[SP] every time you kill someone, their fatal wound shows up as a scar on your body.
*****
The whole mission started off well, with everything moving as intended. There was no hint that the day would take a turn for the worst, but then that was life at its finest.
I had given a margin for error in the measurement of time as far as the first few parts of the mission were concerned. Soar's participants were five minutes late in the commencement of their paragliding sessions, but I wasn't too bothered by that. I had given them a margin of 10 minutes. so things were still moving according to plan. I was so confident about killing Nathan Prescott that day.
I waited in my spot conveniently until I saw the paragliders ahead, twenty of them soaring through the air, with a lot of cheers among them. It seemed like quite the experience. and I felt it was beautiful. A few more seconds of that, and I might have gotten carried away. Thankfully, that wasn't the case, as the reporters and all their vans came racing, hot at their heels and heading for the gates of Scarlett Estate.
I sprayed some water from the battle all over my face and on the neck of my shirt before I began cycling at a calm, leisurely pace. I needed to look completely like what I was posing to be because if anything off was noticed, then my plan would fall apart before the main part commenced.
I met the throng of reporters at the gate, and with no more than a cursory nod at the guard, the gates were open for me. The man looked exasperated, so I nodded at the crowd and said in my character impression voice. "And what's this business about?"
"There's a paragliding session going on, and the wankers just had to fly right over our estate. The reporters want to capture every moment of it, so they're hanging around."
"Of course. It wouldn't even be that much of a problem if they weren't so barbaric about it. You can get them to stay calm about it and let them in, after all, it wouldn't be a crime for them to see what luxury living looks like for once in their lives, would it?" I said, giving him a wink.
I saw him smile, half-heartedly and more like a sneer to me. He'd obviously heard that a lot, and he said. "Sure," before walking away. He was bored or annoyed, and the discussion was over.
And I was in without an issue, My acting was spot on, and everything was going according to schedule.
I cycled my way through the Estate, already very familiar with the roads to my destination. All the tools needed were in my bag, and I was on my way to the house. As expected, soon after, the reporters came pouring in, albeit silently and in an orderly fashion. Some of the estate residents came out to watch the entire spectacle/ In the midst of all this, who would even notice the cyclist? No one, that was who.
I reached the house and went right to the back, my signal jammer already active. I whipped out a cellphone, unscrewed the back panel, and took the battery before doing a little internal soldering. I put another battery inside, sealed the entire package, and switched on the phone before placing a phone call to it. The circuit was complete.
As soon as I picked the call, I opened the window and slipped inside the house, my goggles active to see the lasers set in place. Prescott didn't disappoint; he had put a lot of measures and traps in place, but this time, I had the upper hand. Dropping the phone on the table in the sitting room, I looked around before walking out. I grabbed my bicycle and cycled off, making sure the call was still active.
I paused and watched from a few houses away as Prescott returned to his house. I smiled before moving on. He would at as expected, I was sure of it, but I didn't want to be so close at the time when the inevitable happened. Leaving would be a bit of a fix. And then, I couldn't go too far, because a certain fluctuation in the call connection could set off the reaction before it was due.
I waited for him to enter the house, and I heard the gasp when he noticed the phone. I then spoke up. "Pick it up and answer. I think this is the best way for us to communicate."
He picked up the phone slowly, tentatively if my hunch was correct, and answered. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Well, I wanted to speak with you, off EncroChat, you know. So you can hear the mockery and scorn in my voice when I congratulate you for your moves so far. So you put Skeletor on the job, did you? I'm pleased and quite honored that you value me that much. But let me tell you, nothing can save you now. I'm moving in soon. For the kill."
"Is that so? Then why don't you go ahead then? You've wasted a lot of time because Skeletor's right on your neck now. It's over, so if you've nothing to say then -"
I knew he was going to throw the phone off. I was watching from one of the bug feeds, and I saw how angry he was. So I ended the call before his hand could move far from his ears.
The explosion was as small and concentrated as expected. And loud enough. As Nathan Prescott dropped to the ground, I knew I had done it. Finally.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED
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