The night wind was perfect. It swept over Deadshot and he narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he focused on his target, Mayor John Stemson.
He had exactly twenty five seconds of clear shooting from when the mayor had left his office to when the he would enter his armored car and drive away.
It was just too easy.
Deadshot followed the mayor's steps with his eyepiece, tracking him precisely while he concentrated. He aimed for the back of his neck where death would be instant.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Be one with the bullet.
He squeezed the trigger and watched John Stemson crumple. Calmly, methodically, he took apart his rifle and packed it away.
Rising from his kneeling position, Deadshot left the rooftop, not once looking back.