Well then, here's to my second fanfiction!

In case you don't know or don't notice, this story (Mainly the prologue) is going to be quite heavily based on the film 'Shooter', but I am going to change quite a bit so I'm not completely copying the film. There will be differences in plotlines and characters and when characters meet and of course… some all important SMUT!

But the smut comes later.

(Also, don't worry that Tōshirō sounds a bit OOC, there is a perfectly good reason for it)

This particular chapter was written to Citizen Soldier by 3 Doors Down.

And finally before I start, this fiction has a front cover: http:/ darkholymagic . deviantart . com / gallery / # / d4ccbhk

NOTE: There are some military terms here, so I am putting a glossary at the end.

Prologue

It hurts…

Who knew such pain could course through my body. This is wrong – I was trained to cope with this kind of agony.

So why does it hurt so much?

Something about the agonisingly gentle zephyr put me on edge. Maybe it was how it barely made the foliage on my Ghillie suit* move… or how it was likely to send this particular bullet veering off course and miss the Heinz Beanz can I'd meticulously placed half a kilometre away – I didn't know. All that mattered was my wandering mind was already becoming jaded and I absentmindedly twitched my finger towards the trigger. Sam let out a warning bark next to me, sensing my agitation. With an imperceptible sigh, I shrugged the camouflaged suit off my back and reached back to pull the loyal St. Bernard to my side. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he panted heavily, drooling slightly on my shoulder. I gave him a rough rub on the head with my fist and chuckled to myself when he let out an indignant whine.

"Yeah yeah, sorry lad," I muttered to him. Abandoning the rifle, I moved to pull him onto my lap. Not that it particularly worked, seeing as he dwarfed me by a good foot when I was sat cross-legged like this. I scratched his chest and rubbed his belly; the only two signs of appeasement and affection I knew how to give him.

"Whaddya' think they're doing here then, eh boy?" I cooed condescendingly. I couldn't help fussing like a mother hen around Sam – he was what you'd call… dopey. He reminded me of a hypnotised chicken – those that when you drew a line of chalk in front of them they would just stare at it, mesmerised by this white stripe that had suddenly appeared in front of them. Not that I'd ever tried that; I wouldn't have known how to snap them out of the hypnosis.

"Ah well, shall we give them something to see, then?" I shoved him off my knee with as much benevolence as I could muster, then flipped myself onto my stomach and set up the rifle again. I pulled the Ghillie suit back over my body and positioned myself in front of the gun. Shutting one eye, I glared into the scope. After adjusting the lens for roughly seven-point-eight seconds, I was satisfied with the focus. I tapped my trigger finger on the stock*, already impatient once again. Sam let out another low growl beside me to try and keep my concentration.

"I'm getting there, Sam." After inhaling deeply and placing the crosshair over the tin of beans I finally allowed temptation to get the better of me and I yanked the trigger back - with possibly too much force than required. The reverberation that the explosion made was much too satisfying for its own good; sending a pleasant shudder up my spine. The juxtaposition of the blast, the sound of birds fleeing for their lives and the gratifying sight of beans exploding almost had me grinning madly.

"I'd assumed that the can would be empty."

The smooth voice seemed to be disturbingly unconcerned regarding the fact that it now had a pistol aimed square between the eyes. To say my fingers were dexterous would be an understatement. I'd loaded the ammo, cocked the gun and aimed it with deadly accuracy; and I'd only used two fingers and a thumb whilst calmly looking the other way. Even snipers need to be proficient with a revolver.

"It's no fun if it doesn't go with a bang. I think the tomato sauce just makes it look like I exploded someone's head, don't you think?" I left the rifle alone and shed the Ghillie suit once more, leaving it on the ground to dilapidate. The uncanny feeling that I wouldn't need it anymore washed over me. I stood and turned to face a familiar man. Unwelcome, but familiar. The man with the velvety voice faced me with such a casual stance that it irritated me. He wore a black and white suit that made him look like a penguin and a prim little bow-tie that only added to the ridiculous garb he sported. The tight blazer only had the middle button done up in order to give room for him to stuff his hands in his pockets. And even though his coffee hair was smoothed back, there was still a single strand that fell right down the centre of his face. I felt the resolute urge to snip it off. He was flanked by two men who looked equally as insipid. On his left, a black man who wore the exact same suit as his superior. He leaned casually on an overly flashy black car that I didn't care to name. On his right side there was a gaunt man with silvery hair that almost put mine to shame. His tuxedo was slightly less outlandish than the others'; he was clad in a simple blazer that he hadn't fastened, a reputable black tie (that actually reached further than his collar bone) and nice set of straight leg trousers. I took an instant liking to him; not him in particular but the fact that he didn't look like a clone of the leader. He was independent – I liked that.

"That was quite a shot you made there," the chocolate-haired man noted, holding up a small pocket scope of his own to show that he'd seen the shot.

"Hardly. I was aiming for the dot on the 'i'. It hit the centre of the 'e'." I brushed off the comment with a small shrug. I chucked the pistol away wantonly then thrust my hands in the pockets of my khaki trousers. They were comfortable slacks; I should've worn them more often. "Was there any particular rationale for your little visit here, Aizen? Because you know that I've cut all ties with the military and I don't very much appreciate your company."

Aizen chortled, pushing that irksome piece of hair out of his eyes. "Maybe I just wanted to check up on my best sniper and see how he's managing?"

"Your ex-best sniper." I corrected. "And no, that thought never occurred to me." I patted my thigh sharply and Sam came running, giving a supportive bark before settling down next to my foot. "So could you tell me why you wanted to disturb me? Me and Sam were just about to have a beer."

"Oh dear, Tōshirō-kun. You always had a bad habit of inebriating that poor dog."

I hated how he deadpanned. Aizen was the only person I couldn't read like a book. I loathed him for that.

"It's Hitsugaya-san to you."

He completely ignored that. "I have an offer for you."

"It's a no."

"So quick to judge," Aizen pokerfaced once more. He had such an austere voice; I wished I hadn't thrown my pistol away. I wanted to wipe that indecipherable smile off his smug face once and for all. "I'm sure you would be willing to accept once you've heard the proposal."

My mouth twisted into an uncertain frown. Yep, I definitely wanted my revolver back.

"We both know that you were, by far, the most accurate and deadly shot in the military and I am not ashamed to admit this. You put poor Kaname to shame." He flicked his hand back to point at the penguin-clone, who nodded slightly in return. "So that is why I require your help."

As much as the thought of Aizen complimenting me made my stomach turn, I couldn't help but glow slightly at the praise. As I looked at the man called Kaname, it was in my instinct to study him. He stood tall, but still shrunk whilst in the presence of Aizen. His fingers twitched anxiously towards his pockets every few seconds and his head flicked at every rustle of leaves, every shift in the wind. These were all things a half decent sniper was trained it – being perfectly aware of your surroundings all of the fucking time. I mentally eulogised him for this. Yet I could tell from his pitch black sunglasses and his jittery composure that he couldn't see.

"You, Kaname. Are you blind?"

His head snapped towards me. He hadn't expected to be asked a question. That was foolish. My opinion of him lowered. "Yes, Hitsugaya-gunsō*."

A smirk tugged at my lips. I liked that, although I would've preferred to have been referred to as 'Captain'.

"How is it that you can shoot? Do you have a good spotter*?" My words were quick and impatient. I wanted him to answer immediately, but it seemed to take him a good half a second to process the words I said. He was slow. I didn't like that.

"Yes sir." His head tilted towards the fox-faced man, who beamed back at me with a forbidding grin. "Did you not have a spotter?"

He questioned me. It wasn't his place to question me. Hell, it wasn't even Aizen's place to question me but he could damn well get away with it (as much as that infuriated me). My opinion of him dropped again.

"I am getting mixed emotions regarding whether or not I like you, Kaname. You'd do well to remember that," I deadpanned. My fingers made their way to the back of my neck and scratched it lightly. The sensation sent a chill down my spine, not dissimilar to that of the shiver I'd received when I shot the bullet. That was good. It meant I could feel calm when I wasn't brutally rupturing someone's brain.

Aizen pulled another furtive smirk. "Now now, Hitsugaya-kun-"

"Hitsugaya-san."

"Hitsugaya-kun-"

Forget shooting; I wanted to dismember him as painfully as humanly possible.

"- although you may have disjoined yourself from the military forces this does not give you the right to instruct my subordinates. Now that you are not in military ranks you do not hold the authority to give commands to any person in the armed forces. You would do well to remember that."

My lips pursed. Sam growled. We were both on edge. I contemplated sending the St. Bernard to attack the three people I now considered trespassers, but decided against it. I didn't want their blood on my lawn.

"I was merely expressing my distaste towards another human being; that is a basic human right."

He ignored that as well. "We would like for you to plan an assassination on the Emperor."

My eyes bulged. My pulse skipped. What? Aizen was asking me to shoot the Emperor? I didn't know exactly how, but Aizen was related quite closely to the Emperor Yamamoto; not to mention the fact that he was one of the Emperor's closest assistants. Traitor, danger, kill. The three words ran like a broken record in my mind. The man stood in front of me was infamous for his nocuous temperament – willing to sacrifice any particular person so long as it would provide him with the means to attain power. Yet, even with this murderous personality, he seemed to know no remorse. His only reasoning behind each demise he permitted was 'You should feel privileged – your death has helped me greatly.' And it was this precise reason why I wanted to murder him more than any other man in the military. This was a man… a beast who used me. He used me and the one man I trusted for his own selfish desires. According to him and his subordinates, our deaths would have won the war. Because of us two, the other side was on edge – they were prepared for whatever the 'best damn sniper team' threw at them. No… if we were to die then their defences would weaken.

What a load of crap.

"Do you really expect me to help you, Aizen?" I snarled, grabbing a fistful of the fur on Sam's neck – more to stop myself than the agitated dog. "Do you not remember my exact words when I quit? 'Don't expect me to come crawling back because I ain't fucking buying it, Aizen. The only death that would bring about peace is yours.' I still hold that promise to your name, Aizen. If the time and place requires it then I will shoot you. And remember, I don't miss."

Another forged smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Did you not miss that last shot?"

I bit the inside of my mouth so hard that I could feel the coppery tang of blood on my tongue. Sōsuke Aizen – master of provocation. Damn, he was good at it.

"The answer is no." My fingers unfurled from the clumps of pelt. Sam made another low rumble, but refrained from charging. He wouldn't move unless I gave a signal; the signal that I was a hairs breadth away from giving.

"I don't think you are so opposed to aiding me as you are to shooting the emperor." Aizen's smile smoothed into a tight curve down. His eyes flashed a dark chocolate that I didn't recognise. Something in those orbs glinted, but I couldn't tell from what. "We don't want to shoot the Emperor; we want you to plan an assassination so that we can stop one."

I tried not to show my surprise as best as I could, but the slight tilt of my head most likely gave it away. Preventing an assassination hardly seemed typical of the narcissistic senator, even if it were for a family member. My mind wandered to all the possibilities of what he could gain from this. How would stopping the assassination get me killed? It wouldn't result in a promotion for him, seeing as he was possibly the highest ranked officer under the Emperor himself. And even if I failed the mission, he would not end up Emperor. I didn't know much about hierarchy but I knew that the likes of Aizen would not be next in line for the throne.

"I… I don't understand…" I admitted feebly. "But you're wrong about one thing. I would shoot the damn Emperor – this country has betrayed me one time too many and if anyone is to blame it is you and that goddamned man."

He insisted on overlooking the latter of my utterances once more. I swear he was doing it simply to aggravate me. "You probably aren't aware of this, but the Emperor is scheduled to make an opening speech in Tōkyō City Centre this time next month. A few hours ago, the Information Bureau received an internal, anonymous transmission stating that there will be an attempt on the life of the Emperor next month. Of course, it would only make sense that this assassination would take place when the Emperor is out in the open and most vulnerable. We cannot contact the usual agencies seeing as the government has already been breached. The assailant claims that they are able to make a shot from over a mile away. I'm not convinced that this shot is possible, but it's vital to take precautions. So that is where we need you, Tōshirō-kun. You can make a shot at that distance, can't you? We want you to scout; tell us how you would go about it."

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed on it thoughtfully. It was an interesting prospect. I had no allegiance to this traitorous country and no obligation to protect the Emperor… no. But what interested me was the case at hand. It was suspicious to me; something felt off. It could have been the fact that Aizen could never say anything with the appropriate tone, but I didn't think that was what put me on edge. One month was a lot of time. If I were to forewarn the government of an assassination I would give them an hour – a day tops. Why the unusually long amount of time?

"You know what it takes to make a shot at that distance? Everything counts for a shot that far away. Humidity, elevation, temperature, wind, spindrift. There's a six to ten second flight time, so even the spin of the Earth makes a difference. The Emperor will be wearing body armour. That means a headshot at over a mile." I dropped to the floor with a grunt; crossing my legs and propping myself up on my arms. Sam mimicked me – he fell over in a lackadaisical manner and lay on his belly, his nose between his paws.

"Could it be done, then?"

"Depends who you have. Do you think the person could do it?"

"We have reason to believe so."

"Then you've got yourself a real problem." I scraped the back of my neck once more. My fingers made their way to my temples and rubbed in slow circles. I most certainly didn't know anyone other than myself capable of making that shot – no-one alive, at least.

Aizen started forwards, causing both of his protégés to tense. Sam howled and I grabbed the pistol which was now in an easy reaching distance. I pointed the barrel between his eyes almost languidly, resting my chin in my palm. Aizen stopped abruptly, a quick flash of fear crossing his face. I smiled at that. I was always my scariest when I was calm. Who knew when my finger might… slip…

"Aizen I do hope you realise that you have no reason to be on my land, and your being here counts as trespassing in my eyes. I don't believe you have any documents giving you permission to step foot on my property, seeing as you only received warning of this shooting a few hours ago and I just so happen to live a few hours away from the Bureau. If you take one step closer then I shall have to be forced to shoot you and your subordinates, and there is absolutely nobody within a one mile radius of this house that can vouch for you to say that you weren't armed and ready to kill me." I cocked the gun, casually waving it from side to side, letting its aim pass over the three men. "I never liked the Emperor."

"I believe at one time you swore that you would protect Japan at all costs, from internal and external threats." Aizen's lips pursed in annoyance. I liked the fact that it was me getting under his skin for once. It was such a pretty face when he wasn't baring his teeth in a haughty leer. That look suited him. Annoyance painted over his face, hidden in every nook and cranny – I loved it.

"I'm beginning to tire of your presence."

"I don't want you to turn your TV on next month and see that the Emperor is dead, knowing you could have stopped it."

"I don't have a TV. Is it new?"

"I'm sorry?"

I stood up again, ordering Sam to stay on the floor. He whined in protest but complied anyhow. I couldn't help the grin that spread from ear to ear as I walked towards Aizen, still aiming the revolver for his head, and reached up to place my hand on his shoulder. The two men behind him strung a long line of colourful profanities and pulled out their own pistols. The black man aimed quite well to say he was blind, managing to point the barrel at a point between my temple and my eye. The other man with the disturbing grin was slightly less well aimed, only managing to point the gun at my shoulder. Aizen didn't train his men very well.

"The car. Is it a Bentley? New Continental GT? Oi, you – I'm talking to you."

The fox-face blinked incredulously at me, pointing at his chest as if to ask for confirmation.

My shoulders sagged and I sighed. "Yes, you."

His fingers curled around the pistol once more, aiming even worse than he had before. Now the gun was directed at my bicep. "Mmh, Eight Litre V8. Cost t'government a fortune." He was heavily accented to the point where I almost couldn't understand him. But the drawl suited him – it was sly, just like his visage.

I nodded thoughtfully, almost condescendingly, and then passed the pistol into the hand that was dangerously close to the senator's throat, hooking the trigger on my finger. Even if his face didn't show it, I could feel Aizen's shoulder tense with panic. With my now free hand, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a battered phone. I rarely used it, so it wasn't exactly in the best shape – but at least it had a camera. "What's your name, boy?"

"Gin, sir." The fox-face's concentration faltered to the point where the gun wasn't even aimed at me anymore.

"I'm not your best friend, Gin," I groused, trying to figure out how I turned the damned mobile on. After successfully discovering that you held down the green phone button, I held it up towards the car. "I want your last name."

"Ichimaru," Gin muttered.

"Lovely. Now, Ichimaru. Could you lift the hood, please? I like the look of the engine, I wanna take a picture."

Ichimaru tensed slightly, unsure of what to do. The revolver in his hand trembled and I could hear the ammunition clanging around inside. He hadn't loaded it properly – even if his aim somehow miraculously improved there was no chance it would send the bullet in the right direction. Aizen's choice of men must have drastically changed since I left; he hadn't even taught this idiot how to load, hold or use a gun. How pathetic. Gin shot an anxious glance towards his friend, who returned the perplexed gaze. They both kept the befuddled stare for a few seconds before Ichimaru finally lowered the gun. He turned to the car and pulled the hood up with somewhat difficulty, then turned expectantly towards me. I threw him a dazzling smile that dazed him for a second, causing him to stumble to the side and out of shot – just how I wanted it.

"This is… absolutely… beautiful…" I susurrated as I pressed the 'Ok' button. The flash of the small camera was a little too bright for the required job, but I ignored that fact. I couldn't be bothered finding the option that turned flash off, and besides – I didn't want a detailed picture of the engine.

"Tōshirō-kun…" Aizen muttered. Venom tipped his words, warning me against something. Not that I cared.

"Huh?" I turned to him, faking confusion. "Oh! I'm sorry, I never realised!" I removed the cold barrel of the gun from his neck, released his shoulder and turned away from him. "Would you please remove yourself from my property now?"

Sam barked happily when I whistled for him, loping to my side and stumbling when he finally reached it. I chuckled at him – as dim-witted as the poor thing was, I wouldn't trade Sam for anything. He was the kind of thing I needed, something for me to fuss over to take my mind off whatever disturbing thoughts I started ruminating over. But even if he was dopey, he could probably successfully undertake Aizen's profession, do a better job of it and still have time to play fetch at the end of the day. He could be as idiotic and slow as he wanted, but I would not have a stupid dog. He was smarter than most people.

"Look at this, Sam! D'ya think that we could save up for one of these?" I leaned down to show him the picture of the car, and we both stared pensively at the photo of the registration plate which was quite obviously fake.

The cool, damp air in the refrigerator was just what I needed to cool down my head. I hadn't realised it, but Aizen's visit had left me hot and bothered. It was a habit of mine to flush when I was irritated, or when I felt the inane urge to shoot someone. I rested my cheek against the inside of the door and shuddered at the prickle of hair on the back of my neck. I inhaled slowly, carefully; massaging my temples to try and prevent an imminent headache. Talking to people was bad for me – I was fine being the recluse I always had been. When the hot flash began to subside, I reached into the fridge and grabbed a large can of larger. With the can now pressed to my forehead, I shut the fridge and made my way to the table. I sat down on the splintering chair and rested my elbows on the chequered tablecloth. My fingers rolled the can back and forth over my forehead.

Sam howled at me impatiently and scratched the already ruined table leg. I smiled at him weakly.

"Sorry, mate. You want some?" I hooked my finger under the ring pull and tugged it. The can made a gratifying fizz as the tab was pulled off. "There you go." I held the can to his mouth and tipped it back so that he could drink it. He graciously lapped up a good half of the can before I pulled it away, much to his dismay. "Leave me some, Sam!" I wiped the top with my elbow then took a dainty sip.

"What do you think then, boy? Wonder what it's like in Tokyo. I've never been to Tokyo; do you think it'd be nice? There probably won't be any beer, though. Tokyo's probably too posh for beer – it'll all be that Sake stuff. I never liked Sake much. Then again, they might have some of that posh beer… what's it called…" I tapped the bottom of my chin and stared absentmindedly out of the window. "Theakstons Old Peculier, that's the one. I'd be alright with some of that."

I reached down and kneaded the top of his head affectionately. "Whaddyaa think, Sam? You think you could tough it out here for a few days? Awh, don't look at me like that – we need someone to hold the fort." I grinned at him and massaged his ear. "It's deer season; you'll do fine on your own. I'll leave you some beer out if you want. You'll figure out how to open it, you're a clever dog."

He blinked languidly and rested his jaw on my knee, yawning despite it still being mid-morning. I felt the corners of my mouth pull up when I glanced him, already half asleep. I wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, but even a week without Sam would be pretty miserable. He was the only thing keeping me sane right now, the only thing that stopped the nightmares. It was ridiculous – I was twenty one and still the nightmares haunted me. I'd tried convincing myself it would be typical of any war veteran, especially from a place like Afghanistan – but it still didn't stop me from feeling helpless, from feeling weak.

"Yeah," I sighed after taking another mouthful of larger. "You'll be right."

GLOSSARY

Ghillie Suit – A type of garb worn in military that resembles leaves and twigs in order to give camouflage in a forest environment.

Stock – The handle of the rifle.

-gunsō – A Japanese honorific meaning 'sergeant'.

Spotter – Snipers generally work in teams. The sniper shoots whilst the spotter analyzes temperature, wind, humidity, the target and other things that might affect the shot.

Okay, I know that this chapter was pretty similar to the film, but I promise the storyline will be different!

Reviews? I would be very happy ^^

And just to let you know, the rest of the story will be from Ichigo's POV. Also, what would you think if I changed the story to 3rd Person, rather than 1st? Would that be too weird?