Shoot First, Worry Later

Newly finished with her training, Viktoriya Zaytseva joins her father, Dmitri Zaytsev, on her first mission: targeting one of the most hated and corrupt individuals in Biko's government in hopes of gaining support for the insurrection while also creating a distraction to grab vital intelligence. With such a tight time constraint between the official's death and the lockdown of the data, the new insurrectionist and her father will have to work fast.
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"Don't shoot until I tell you. Once he goes down, we've only got one shot to grab the intel, and I'm not sure how long we've got before it's locked down. I need to be in position to make the grab."
As her father's voice sounded through her earpiece, Viktoriya's clicked her comm unit twice in affirmative, keeping her breath soft and steady. She peered through the scope of her rifle towards the courtyard about half a kilometer away. Her target, a well-dressed man of about fifty, spoke to the sparse crowd in front of him. Hovering her finger to the side of the trigger, Viktoryia steadied the crosshair over his chest, waiting for her moment to squeeze.
Even as her body remained still on the outside, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her family had grown up hunting, and Viktoriya herself had been training for over a year for this very moment, but this would still be the first human life she took. Laying there, what she was about to do flooded her mind, her breath starting to quicken, and her heart beating faster and faster. Thought after thought raced through her mind. What if he had a family? What right do I have to take his life? 
Viktoriya shut her eyes and slowly removed her hand from the rifle, panic coursing through her body.
"Okay. I'm ready. Take out the target and I'll make my move."
Her father's voice cut through the silence.
Slowly opening her eyes, Viktoriya thumbed the comms twice more and rested her cheek back on the stock of the rifle. She banished the doubts from her mind. Her father was counting on her. The insurrection was counting on her. The people of Biko were counting on her. She had every right. He should have thought about his family first...
Viktoryia slowed her breathing, feeling her heartbeat do the same. 
One deep breath in, one out. 
She took a final breath, then let it out halfway, holding it there and watching as the crosshair fell down over the target's chest once more. Viktoriya placed her finger on the trigger. She squeezed. Jumping slightly as the first shot rang out, she steeled herself against the kick she now knew and squeezed off two more shots into the target's chest.
He crumpled to the ground, and Viktoryia watched through the scope in silence, unmoving.
• • •
Dmitri Zaytsev strolled into the lobby of the local municipal building, dressed in a business suit and holding a briefcase. He blended in perfectly with the rest of the lawyers and politicians milling about the building. Waiting in line for the front desk, he looked out of the windows to the central courtyard, where a small crowd was gathered.
"How can anyone listen to that man and not throw up?"
He glanced at his watch to distract himself. Nearly a minute since his daughter had confirmed his last message.
"What was taking her so long?"
"Can I help you..."
It was at that moment that the first shot rang out, cutting the clerk off halfway through her attempt to get his attention. Looking up, Dmitri reached into his jacket and drew his sidearm as the woman ducked behind the counter. He walked around the desk and leveled it on her.
"Run outside, and everything will be fine. I don't want to hurt you. Only him."
Dmitri nodded towards the exit, watching the woman run outside before setting his briefcase down on the counter. He opened it, removing a small computer of his own and hooking it up to the municipal system. Tapping a few codes away on the keyboard, he set the intrusion program working and looked back around the room. The noise of the panicking crowd died down as they drew further, blaring alarms cutting through the air instead. Eyes flicking between the screen of his computer and the doorways as the progress bar slowly crept up, Dmitri's anxiety swelled at how long it was taking. Finally, an agonizing four minutes later, the computer chimed once. Quickly grabbing the laptop and shoving it back into his briefcase, Dmitri tapped his earpiece.
"I've got the data. I'll be coming out through the crowd, keep the police off me."
Two clicks of the comm. Walking out the door, Dmitri pushed into the crowd and made his retreat. Breaking from the crowd moments later, a police officer started to protest. But he fell, silenced, as yet another shot rang out. Climbing into his car, Zaytsev drove away to collect his daughter, their mission successful.
Category:The Weekly