volume on the TV.
An anchorman's voice filled the living area, "Last night, a hitman targeted a local Chinese man in a bar in the vicinity of the Yellow Flag."
"The victim had five .50 caliber rounds in the shape of a star in his skull. Police say a large knife was used to connect the wounds with straight lines in the shape of a star, as well as making a circular lesion to make some kind of crude pentagram. This is the trademark of an assassin that the world has not seen for nearly 20 years. Police say it's some knockoff, but this evidence points to the Phantom."
Dutch turned the TV off and sighed.
He said in a very hollow voice, "This could very well be the last job we'll ever recieve."
Well, well. The author is back. R&R and don't forget to check out my Tumblr for progress, updates, spoilers, and other random shit. Link's on profile. Peace out!