TEXT, JULY 23RD

[sogekihei]

I'm bored.

Does anybody want Chroma?

No, I don't do hand holding. Or hugging. So don't ask.

Comments

[distort]

That is a dangerous desire, monsieur. You cannot be so bored that you tire of living.

[sogekihei]

I think you’d keel over from the lack of Chroma first. Rifles are heavy, you know.

I’m a nice person though, so I’m willing to let you try...

You can meet me at the park today.

I hope I haven’t scared you off.

[distort]

My Widow's Kiss fits me better than a glove, you have no need to be concerned on my behalf. Save it for yourself.

I will be there at sundown.

[sogekihei]

[ this park isn't particularly lively today, but still teeming with citizens nonetheless. couples, families, friends, all lingering about, admiring the sunset with some kind of forlorn nostalgia.

there is nothing remarkable about the way ogata dresses today — slacks and a hoodie, just to conceal his face a bit better and keep his rifle stowed away. when nobody is quite looking, he climbs up one of the trees situated near the corner, but still within proximity of the very center of the lot. it's a good vantage point, one that provides him with a decent scope.

he fishes his binoculars out, doing little more than watching for a good 15 minutes.

...but then he decides to strip off his hoodie. he positions it further down along the tree's crown, using a brach in his attempt to create some kind of illusion.

and he waits again. ]

[distort]

[ Having truly nothing better to do with her time, Widowmaker heads directly for the park. She's there about three hours early -- one hour is spent in a stroll, familiarizing herself with the terrain. In particular she eyes the high points, places that might serve as a perch, an escape route, a landing for a grappling hook.

By the second hour she's settled down and picked her perch -- a thick and leafy tree toward the outskirts. With just a little shifting to see around leaves, she has near the entire park held within her scope.

It's a lucky thing, too, or she might have missed the quick ascension of a particular man in the other corner of the park. That must be her man. She doesn't miss him, nor does she miss that empty hoodie left to stir in an illusion of life a little further down. Clever.

Feeling magnanimous, Widowmaker fires off exactly one perfect shot. It goes with a thundercrack, startling any lingering denizens of the park into jolts and starts, and it pierces through the leaves and directly through the empty head of the hoodie, forehead level. Hello, over there. ]