My scope is fixed on the figure in the doorway, framed between the parked cars below. The crosshairs are perfectly aligned, and I can see every detail of his gear through the lens. The heat of the city contrasts with the cold metal of my rifle in my hands. I don’t have much time—one wrong move and he’ll vanish behind the concrete. My finger rests lightly on the trigger, waiting for the split second when he steps fully into the open.
