I'm Just A Crosshair

[etcircenses]

Who| The chosen assassins and President Snow.
What| An assassination takes place.
Where| The Presidential mansion.
When| Now.
Warnings/Notes| Death.

It is criminally easy entering the president’s mansion. There’s a guard here and there but they are not nearly as vigilant as they should be. Most seem absent entirely. The grounds are empty, white only with slow melting snow. Getting here was similarly simple and navigating the building seems to be keeping to the pattern.

The scent of roses permeates the whole place but there’s a sharper, more metallic scent just underneath. The smell is no stronger anywhere than it is in the main office that Snow awaits within.

He looks up and greets with a smile. He sips his drink and sets it down, ignoring the blood that spreads within the water.

Comments

[leiche]

It shouldn't be this easy. This is the Capitol, a heavily armed military city in the middle of a war with at least half of it's citizens. And Jeremy remembers full well from his days as a Capitol soldier that not much gets away from under their controlling grasp - they have eyes everywhere, and they're unforgiving.

And somehow, they haven't even been approached yet. It's unsettling to say the least, and the further into the mansion they get the stronger the feeling of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach gets. But they've come too far now to back out, and despite the complete lack of security and attention on them, they do have a task to carry out. He'd hate to have to return to the rebel district to report a failed mission, especially considering his earlier eagerness to accept such an important assignment (anything he can do to help their cause, to help ease the guilt from his shoulders, and to get back at them for what he'd done under their control.)

But Jeremy still feels uneasy as they make their way further inside. He's sure his companion feels the same way, with the heavy tension in the air getting thicker the closer they get to their ... uh, target, he supposes. Jeremy's fingers still shake as he grips his bow tighter, but the need to notch an arrow and get ready for retaliation has seemingly vanished, along with the presence of any bodyguards or armed forces. Or even a butler.

So when they finally do reach their target, Jeremy steps back closer to the doorway, the all too familiar feeling of panic starting to seep in.

"Okay, this can't be good."

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi's thoughts are lining up in a similar direction as Jeremy's as they sneak their way into President Snow's mansion. Though sneak is an overestimation of whatever it is that they're doing, since... There doesn't seem to be anyone to sneak around. The building is empty save for maybe a singular guard or two, and even then it's laughably simple to wait until they're looking the other way. This was child's play, and she knows well enough that the Capitol is much better than this.

She almost calls it off, but there's too much riding on this to turn back empty handed. Not for the first time, Terezi wishes she had her abilities available to her. What she wouldn't give to be able to scry into the future and find out if they were walking head-long into a very obvious trap.

But neither of them make the call to turn back, not even when they finally find their target sitting calmly in his office. He smiles like he invited them here, and every bone in her body is telling her to run. But this is the man who caused all of this. All of their suffering for years and years on end. She's here now, and she's not leaving until he's paid for those crimes with his life.

She hears Jeremy speak, and frowns, voicing her agreement. "Probably not. But it's not going to be good for anybody here." Snow included. Where Jeremy steps back, she holds her ground, turning her attention to the President and resisting the urge to bare her teeth at him. "Your entourage is a little sparse today. What's the matter? Running out of lies to pay them with?"

[drivensnow]

Snow only lets out a small chuckle in response to her words as he looks between the two of them. He's perfectly calm, the smile not leaving his lips. "Not at all," he says simply. "In fact, it is on my orders that they've been sent away." Another sip of tea is taken, and Snow coughs gently, wiping his mouth with a napkin that stains pink with blood. "It would be rude, after all, for them to interrupt us."

He clasps his hands together on his desk and leans forward. "I must confess I'm a little rusty, it's been a while since I've had visitors. You can understand why, of course. But would you like a cup of tea? Or would you rather get things over with quickly? Instant gratification is rarely as pleasing as you expect. You might as well enjoy yourself."

[leiche]

If he didn't think something was fishy before, hearing the Panem president speak so calmly and admit that everyone had been sent away on purpose certainly sealed the deal. Jeremy's not sure exactly where they went wrong but he can only assume - they'd probably been found out, their messages intercepted or a spy in the rebel district had relayed their mission to the Capitol higher-ups. But if that is the case, that still doesn't answer the question of where everyone else is. Are they preparing for an ambush?

The thought does have him worried more and Jeremy notches an arrow quickly, turning around to watch out the door, expecting to hear thundering footsteps of the Capitol's armies marching through the halls towards them any second now. At least his mission companion is more confident, but it's just a matter of time before something else happens, and then they're in really big trouble.

"Maybe we should just go," Jeremy mutters to his companion, keeping an eye on the door in case that ambush does happen. "They knew we were coming ..."

[pythianjudgment]

There's no way that he would let them kill him that simply. Terezi knows this, and yet she wants to go for it anyway. It feels like a trap any way you slice it, but if they're going to be captured, she wants to make it worth it. She wants to make sure that if she dies here--if she breaks all those promises she made--it won't be for nothing. If they cut the snake's head off, it will be over.

Her ears flick a little at the sound of Jeremy's voice beside her, but she doesn't turn to him. "We're not leaving. If anyone shows up, you shoot Snow first." She says it calm and a touch cold, brokering no room for debate. This man has a crime to pay for--but first, she wants answers while they still have time to demand them.

"We don't want your tea. Or your hospitality. Why did you bring us here in the first place? I know it wasn't to spare the districts, so don't lie to me. Why us? Why the experiments on the Peacekeepers?" Why keep their bodies for research? Why hoard the scientists from District Three? "What are you up to?"

[drivensnow]

A small chuckle escapes his lips and President Snow leans back a little in his chair. He's more than willing to let them talk it out amongst themselves- after all, he's exactly where he needs to be and he has no intention of going anywhere any time soon. At her question, he shrugs vaguely.

"Up to?" He asks, reaching out to thumb the handle of his teacup. "I think it's obvious what I'm up to," he continues. "Tea and company."

But that's enough playing around, and he turns serious once more. "Miss Pyrope, Mr. Fitzgerald... answer me this. What do you really think killing me is going to accomplish? Will it make you feel better? Will it change things? Because from where I'm sitting, I can tell you that it won't."

For more reasons than one.

[leiche]

Yeah, this is definitely not going well.

Jeremy's never been an assassin before. He's never had a secret (supposedly, that's thrown out the window by now--) mission to infiltrate a government building and eliminate a target before, but he's read plenty of mystery novels and he's pretty sure it's the worst possible sign when the target is sitting there expecting you. Sipping tea all the while, no less.

They're dead. He's certain of that.

So ... Hell with it, he supposes. Since when is dying a big deal anymore, anyway?

"Probably not. Probably won't change a goddamn thing." Jeremy shrugs, glancing at his companion (idly wishing he could carry himself with that level of confidence and tell the bastard off like that--) before he grabs an arrow, notching it to his bow and drawing it taught. He aims right for Snow's throat; it's considerably different from a practice dummy, but there's only the slightest tremble in his fingertips this time.

"It'd be a pretty good start, though."

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi is glad that her partner is taking this seriously. They don't have the time for panic, and she doesn't need the distraction of trying to keep him together. It doesn't feel like the well-oiled machine that her and Vriska were, or founded in trust like her and Initiate. But there's a level of cohesiveness that when she tells him to stay focused on Snow, he listens. He hasn't abandoned her yet, so that's a point in his favor.

Snow on the other hand is only losing points. Naturally, he doesn't answer her questions. She didn't really expect one, but it would have been nice to wrap this up easy. Instead he waxes on about the importance of his death, and Terezi's glad to hear that her and Jeremy are on the same page.

"You murdered all those innocent people in District Three. There are decades of dead children on your hands. I don't care if the war stops here or not. Those people deserve justice, and you won't be around to see the end of it either way."

[metalicarus]

This was nothing new in the act itself. He'd killed dozens under the cover of shadows or masks or air, an assassin in and out before those around the target could react, all in the name of America. The government couldn't be seen getting their hands dirty, so send in the secret weapon, the agent with no files but the ones buried so deep no one but maybe the Gilmore Foundation could find them. This was the same, kill in the name of Panem in secret because the man behind the message said so. And yet here were others sent as well and he hadn't been ordered to fall back and things fell into a place that laid out the basics of a plan Jet could only start to imagine.

He's no better than a shadow in his corner while he waits, quiet and listening. He keeps his eyes and attention on the man behind the desk and not on the girl so close for the first time in ages. If he merely reached out to her, got her attention for only a second- but he couldn't. Just as he couldn't let them be the ones to kill President Snow.

They weren't wrong, this felt rotten in every way and he wanted so badly to let Fitzgerald's arrow fly and let the chaos unfold, but an invisible axe was suspended over Albert's head and if Jet missed or failed, he'd cut the rope holding it up himself. There wasn't a choice.

He moved, but it made no sound, the weapon he'd been given aimed right for Snow's face. A tool attached to a puppet aimed right at the puppeteer. He hoped she'd forgive him if she ever found out how much, or even how little, he knew.

Jet pulled the trigger. The weapon fired from the shadows, hitting it's target dead-on as the assassin slunk back into the deeper shadows and out the window he'd come in.

[drivensnow]

For just a brief moment, Snow is afraid. He doesn't let it show, but he grips the teacup tighter. If they kill him before Jet- well, it's all over. But he has faith. This is, once again, exactly where he wants to be. His eyes flicker to the shadows- and in that moment the gunshot rings out, he almost has time to smile.

There's a flash of light, the buzz of electricity and Snow's body disintegrates completely. His teacup is knocked over, spilling tea all over his table and dripping onto the floor. It's the only remaining evidence that the president had been sitting there,

Either way, President Snow is no more.

[leiche]

Jeremy's never been an assassin before. He'd never killed or even hurt anyone in all his life back home, and the closest he ever came to death was when he was surrounded by it at that restaurant, narrowly escaping a gruesome fate of his own. His only experiences had been in the battlefields, when he had no other choice or he was under the Capitol's control. Still, despite all that, Jeremy's at least fairly certain that human bodies aren't supposed to do that.

The sound of gunshots aren't unfamiliar to him now, but it's unexpected given the situation (arrows don't go bang, and his is still notched in his bow--) and since he's traveling with a companion, it's second nature by now for him to quickly step forward in front of Terezi and block any other potential shots. Between the two of them, he has to be the less important and valuable one.

No other shots come, however. There's only the one, and it's embedded in what was once President Snow's skull. There's a prolonged period of silence, waiting for that ambush or second round of gunfire or something before Jeremy shudders, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead as he withdraws his weapon and steps aside once they're in the clear.

"I'm-- I'm not the only one who saw that, right?"

His mind's known to play an awful lot of tricks on him more often than not, but this really takes the cake.

[pythianjudgment]

If this situation were any less serious, Terezi might have corrected Jeremy's assumption that she'd seen anything... But now really isn't the time for jokes like that. As soon as the shot goes off and Snow fizzles out in a flash of light, Terezi's jerking around to try and smell who had fired the shot. She knows the direction it came from, but there's no one there for her to find.

What she finds instead is Jeremy stepping between her and their mysterious assassin--or the direction that they must have been in. He acts like some kind of bodyguard, and that leaves her with a weird feeling of gratitude that she doesn't want to admit to. The shot itself had rattled her, bringing back that memory of being shot in District 12. That fear still lingers, even when she tries to suppress it.

"That definitely happened, if that's what you're asking." Whoever made the shot is probably long gone now. There's no point running after them. And if Snow was lying about sending his bodyguards away, they're most likely on their way as well.

Turning on her heel, she runs over to the desk to inspect the scene. She gives the desk a quick pat down, checks the chair and the overturned cup. Both are still warm. There was definitely a person sitting here a moment ago. As far as she can tell with her limited knowledge of this world's tech, there's no holograms or artificial set ups of any kind. Then again, when they could hide a camera on the head of a pin, she wasn't sure if she would have the ability to actually find what she's looking for in the first place.

In a burst of frustration, she kicks at the desk. "This doesn't feel right." It hasn't felt right since they started this mission, but this part especially. There was supposed to be a body--some proof that Snow was dead that would be broadcasted to the rest of Panem. She wanted the satisfaction of it so badly, and she feels like it was ripped out of her hands.

"Something is fucked up around here, but I don't think there's anything else we can do." Not unless Jeremy has any better ideas than her.