Memories Buried by Snow part 2

Flat on the ground, the weather wasted no time burying him. Snow flickered in his view every other second, coming from his left. The render was a blur, yet he saw a warm glow radiating from the brown interior.

When it finally focused, he watched the cozy sight of wooden floors and cream white walls, decorated with yellow lamps. There was a slightly elevated section at the front, decorated to look like a stage. A small, intimate group of ten people sat below, an audience chatting before the stage.

“——Hello? — you hear me? Do you hear me now?”

“Ah… Yeah… yeah. I can hear you now…”

“Must’ve been some radio interference. Keep me posted.”

“Copy that.” He replied, coiling the sling to his hand.

A girl stepped onto the stage. She had platinum white hair, not unlike the snow, and looked almost the same age he was, if not a little younger. Behind her, a butler handed her a violin, and she gave him a high-five.

At the front-most chair sat a gentleman with white streaks in his hair.

“So, that’s him.” The young assassin adjusted his scope, focusing on the old gentleman.

Static followed, “Have you located the target?”

The boy pressed onto his headset, “Just the CEO, and I believe his daughter. Any updates?”

“We haven’t re—ved any new details.” Her voice was the only sound besides the howling winds, but even that was glitched by the weather.

“It would be nice if they gave me a photo or a description.”

Light dimmed inside, and he watched the girl play the violin, while her audience watched cheerfully.

“Wouldn’t— this much trouble if we already— D—termine who— figure it——”

Thunder rumbled from the distance, signaling the blizzard’s first attack. A gust of wind pulled his white cloak over his face — the more he tried pulling it off, the more it slapped him in the face.

After being repeatedly slapped, he got on his knees and took off his cloak, letting the wind take it.

The blue turtleneck underneath was all that was left to fend him from the frigid frost. A single gust of wind was enough to send shivers down his spine. He exhaled into his stiff fingers, then grabbed hold of the firearm.

Beams of sunlight sank as the sun was halfway down the mountain, and the air grew thinner with each passing moment.

But when he returned his gaze through the scope, he saw the violin drop to the wooden floor. The heiress’s arms were caught in the butler’s tight grip.

“Two-Zero-One to Command, do you copy? Target has been identified. He has taken the heiress as a hostage.” He pressed into his headset, frantically calling out to his handler, “I repeat, the target has the heiress hostage!”

“Copy— I repeat— ”

Several seconds slipped away as static stopped him from striking. Audience members stood up in retaliation, only to stop once the butler pulled out a pistol.

“Command, I have line of sight on the target. I repeat, he’s in line of sight. Permission to engage!”

“Hold—— risk shooting the heiress. Do not——————”

There was nothing left to make out.

Without instruction, the young assassin scowled. His rage at inaction betrayed his fear of being reprimanded. “Sorry, Command…”

Before he could shoot, a bright flash blinded him.

The rifle’s crack was masked by the booming lightning, and the projectile vanished to the snowy curtain.

As soon as the thunder died down, he rubbed his eyes and looked back into the interior.

He zoomed in, and a pit formed in his chest.

Tears streamed down from the girl’s eyes as the butler placed the gun against the back of her head. Betrayal set in her eyes as the butler who stepped on the stage with her was now ready to take her life.

Gritting his teeth, Two-Zero-One ejected the casing, chambering a new load. A golden cartridge flew out as he aligned his sights with the butler’s head.

Air began stabbing his lungs like icy needles. He bit his lip until it cracked, while waiting for his window. Then the CEO stood up and appeared to plead with the butler, taking attention away from the girl.

It was routine.

Aim. Fire.

An act he was intimately familiar with.

Only one thing has changed.

But even though it was the window he waited for, his finger quivered.

The mission was clear: Eliminate the target.

Two-Zero-One squeezed the trigger, and blood splattered.

The white cliff had been stained red.