He tried hard to calm his breathing. Any laborious breath would make it too hard to keep his scope steady at this moment. He whispered the old litany to himself. "In His will may we find purpose. In His eyes may we find redemption. In His kingdom may we find peace. In our wrath may His foes meet justice." It helped. The scope through which he searched for the heretic became steady, and he began to calculate the most opportune locations for another shooter. It would be hard to find a target from such a great distance through so small a view, but his assistant of four years, his spotter lay dead in the street below. He was unsure of the distance, but he was sure it must be near a mile. It was clear that he had been expected. Running through a list in his mind, he could think of no more than 4 shooters in the world who could have made that shot as it had been made. He was one of them himself. It became all too clear why he'd been contacted for this mission.

He remembered the last words spoken to him by his young and idealistic assistant, just as he still remembered the last words spoken to him by the one who had come before. "This should be easy, Reverend Father," he'd said. "Nothing escapes my eyes and your rifle. Together let us defeat another heretic for God's sake!" Foolish words, as he had been sure to say even then. Even more foolish now that the boy lay with his life blood spilt all around his corpse. A loss, nonetheless. However, it was neither guilt nor mourning that had caused his breathing to become hard, and certainly not fear for his life. It was merely the twisted run through the streets and alleys of the abandoned town, merely the adrenaline coursing through his body.

There was a large old church in the center of the town with a tower climbing high into the sky. Despite its height and perfect view of the whole town, it was not where his opponent sat in waiting. He was sure of this. It was too perfect, really. He had known just who was coming for him, and anyone with that sort of information would know to keep their location much less obvious than that. In truth, he had been taken by surprise by the heretic. This was to say the least, rare. He was at the top of any list of great shooters known to man, and he knew this himself without any sense of vanity. He was no ordinary man of God, no simple priest. This man was known only as his job, as his order. He no longer had the name of his birth, and could not even remember it himself. He was now called things like Reverend Father, and at the most informal, he was called Sniper. He was indeed Sniper, the Patron Saint of the Longshot. He was the High Executioner of Venistaad, and therefore the gatekeeper to the Holy City itself. In his thirty years of working, give or take, he had never failed. None of his order ever did, save for one long ago. But then, none of his order ever stayed for as long as he.

But skill was not everything in a situation such as this. While Sniper's opponent had ample skill, more important was that he had position. He'd clearly found a good one, and could likely keep an eye out on the entire town. The trick now would be to find out where the man was, and get a good enough position to take him out. Nikolai, that was the name of his target. Not that it much mattered. He only had a vague knowledge of what the man's initial transgression had been, but afterwards he had killed a number of members of the church, a few of whom held reasonable rank. All previous attempts at removing this threat had been unsuccessful. And so the High Executioner had donned his blood red attire, and blessed the bullet that hung from the cord around his neck as he had countless times before. But where was this Nikolai?

He had managed to count out a few locations already, but was still unsure. He peered around the corner. Perhaps if he could-BANG! Sniper's thoughts were cut short as a portion of the wooden structure behind which he'd been standing was blown apart. It took only an instant for Sniper to be on the move again, ignoring the fact that he'd nearly lost his head just then. The man must have seen him move into that position and waited for him to show himself again. It was little more than luck that had allowed Sniper to stave off death just then. It had obviously been a quickly made shot made on the assumption that Sniper would not be visible for long. Luckily, he hadn't been. More importantly, he now knew a few places Nikolai definitely was not. An entire section of the town had just become an impossibility because of his former position. And that section would have to be his next move.

~

A little more than a half hour later, he'd made his way safely to the uninhabited section of the little town. He'd finally had an idea of how to end this game. Pulling it off would be a hell of a trick at this point, but it was the best way he could think of. And it would surely be unexpected at this point. From here to there it would be a mad dash into the building, and he would have to go unnoticed. Not easy. He took a deep breath, knowing it could well be his last. He knew nothing of fear. He thought nothing of death. There was only his mission. And he was moving. Running at top speed, his rifle affixed to his back and his hand tight on the handle of his pistol, the exact duplicate of the pistol of any Executioner. He pushed his shoulder into the heavy wooden doors, and gave thanks to his Lord that they weren’t locked. He had gotten this far, but now he would have to work fast, as this would be the hard part. Sniper found the stairs easily, and darted up them two at a time. The door to the chapel was just above his head. He took a moment to catch his breath, but no more than that.

“And I shall wash thee of thy sins in a rain of holy gunfire,” he whispered. It was the prayer a High Executioner spoke before killing a target, before sending them to judgment. He was unsure if he had really ever washed a target of sin before squeezing the trigger of his rifle, or his revolver, but he had decided long ago that it was God’s job to sort that out.

Once again he was moving, pulling his rifle from his back and taking its familiar grip into his hand, all the while pulling down the step ladder to the bell tower and shoving open the door. He hoisted himself inside, threw the door closed, and immediately took his firing position. Where… Where was the man he’d been racing against this whole time? Sniper scanned the rooftops, the windows, and every place he thought seemed an opportune place for that initial shot to have been taken from. Nikolai wouldn’t have moved, he would know that even Sniper wouldn’t be able to find him quickly or easily.

And there he was. On a rooftop which seemed to have a sort of canopy over it, as several of the tall structures did. More of a balcony than an actual roof, really, one that wrapped around the entire building. Then Sniper noticed something that made his heart skip a single beat. He was directly in Nikolai’s sights, just as the heretic had come into his. It had to be now, the shot had to be taken. And he took it.

At about that moment, a piece of the plaster and concrete next to his head exploded, sending small bits of shrapnel into him. He grunted in pain, and fell back. He picked up his rifle, pulled open the door below him, and began to run. Blood trickled down his side from his face. His ear was ringing very loudly. His breath was becoming labored as he ran. But he ran, and ran.

~

He stood above the ruined corpse. He had not really needed to come confirm the kill; it was more formality at this point to him. He had won, and he had known it from the moment he squeezed the trigger. The Patron Saint of the Longshot turned and began walking away slowly, starting to wipe at the blood on his face with his sleeve while he drafted his report in his mind. No major damage done, though he would be needing another new assistant. Just one more nightmare at the bottom of a bottle for the High Executioner.