Mission.

A near-empty building lay on the outskirts of an old town. It resembled a church, but a quick glance would certainly suggest otherwise. That would be going to far; the place was formerly a church. Of course it was remodeled, the design on churches was really inconvenient for anything other than a service. Since the days when it was used for worship, the space had been bought and subsequently abandoned by the Viceroy theatrical group. They were legendary, that was for sure. Out of the ten-thousand seats, only two remained occupied. There was a man wearing a strange fatigue of some foreign land on the ground floor, while another lurked in the shadows located on the balcony.

It was hard to see the hidden man's face, save for the rough stubble that could be seen on his chin and cheeks, illuminated by his lit cigarette. The silence that encompassed the once clamorous room was entrancing, as the slightest sound would echo for what seemed to be an eternity. A small piece of the now corroded and brittle ceiling struck the ground after gravity brought it down, and the room was filled with the crackle of shattering plaster.

---

It was a fortunate event, that noise, for both of them. The man in the shadows took it as an oppurtunity to relax, and the man in the uniform became more alert. Strangely enough, that was exactly what both of them needed. The man on the ground held his breath and drew his assault rifle to his shoulder, taking aim at the balcony that was a good thirty meters from him. While keeping his weapon ready, the man pressed a device on his chest and began to speak into a radio that fit conveniently into his hand.

"This is Sergeant Keller," the man said into the radio, "I've searched the area and it seems to be secure. I'm staying in this room for the moment in order to fortify the position. I should be ready for extraction after an hour or so. Over."

"Good work Sergeant," came a grainy voice from the radio, "we'll be sending a helicopter to your position momentarily. You are hereby relieved of your mission duties. Call us if anything comes up. Over."

With that, Keller began to sidestep towards the wall, his gun still intent on the balcony. After he reached the wall, he slumped down and took cover by a rack of chairs.

---

"Extraction?" Thought the man in the shadows, "He's leaving?" A mix of anxiety and relief overcame him, as his mission was almost complete. The only remaining question was this: was he discovered? If he was discovered, then the man had no choice but to kill the Sergeant and take cover in a nearby building. That was the worst-case scenario by far; if he killed the Sergeant then there would undoubtably be more forces combing the area. On the other hand, if he was discovered, it would take no more than a tactical precision weapon to end his life and his mission.

Another chunk of plaster fell, and the man in the shadows made a dash for the stairs that connected the balcony with the ground floor amidst the noise. After the third echo of the crash had reverberated through the room, he froze. A small patch of sunlight hit his chest, reflecting light off of the golden nameplate that read "Jackhammer".

---

Keller had returned to his alert state after the second scrap of ceiling hit the floor. He became nervous; his heart rate quickened, he breathing became heavier, his eyes became moving faster. Keller was ready for anything. He was tense, he was active, he was ready. He made a mad dash for the exit, and made it to the base of the balcony before slamming parallel to the wall with his pistol at the ready. That clapping noise echoed throughout the hall like a clap of thunder, shaking all that stood in the way of the shockwaves.

Thoughts of thunder ran through Keller's mind, and on impulse, he took aim at the lights that hung over the balcony. Three shots sounded it fairly quick succession before catching the chains that held the stagelights up. The metal boxes that once irradiated the stage with light came crashing down and splintered the wooden apron on impact. Clouds of dust arose and shot through the hall like a sandstorm. Keller saw his chance and made a break for the door, ramming it open and fleeing into the sunset.

---

Jackhammer was taken aback, but was not stunned by these actions. Surprised but cool-headed, he descended down the stairs with relative silence, adjusting the scope on his rifle with every step like a perfectly-oiled machine. At the moment that he reached the last stair, he was taken aback by a cloud of dust and debris from the recent explosion. Keeping his balance, but remaining disoriented, Jackhammer threw his weight forward, striking the spot where Keller had been resting not ten seconds before. After re-evaluating his bearings, Jackhammer dashed out of the former cathedral and began his search for higher ground.

A nearby alleyway was Jackhammer's saving grace, as it housed many abandoned apartments and fire exits. After some quick acrobatics, he was maneuvering the many steps that led to the top of the building. Every second was critical, every step was a potential mistake, but Jackhammer remained flawless. Leaps and bounds later, his feet met the familiar gravel that was a rooftop, and Jackhammer began scanning the ground for his target.

---

Keller had caught a glimpse of his assailant in the reflection of a broken window. He weaved amongst the debris the cluttured the streets in a desperate attempt to escape his impending doom. Keller could hear the clanging and the ringing of the metal that Jackhammer ran along, and it was closing in on him. Every step made Keller more and more anxious, each pace was one towards doom. Facing fatigue with an adrenaline overdose, so to speak, Keller collapsed in an alley and began to observe himself in a shard of broken glass. Where had his life led him? Where did he go wrong.

After looking into his own eye, Keller looked at the mess he had become. It was then that he noticed a red dot painted over his heart. It was over.

Click. Snipe. Thump.