The wind blows his brown strands, the ghost of a caress chilling his spine with threatening blades.

He had meant to retire just before this job. He had grew tired of playing knife for anonymous bastards, his actions dehumanizing him a little further. But his boss had insisted, saying that this one time would be « an awesome shot ».

High on the roof, Ace's throat is thight with sheer disblief. Forcing the air out of his lungs, his chest pained. Ached.

This couldn't be. No. Anyone but her.

But here she stood, on the opposite window, in all of her damnable glory. He was bewitched, body and soul.

His thumb hovered on his sniper's triger, guilt gnawking at his insides like fate itself punished him for his sins.

For he was strong. The strongest, even.

But it all came crashing in milions of pieces at the sight of his only weakness.

Her.

Standing across from him on the balcony, nursing a drink of shimmering gold. She was older now, but how could he forget those eyes he once used to love.