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Ichiro Soroson - Killed (Closed); For the Assassin Wars
Topic Started: Jul 14 2005, 12:20 PM (55 Views)
Heart of Cruelty
Unregistered

5:00 AM
Target, after returning home at 11:03 PM the previous night, is currently sleeping. Observations show that upon returning, the target, Ichiro Soroson, removes the Kevlar vest indicated in the report and dons a matching flannel set of reds, whites, and blacks. Approximately 15 minutes were spent in the bathroom. Afterwards, the target checks a drawer on the side of his bed. He checks the magazine in a firearm that appears to be a semi-automatic pistol. Model is unknown.

After scouting the area, I have found 3 ideal locations for the sniping. All three are spying in from the bathroom window, each at a different angle. I’ve made the necessary calculations for the shot, and they all fit perfectly. The only remaining thing to do now is to pick which one would best suit me.


8:36 AM
Ichiro Soroson, at 8:36 AM, left his apartment and is en route to the nearest Police Station. No unusual actions are seen, though today he did order out for his lunch. Before eating, he asks a lower officer if he/she wishes for a bite it seems. No audio was included, so this is merely an assumption. The target seems to be more cautious than I thought. The preparations for to-

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“Mister! Mister!”

A little boy tugged at Kage’s hand…or at least his disguised hand. Smiling up at the soon-to-be murderer, the little boy pointed at one of the balloons that Kage was holding.

“Can I get one?”

Seething inwardly, Kage merely struck a pose, the large foam mascot head nearly suffocating him as he handed the boy a balloon. But that was the worst possible thing to do…

“Hey! This guy’s handing out free balloons!”

Almost immediately, an entire group of kids swarmed Kage. Kicking, screaming, punching, and pain was all that the assassin remembered as he laid there, foot imprints and dents left in his furry suit and his foam head. Groaning as he crawled away, Kage made a mental note to never use that disguise again.
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Several hours later, Kage was poised at a rooftop to the anterior of Ichiro’s own apartment, specifically the window looking directly into his bathroom. It had been tough to figure out a way to mask the light given off by his bow without hindering any of the effectiveness of the shot, but he had managed. By focusing the aura to a finite area, he was able to make the aura of energy around his chain settle down to a low glow as opposed to the usual fiery appearance it had to it. The only bad thing was, now he had only one shot to do this all in.

Kage’s legs were steadily cramping up. He had been on the rooftop since 9:00 PM sharp. The preparations had taken less time than he had originally estimated, but it was always good to leave an extra 30 or so minutes just in case. Keeping his head down and focused on that window nearly a football field away. Smirking, he pulled up the facemask he had brought with him. The material was merely there to cover the majority of his face should there be any way to identify him. But even with a satellite, he had taken that into account and kept his head facing downwards at the exact angle to block any identification. Raising one hand in front of his face, Kage pointed both his pointer and middle finger straight upwards as he took a deep breath. Closing his eyes slowly, Kage let out a sharp breath as he whispered out to nothing.

“Junseigan…”

Almost immediately, Kage’s entire line of vision was zoomed in. The very objects on Ichiro’s sink were visible to him, and not just visible, but he could read even the fine print on his Listerine bottle. Now all he had to do was wait…

11:45:43 PM
Target has entered his home. Though I can only see the silohuette of his body, I can see the trench coat, Kevlar vest included, being taken off. Soroson is currently opening the bathroom door; it’s now or never. Target has just begun to rinse his face. Killing shot is loaded and ready.

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“…Ichiro Soroson, for crimes against the very fiber of law and justice…your life shall be taken.”

Pulling back on the almost gossamer like bow string of energy, Kage gazed at Ichiro’s every action through the enhanced scope of his Junseigan. A thin bolt of energy formed between his hand and the arc of the bow as he held it sideways, his eyes watching carefully as Ichiro began to splash water onto his face. The grizzled appearance of the late 20’s man was rather unbecoming, but it wouldn’t matter soon anyways.

Reaching the full length that his arm would pull back, Kage’s fingers began to bleed as the string-like thread of energy cut into his skin. Keeping his gaze on Ichiro, he waited for just the right moment. It would have to be right between the eyes. Just as Soroson turned to reach for the towel, Kage saw the man’s face, completely normal, as he let loose the bolt.
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It was getting cold in the bathroom. Turning to the window, Soroson saw it open and groaned. It had jammed…again. Sighing, he merely brushed it off and began thinking of the future. After just a few more months, he’d have enough money to afford a better life, one without windows that jammed or late-night shifts. Just a little while longer and he’d be able to live on Easy Street. Sighing, Soroson turned to reach for his towel.

No sound was made as the arrow hurtled towards the unsuspecting cop. It cut through the air like a hot butter through knife as Soroson reached for the towel on the rack next to him. Turning to face right out the door, he saw a tiny blip of red in the night sky.

“Huh…shooting star. Maybe I ought to make a wish.”

Laughing at his own joke, he froze as he looked up in wide-eyed horror as the “shooting star” began hurtling towards him. In the mere blink of an eye, Soroson’s face was frozen in a permanent tableau of horror as the bolt pierced him through the skull, only to burn up and disappear into thin air as he teetered forwards and landed perfectly, his gut catching on the window and causing his body to fold out the window.

Hanging there like some sick, string-less puppet, Ichiro Soroson bled slowly and steadily, the blood dripping down unto the railing outside his bathroom as the sounds of the nightlife raged all around him. From another rooftop, a young teen merely turned away, white eyes gleaming in the darkness as he disappeared from the scene.

“Mission…success.”
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