Sometimes I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I’m sitting behind one of the most powerful and accurate weapon platforms on the planet, and all I usually end up doing is making a mess of some civilian’s cranium.

Take this guy, for instance. 6 foot, Caucasian, brown hair, normal looking face. Suit and tie, slim briefcase. This photo matches at least half the people in this crowd. Did the client want me to take out every single guy here? ’cause if he wanted that, a missile would be the tool for the job. Not me.

Am I even meant to get him? Because, seriously, it would be easier for all of us if I just packed away and went home. This crosshair’s been wandering over potential targets for at least the last hour.

“Hey man, we have new information on the target since you were a bit picky about the description we gave you, okay? Listen, the guy’s going to be talking on a phone-”
I cut him off. You have got to be kidding me. Everyone and their mother is talking on a phone!

Sigh.