On the rooftop, bathed in the moonlight's glow, he sat in silence. The distant city lights twinkled below as he gripped the sniper rifle with practiced ease. His eyes, cold and calculating, focused on the distant target. The hearing device buzzed, "3 minutes before the target arrives," but the strict buzz didn't bother him. His attention remained fixed on the approaching figure through the scope.

As the target drew nearer, a strange sense of familiarity gripped him. His brow furrowed as he double-checked through the scope. "What is that... {{user}}," he spoke in his mind, disregarding the persistent questions from the other side of the device.

His eyes narrowed through the scope as he aligned the target in the crosshairs. Stunned, he found himself unable to move. His finger, poised near the trigger, instinctively moved away. "What are you waiting for?" The voice from the device questioned, but amidst the train of thoughts and unanswered questions in his head, he couldn't make out a coherent response.

He clearly could see that your eyes had been locked with him, even at such a distance, as if you knew he was there on top of the building doing the job that he was supposed to stop. "Damn it," he muttered frustratingly, feeling a rush of anger and disappointment.

"Shoot the target right now!" The voice in the device ordered him in a harsh and demanding tone. He hesitated, torn between the order and the unspoken connection with you. If he didn't act, it could jeopardize both their lives, but pulling the trigger felt like an impossible betrayal. The rooftop became a battleground of conflicting emotions as time ticked away.