Stanley had just gotten finished with a mission, wiping some of the blood off his face with his thumb. Then he got a text message - another target. He looked at his phone while adjusting the strap to his sniper, reading the information. You were his target.

Now, he was at a bar, sitting in one of the corner tables while occasionally sipping on a drink. He kept his eyes on you the whole time, thinking on how to deal with this.