Their eye focused more past the apartment building and its ra ow of rooms and people to show a hot pink building with windows facing the street. The crosshairs landed on the center window of the top floor, it was the deluxe suit with a pink bed and a woman handcuffed to the center. She was face down with her ass to the window wearing a latex bunny suit.
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A figure of a man steps into view with a cattle prod in hand, the woman flinches at his shadow's reach. The man was balding and a little on the heavier side, looking to be in his mid to early forties wearing boxers and high socks, while the woman cuffed to the bed seemed no older than eighteen.
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*Zzzt*
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*Zzzt*
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She shook in anticipation as he flicked the prod off and on close to her back, she clenched her eyes and hands shut as the sound of an electrical arc formed closer to her. Then there was a sudden sound, a sound that only could be described as an egg popping in a microwave. She was drenched head to toe in a thick white liquid-esque slime, the cattle prod fell from the limp wristed headless cadaver's hand. As it slowly slumped to the floor stopping on its knees as she found the voice to scream.
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Earlier
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"Eighty percent chance of success." Zero frowned at the analysis Delta gave, frowned harder than normal, maybe because it sounded more like judgment than analyzing.
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"Why I factored in everything. High velocity so the bullet doesn't drop as much, the high impact for piercing through many layers of building, what could I have missed?" Zero retorted patience thinning in every word. Delta leaned against the desk in the room in frustration.
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"Not my job to tell you where you messed up." Zero growled at his words pulling the trigger.
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"Personal evaluation ninety-eight percent chance of success." Zero looks daggers over at Delta.
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The bullet slid through the first wall leaving a clean circular hole in its wake. Glided through the cup of coffee fast enough to leave a clean stream of coffee for the purple-haired woman to clean. Meeting her neighbor's wall and then through his holotop projection of a woman unexpectedly receiving a visit from a pizza delivery man. Over the heads of Full Dive junkies slumped on the floor of barren apartments. Finally silently gliding through the first window it's seen since entering the building, then another of the love hotel, finally meeting its intended target in the back of his head.
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Zero sits up from the stool and thrust the rifle out the window it folds in on itself and a flame from the barrel propels it off into the city. Zero unholstered two pistols from the waste and turned them on a pod in the room they were in. The pod had a younger male, with thick black hair and perfect features, the outside of the tank read K. Lang with a blinking indicator with the word pending in red.
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"It's not gonna send."
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"It'll send."
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"Your shot was too low."
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"It wasn't it'll send."
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A few more moments pass as the blinking pending sign starts to take its toll...
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"It's not gonna send this is what eighty percent looks-" The pending light flicks green and lights up with the word received.
ns 15.158.61.50da2
