I take a pull of the cigarette hanging from my lips and feel the smoke enter my lungs. I wasn't actually a smoker, but this body grew anxious if it didn't get its hit of nicotine every other hour, and for what I was about to do, I'd prefer my hands to be steady.
I was currently standing on an unfinished high rise building. My surroundings were littered with cement blocks, steel beams, and strips of wood. By the look of it, this building would take another few years to finish. I wasn't at the top, but close to it. Maybe the 35th floor or so. Since the windows had yet to be installed, the view was rather breathtaking.
With a cigarette still in hand, I walk closer to the edge. Not close enough to look over at the busy streets below, but enough to take in the amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge stretching off into the distance.
I take another hit of the cigarette, the last one, and throw it to the ground, leaving it to burn out on its own. More DNA evidence wouldn't be a bad thing.
Still no sign of the target, I begin lazily stretching. Lord knows the previous owner of this body needed it. Early 40s, beer gut that caught the wind if I leaned backward, along with calloused hands from years of manual labor. Goes by the name of Dave, surname not important.
It's not my normal cup of tea, but he had access to this building. He had recently been laid off for showing up to the job while intoxicated, but luckily for me they had yet to revoke his credentials, but more importantly, he hated the Capes.
More waiting. My job tends to involve a lot of it, so I set the scene, so to speak. Empty beer can here, empty beer can there. That done, I check over my rifle. Well, the owner of this body's rifle anyway, but what's his is mine now.
An M40 bolt-action sniper rifle to be exact, one Dave had inherited from his late father. Durable, reliable. It was painted a mix between green and brown to better allow its handler to blend into a forest setting, and so was wholly out of place in the urban environment of the city.
Next to it, a box of ammo. .308 Swiss P AP. Armor piercing rounds. Most capes nowadays had suits designed to stop a bullet, or at least minimize the damage.
Looking at the watch on my arm, the time is currently 13:08. Target should be arriving shortly. I grab the pack of Camel from my pockets and light another smoke, watching for signs of his arrival. Note to self, when switching bodies, avoid smokers in the future.
20 minutes later and another cigarette, I could see commotion on the streets below. Civilians lined the streets. They carried signs. All different, but generally calling for justice. Don't worry my fellow citizens, he won't be alive for much longer.
A car pulled up. A black SUV to be specific. The cries of the crowd grew tenfold at the sight of it. There were various PRT members on scene, though, to keep the peace. Good thing, too, because the crowd looked like it could erupt into a riot at any point.
The car crawled forward at a snail's pace, careful not to hurt any of the screaming pedestrians. It eventually made it to the stairs in front of the building and came to a stop. It was hard to hear the screams from down below, but the word "murderer" stood out, screamed by a particularly irate young lady.
The car door opened and out stepped the target, still in his superhero suit.
His suit was a mixture of different shades of blue and white, along with deeper shades of blue in glowing, swirling patterns spread across it. His mask was a clear, shatterproof visor that allowed one to see out, but not in, which kept his face hidden
Target details:
Name: Adrian T. Casper
Age: 27
Cape Name: Tempest
Affiliation: Corporate Team, Greenwave Inc.
Powers: Aerokinesis
Of course, no one below knew what his real identity was. They just knew him as Tempest, an up-and-coming Cape. Unfortunately for him, there was a slight hiccup. A couple of civilians were killed and/or maimed during a recent fight with a local supervillain. The people of San Francisco, tired of being caught in the crossfire, were now clambering for there to be repercussions.
Good for them, honestly.
His abilities allowed him to basically control the wind, although it was a lot more complicated than that. He could control air pressure, and to a lesser degree, thermodynamics. He was one of those Capes that grew more powerful as the fight went on, using his powers to support the frontline.
The building Tempest was entering was the headquarters of Greenwave Inc. A rather beautiful, newly-built building stretching into the sky. Greenwave Inc. was trying to build their own superhero team, one that even had a theme. Mainly, capes that had control over various elements.
Tempest was a part of this team, and so the fallout was now also a problem for them. No doubt they had a team of lawyers in that building currently trying to worm them out of their current situation.
Honestly, I had no gripe with the kid. Shit happens, people die. All he had to do was apologize and take any punishment. Of course, said punishment would probably be unreasonably high just to prove a point, but hey, what can you do?
Tempest, though, wasn't going down without a fight. Unlike other capes, he'd been given his powers instead of triggering naturally, and was now threatening to spill some rather uncomfortable secrets about some very powerful people to avoid paying his dues.
And that's where I come in.
I provide a service, see. For the right price, of course.
Even after Tempest had entered the building, the clambering below continued. I waited, watching the windows for the target to appear. As expected, he entered a conference room close to the top of the building.
There was a reason I chose this building. With my vantage point, I could see into the windows easily. Picking up my rifle, I begin loading the rounds into the 5-round integral box magazine. I'd only need one, but would use the rest to further set the scene.
Again, another smoke just in case. The box was now close to empty, with only 4 left.
Satisfied, I lay on the floor. The rifle didn't have a bipod, so I used some pieces of wood I found lying around to prop the barrel up. The scope wasn't the best, but it would have to do. An older model, 9x zoom. Putting the butt of the gun against my shoulder, I bring my eye to the scope, looking for my target.
His helmet was now off, allowing me to confirm it was actually him, and not just someone wearing his suit. A young man with dirty blonde hair flat against his head from the helmet surrounded by well-dressed business men. Possibly lawyers.
He seemed angry. Probably didn't like what he was hearing. Slamming the table, he began pacing around the room. There were more words spoken between the well-dressed men and Tempest, but I had no idea what they were.
I had to shift my position a bit. My beer gut made it hard to get a comfortable position and my back was starting to ache. Once satisfied, I resumed my observation.
Another 10 minutes of screaming back and forth before my chance appeared. Tempest stood in front of one of the windows, his arms outstretched and touching the glass. He seemed to be looking at the crowd down below.
"Sorry, kid," I whisper. "It's nothing personal, just business."
I pull the trigger.
I feel the recoil of the gun on my shoulder and see the dust kicked up around the muzzle of the gun, followed by the deafening bang. At this distance, the impact wasn't instant. It was closer to half a second, but felt way longer.
I see the bullet penetrate the glass and hit Tempest right in the temple. No head exploding into a fine mist, just a body with its strings cut, falling to the floor. If he had time to prepare, or maybe kept his helmet on, he could have maybe survived. But he'd felt safe in that building, and so he'd let his guard down.
You would think the room full of people would jump up, start screaming. But you'd be wrong. They just sat there, momentarily dumbfounded for a few seconds, until the realization of what happened dawned on them. Only then did the panic kick in. They dived off their chairs, hiding behind the large table for cover.
I unlock the bolt and pull it back, ejecting the spent round. Pushing the bolt back into place loads another round. I pull the trigger. I wasn't aiming for anyone, just haphazardly shooting into the crowded room. Again, setting the scene. This would also give the Capes time to catch up to me.
I repeat the process until the magazine is empty.
I stand up, leaving the gun where it is and light another cigarette. Running was pointless. That building had a ton of Capes inside and they would be here any second. Besides, I wanted them to catch me. Well, Dave.
Grabbing a beer can, I sip on it while I wait for the heroes to arrive.
They were rather fast. It took only a minute before I heard the voice of a Cape angrily shouting at me.
"Stop. Right. There!"
Me? Haha. I'm not going anywhere, but I gotta play the part.
I had moved close to the edge of the floor, the city below now easily in view. At the sound of the gunshot the crowd down below had dispersed, all disappearing further up and down the street.
"Don't come any closer," I spoke in a mock nervous voice. "I'm w-warning you!"
The Cape flew into the building using small explosions from his hands and feet to change direction. Fire-based powers meant this one would be Cinder. He came to a stop a few feet away, allowing me to get a better look at him.
He wore a red and white suit, with orange highlights up the arms and legs. He had a mask on, but it wasn't really to hide his identity. This particular cape cared more for stardom than heroics. His mask only covered the lower half of his face, allowing me to see his spiky red hair, most likely dyed for aesthetic purposes. Most notably, his eyes glowed a dull orange – eyes that were currently focused on me.
Honestly, he looked rather stupid, but some marketing department probably spent months putting the design together. Based on the remarks of various focus groups, of course.
"I'll j-jump," I say while backing up to the edge. I had my hand behind my back, as well. Not holding anything, but they didn't know that.
Another Cape arrived. "Cider, are you good?"
The flyers would get here first, but the rest wouldn't be far behind.
"S-stay back!" I shout in fake fear while inspecting the second hero.
I recognized him. His name was Polaris, and he had control over magnetism.
He wore a black suit, which was covered in some type of lightweight, durable metal. The metal was for defense, but could also be used on the offensive with his powers. His helmet was a seamless metal face plate, with no slots for his eyes to see out of.
He had levitated his way up here on a metal disc. I could also see 3 metallic balls slowly spinning around him.
"S-stay back," I repeat.
"Go on," Cinder said in a cold voice. "Jump!"
"Cinder, what are you doing?" Polaris shouted.
Cinder gazed coldly at Polaris. Pointing at me, he shouted, "He killed Tempest! Wasn't he your friend?"
Polaris gazed around the floor, eventually seeing the gun and the empty beers. "Is he right? Did you shoot him?'
"He-he deserved it," I stutter. "You all do!"
I could see Polaris was angry, too. He was struggling to contain his anger, but he seemed like a good guy.
"See!" responded Cinder.
"Come off the ledge and we can talk about this," Polaris spoke to me, ignoring Cinder's fiery words.
Like hell I was going to do that. I had a hot date tonight, and wasn't going to spend it behind bars. Cinder was about ready to throw me off himself. All I had to do was give him a reason.
"You-you…" I stuttered. "Fuck you!" I shouted, and pulled my hand out from behind my back.
Cinder was faster, his hands shooting out towards the floor in front of me. A ball of fire erupted in front of me. It did no actual harm to me, but I felt the warm air wash over me from the explosion, pushing me over the edge.
Haha, not as dumb as he looks, then. I put on a fake surprised expression towards Cinder as I tumble over the edge.
The world turned upside down as I began plummeting towards the earth down below.
"Sorry, Dave," I whispered while falling, activating my powers as I did so.
I shut my eyes, enjoying the feeling of freefalling for a second as I feel for the connections from the use of my power. Finding a suitable one, I pull on it, allowing my consciousness to fade.
The wind passing by my ears disappeared, instead replaced by the sound of ocean waves crashing lazily against the shore. Opening my eyes, I see the sun just beginning to touch the horizon over the ocean in front of me.
"Peter, are you okay?"
"Hm?" I turn my gaze to the voice, seeing a woman sunbathing in a bikini.
Fuck, what was her name again? Sometimes it was hard to keep up.
"Everything's peachy," I reply while taking a moment to appreciate the view. Both views.
I was currently on a beach, possibly on vacation. Looking around, I see a bar on the beach further up.
"Dear, I'm going to get something to drink. You want anything?" I ask the mystery woman while standing up and grabbing Peter's/My phone.
She looked at me suspiciously for a few seconds, but gave me her glass. "I could do with a refill."
"Coming right up," I reply.
Walking down the beach, I unlock Peter's phone using his, well, our face. I input the number I was given and send it a message. Three smiling emoticons, which meant the job was done. Simple, but effective.
Dave would take the fall, of course, no pun intended. They'd do some background on him, find he'd been laid off and was about to lose his house, as well as quite a few online posts about his hatred for all things superhero.
Not as clean as I'd like, but I'd been in a time crunch for this one.