“Delta seven, to locust one, the target has arrived, green light on the General.”
The sniper looked through the scope at the parade ground next to the luxurius pressman hotel’s swimming pool.
He carrassed the smooth handle of wood, as he waited for her prey to show even the smallest hint of flesh. The world worked in reverse for his type; a crazed psychosis that took weeks for rubber balls to bounce, while petrified school girls’ arms crept toward jacks.
“Locust one to delta seven, no sign of movement.”
“Impossible we saw them head through the cabana, they are not in the building they have to be on the parade ground.”
The sniper scanned the field and nothing came into view.
“There are no targets, over.”
“They couldn’t just vanish, and army regulation states the ceremony must take place outside; no exceptions.”
As The new General assumed command, the agent in charge of security laughed to himself at the thought of the snipers, “It’s the last thing they would ever expect to see in an empty pool.”