This one will be a two-shot.
The assassin raised his rifle with a sickening smile as the cool october wind swept past him like the breath of god.
'If God's breath smelled like cool, minty freshness.' The assassin muttered to himself with a languid smile, perfectly relaxed and at ease, predatory eyes reflecting the moonlight. Wind velocity, he thought. Glancing at a nearby flag, he calculated its surface area, factoring in probable mass, rate of movement and factored in direction. Twenty-three miles per hour at this height. Angle, 62 degrees. Low humidity. weight of projectile, .01kg. Target size, 2.03 cm. Target Height, 6'2''. Sliding his hand into the hem of his leather jacket, he pulled out a dart so thin, it was almost invisible. A deadly nothing resting lightly in his fingers. He slid it into the specially engineered sniper's rifle without looking down, his movements fluid and easy. This was what he had trained for. He never made mistakes.
The dart was glass and half an inch long, containing a miniscule almost undetectable amount of hormones, the serotonin used by deadly Death Stalker scorpions to attract mates. And in L.A... The un-diluted strength of the mixture's scent would attract the poisonous creature from a mile away. And that was all he needed.
6,031.52 feet away, a man stood in the hazy air outside a bar, his shoulders hunched against the cold unable to hide his enormous stature. His eyes were cold, dark, and feral. As the smoky air, wispy agianst the inky midnight-black of the sky permeated his lungs, scarred from years of the abuse to which he was addicted, the man opened his mouth and let out a chest-rattling cough. He never noticed the tiny projctile enter his mouth and shatter against his teeth into undetectable pieces. His human faculties couldn't make out the sudden odor around him, spread by the brisk wind from which he huddled. THe wind carried the scent thus, without his knowledge. Several blocks over in an alleyway outside a seedy hotel whose gringy walls were barely capable of supporting themselves, a tiny creature awoke, scuttling around curiously. Something was off... Then it caught it, the scent of a mate. It headed towards the smell. Silent, and deadly, on the hunt.
Shawn Spencer smiled.