Golden light spewed from the ample window of the banquet hall. Through his scope, your frame was the polestar amidst the lot, dressed to nine, glowing, champagne in hand, and a bounty on your head.

A volatile elite even amongst the bon ton— spinning sums of fortune and political influence to be held a threat, the motive of his presence on the rooftop tonight.

Freezing in spot, to his awe, you veered, glaring back through the scope of his sniper with a smile, blowing him a mock kiss.