"He's a pig. He needs to be taken down sooner or later." Overture looked toward Grave. "If we're not going to do it, someone else will."

Grave stared hard at his calloused hands, clasped together with his elbows propped on his knees. He didn't look in Overture's face, didn't want his boss to see the doubt in his eyes. He had never gave any job a second thought, but this one...

Overture looked toward the window, watching the misty figures wander past. "Not many sharpshooters in the world. No one else can do it as clean as you can."

"If he goes down, Reeves takes his place. He's smarter than Gordon. And dangerous. We could be making it worse." Grave felt that familiar headache throbbing at the back of his head.

"Things aren't going to get better with him in power regardless." It was a truth that Grave found impossible to refute. Overture leaned on the table, the wood letting out a gentle creak. "Gordon's Peace Keeper Act went through. In about a week, all of us are are going to be his little dogs whether we like it or not."

Grave looked up at Overture. "Once Reeves gets into power, he's going to take us out regardless." Overture turned his gaze away. "He can't be found consorting with the assassins of the great Gordon. We'd be a threat to his power."

Overture was silent for a while, knowing full well the thoughts on Grave's mind. Hired by Gordon's political rival to take down one man's threat to the peace of the city in order to help put into power another man with warfare in mind to resurrect a failing economy. Depose of Reeves in the name of peace and the city goes without a leader. Surrounding cities would seize the opportunity and attack regardless. It was a lose-lose situation. Overture let out a sigh. "We'll deal with that when it comes to it."

"All clear."

Grave blinked, snapping out of his thoughts and glanced at the petite woman standing beside him as she tapped him briefly on the shoulder before progressing down the hallway. He spat the cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it under his boot before rounding the corner and following closely behind Elegy.

The brown-haired woman moved swiftly down the hallway, her pistol held at the ready as she paused briefly at the side of another entrance. Grave sidled up beside her, shifting the weight of his lengthy suitcase, containing his sniper rifle.

"Clear." Elegy turned into the entrance, her pistol flashing from side to side, then up along the metal staircase, rusted with age. The staircase ran upward for several stories, light streaming down from the crumbling parts of walls. The entire building was run down, set to be torn down in place of some government building or shopping mall or the like. It was already bare, all the windows taken out, all the decorations and flooring gone, and best of all, it was tall. It offered countless vantage points of the square below and blended in, most of the buildings around undergoing some sort of renovation. Of course, the building was in disrepair, virtually a skeleton of its previous state which made hiding a sniper rather difficult. They would have to pick their position carefully.

The two scaled up several flights before the staircase terminated at the seventh or eight floor, Grave had lost count. They moved past hallways illuminated by sunlight, Elegy constantly halting their progress to check the surroundings. Grave turned into one room, curtains rustling with the breeze against the window. He moved up against the window, setting his case on the ground to peek outside.

"How's this one?" Elegy entered the room, kicking aside a dirtied sheet on the ground where a bed had once been. She kept an eye on the door, her pistol held upright.

Grave studied the view with a frown, his fingers absentmindedly searching the inside coat pocket for another cigarette. "It'll do. Go scout the area."

"Yes, sir."

The first thing Grave noticed was the massive grey canopy erected over top the wooden stage. It had completely covered Gordon and his cabinet underneath from the eyes of hopeful snipers. The surrounding streets were filled with people, separated from enormous canopy by a series of red cables. On the other side of the cable, barely visible from underneath the canopy stood those six elite bodyguards, all pacing around with their eyes fixed on the crowd, namely the factions of people who looked down upon Gordon's methods. From here he could see them, conservationists and peace lovers, waving their signs rather harmlessly. There were enough people out there who hated Gordon and most of them would be here, no doubt. Gordon's guards would have themselves stretched out keeping them in check, perhaps just enough so that he and his team could take the opportunity. At least, that was what he hoped.

He dragged a discarded table up against the window and put another cigarette to his lips before opening his suitcase, his eyes turning toward the mass of people. He could pick out the guards roaming the crowds, most of them dressed in nondescript suits and sunglasses, hands fixed in their coats and on weapons, he was sure. Grave spotted Rest and Sharp in the crowd, the two moving apart from each other with their hands buried in their pockets and their faces turned downward. Grave put a set of binoculars pulled from his suitcase to his eyes, turning to look at the building adjacent to his.

It was a slightly less dilapidated than the building he was in, more sheltered windows and just as many sniper positions. Hopefully, a place that Gordon's guards would keep an eye on as opposed to his building. That was where his boss Overture and second in command Finale had gone. The two heads of their organization, at the front line of an assassination of an important political figure. Acting as another diversion of all things.

"All clear, Grave." Elegy entered the room again, her boots making soft thumps on the concrete floor. She shook a strand of her straight brown hair out of her eyes. She moved beside Grave, taking the binoculars he handed to her. "What's the signal again?"

Grave picked up his sniper, feeling its familiar weight. "A red cloth hanging from a window." He bit his cigarette, absentmindedly chewing its end as he assembled the weapon, equipping the scope, then checking all the parts. "Keep your eyes peeled for it. It's small."

"This is for Sharp and Rest, isn't it?" Elegy swept the face of the building. "Yeah, I see it."

Grave propped his weapon up on the table, careful to keep the long barrel mostly within the room. "Eyes on the target," he muttered. "Things are about to get busy."