The Most Uncool Assassination in the World

Sidney Monroe, who may or may not be the world's best sniper, set his crosshairs on his latest target: the richest person in human history.
“Jeb Tusk?”

“Surprise!” Operation Director Ira Dulles hugged his shoulders in celebrations as she sat next to him. “Happy assassination day Sidney!”

“Jesus Ira, you didn’t tell me this was gonna be such a high-profile case!” Laying prone with his rifle, he found it difficult to brush her hands off. “I didn’t think I was gonna be making a fucking event in world history! That’s not what I prepared for!”

“Ugh, don’t be such a bitch.” Ira gave him a light shove, putting his sights out of alignment. “You knew you were gonna kill someone today. What would you have done different?”

“Maybe I would've had a second cup of coffee.” Sidney grumbled. He could see the effects of slight jitters in his hand as he repositioned his scope. “Or maybe no coffee. I don’t know.”

“Such a diva. You got the shot?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna need a few minutes to do some calculations.” Sidney sighed. “Hand me my stuff.”

Ira stood up, dusting off her butt and thighs before bringing Sidney his briefcase. He unlocked it and took out the supplies that always accompanied his rifle: a small notebook, a pencil and instruments for measuring the wind, elevation and temperature. Fully equipped, he made himself as comfortable as he could on the small rocky ridge. The ground at least had a nice contour so his back wasn’t too stiff, but he questioned whether this bare patch on the grassy hillside he found himself on was really the best location to tag the target, or if it was just the one spot where Ira wouldn’t get green stains on her suit.

They were quiet for a minute or so as Sidney began the process of setting up his shot. It takes a lot of preparation to kill someone with a single bullet from miles away. Sidney had to take measurements of the average wind speed, the temperature, moisture in the air, pressure differential between here and the target at lower elevation, just to name a few of the routine impediments. Furthermore, the target was in the corner office of a busy, multi-level building, and they wanted to avoid any unnecessary witnesses, let alone casualties. Everything had to be just right.

Ira paced back and forth. More than once, Sidney noticed her reach into her pocket, take on an expression of mild confusion and panic for a second, remember that they couldn’t bring their phones for security reasons, and go back to kicking pebbles. She sighed.

“Soooo, don’t you want to know why the Agency wants you to kill Jeb Tusk?”

“Of course I do. I assume it’s beyond my clearance level though.”

“For sure.” she confirmed. “It’s for the inheritance tax.”

The sound of Sidney’s pencil suddenly stopped. “The inheritance tax?”

“Yeah. You know how there’s this huge deficit they can’t get out of? It’s cause the taxation’s all fucked up. The poor people don’t have enough to cover it, and a lot of them are exempt or get welfare anyway. And the rich people who can bail us out don’t pay anything because of the Republicans.”

Sidney’s brow furrowed. He didn’t know much about economics, nor did he know just how rich Jeb Tusk was, but something didn’t seem to add up. Unless… “Wasn’t there something about taxes being raised in New Jersey recently?”

“Yeah I think that’s part of the whole thing.” She spiral with her finger. “Since he changed his official address to New Jersey a while ago when he was doing that fucking space project or whatever. The lawmakers prob’ly have no idea what we’re doing though. I hope.”

“And even after that bombed he’s still rich enough to cover the national deficit with just the inheritance tax?”

Ira shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know all the details of how much money goes where, but I’ve been assured that it’s worth it.”

“It’s worth it to kill him just for being rich? Isn’t that the American dream or something though?”

“Mmh, he mostly got rich from his own inheritance, and stayed that way through fraud.” Ira offered as reassurance. “And during surveillance we found out he’s definitely an abuser and a racist, if that makes you feel better.”

It did make Sidney feel better. It wasn’t his place to question his assignments in the first place. Even so, he didn’t have one more. “Why by sniper though? Wouldn’t poison be less suspicious?”

Ira shook her head. “I wish it were that easy. I tried that first, but it turns out he pretty much only eats fast food, and it’s way harder to coordinate than you’d think.” She plopped back down on the ground next to Sidney, like just thinking about it exhausted her. “Like, who knew how much chaos was going on behind the scenes at McDonalds? First guy I planted found out there was a meth dealership over the counter! He saw an undercover cop trying to buy, but then the cop stabbed him for holding out! Ohmygod it was a shitshow, and that was less than a week in! Had to wait a month before someone else would sign up. And then-”

“I get it! No fast food poisoning. I’ll shoot him.” Sidney sighed, grieving the loss of his favorite guilty pleasure. “And here I thought I might get a McRib after this.”

“Oh I didn’t get to the reasons you don’t want a McRib.”

Sidney tried to ignore the queasiness starting to churn in his stomach by turning his attention back to calculus so he could spray another man’s brain matter onto the walls and floor around him. Tusk was surrounded mostly by non-bulletproof glass facing the hillscape they were on. He could be killed from nearly anywhere nearby, but Ira had chosen this specific spot because it was the least conspicuous, or so she had said. Maybe that was because it was such a difficult shot that no one would suspect the sniper to have been here.

“I’m gonna need some more time.” Sidney said. “Is he gonna stay put for a while? No visitors?”

“Nah, he always locks himself in his office for a few hours this time of day. Says it’s his ‘prime productive hours.’ He mostly spends his time on Twitter and Reddit though.”

Sidney’s pencil slowed to a stop again as he did another type of calculation. “So he’s just killing time, pretending to work like he’s milking the clock? What for? Isn’t he the CEO of 3 companies?”

“Technically 4. I think it’s literally just for appearances.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “He’s not even doing anything fun. I thought I was lame for playing online Snake on my work computer when I first joined the Agency.”

Ira shot to her feet. “You were playing games at work?”

Right away Sidney realized his mistake. He had gotten careless talking to Ira. She was so casual, he had been lulled into a carefree conversation like they were equals. Despite his status as a sniper, she outclassed him by several ranks. They were not equals, and he just confessed to goofing off on government time.

“You played an online game on a CIA computer? A specialized device connected to the rest of the Agency’s intranet, jeopardizing the cybersecurity of one of the largest, most powerful government agencies in the world?” Ira stepped closer to Sidney, towering over him as he lay prone on the ground. Any warmth in her voice replaced by a threatening chill. “Your IP address could have been traced by an anarchist rebel. Or a KGB agent. You could be charged with treason.”

Sidney began sweating, first from his neck, then from his back and down his buttocks. He couldn’t bear to look at her. Every rock and bump seemed to sharpen under his torso. Burning bridges with the CIA had far worse consequences than harming his next job search.

Ira squatted next to him, drilling a hole in his temple with her eyes. “And you did it all during federally paid hours? Effectively embezzling funds from the U.S. government and every taxpayer in the country?” She held her gaze, unrelenting.

“Muh-” Sidney stuttered. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “Ms. D-Director Dulles, I…”

Her expression cracked into a contorted grin. Then broke completely as she cackled and howled.

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAOhmygod dude, I’m fucking with you!” She could barely get the words out between fits of laughter. She stood up part way, hunched over holding her side with one hand and pointing at Sidney with the other. “Hoooly shit your fucking face! I can’t…” She continued cackling with schadenfreude.

Sidney’s fear was replaced by humiliation, washed down with a chaser of relief. He let out a deep sigh, the rocky terrain now feeling more comforting than ever. “Hah, yeah you really got me.” he said humorlessly.

“You really said ‘Ms. Director Dulles’ that’s so good!” Ira’s laughter eventually fell in volume and pitch as she calmed down. She straightened herself out and cleared her throat. “Yeah, I got really into Tetris for a while when I started. I think everyone does it.”

Sidney was glad not to be under suspicion of treason, but didn’t want to stay out with Ira any longer than he had to. He turned his attention back to work, finally almost ready to kill Jeb Tusk in his office.

“Oh godDAMMIT!” he yelled.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ira, now alert and businesslike. “Did he leave? Is security onto us? Someone else in the room?”

“No, he just started masturbating!”

“Eew what! No way, lemme see!”

Sidney scooted over to let Ira peek through his scope to confirm that the world’s richest man was pleasuring himself in his office while he claimed to be working.

“Ugh gross.” She stood up and took a few steps away, deflated. “Well now this whole thing seems kinda… unsportsmanlike?”

“You brought me here to kill him with a sniper rifle from miles away.”

“Mmmmhh…”

“But only with his pants up.”

“Yyyyeeea…” she wavered. “I dunno, it’s just like, uncool now. Y’know?”

“I mean, he’s definitely uncool… and I don’t feel cool either…”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“But the mission is the same.”

“Hm.”

“And why should it matter how ‘cool’ it is?”

“I just-” Ira started. Sidney was surprised to see her struggling for words. She continued, “When I got the order to take out the wealthiest guy that’s ever been, I thought it would be the greatest challenge of my career. But this guy turned out to be such a loser, and the cause is kinda ‘meh’ y’know. I thought having you kill him with this extra hard trick shot would at least make it at least seem like we did something monumentous.”

Sindey took a moment to process. “So you had us hike out here just to make it more like a spy thriller movie?”

“Shut up!” Sidney could see Ira’s cheeks start to blush pink before she turned around. He had never seen her so vulnerable before. He reviewed his work, grimacing as he took another look down the scope. It had taken a while, but he was finally almost ready to pull the trigger. It really was a difficult shot, and it would be a shame to let all that work go to waste.

“What if we’re not doing a thriller? What if it’s actually a comedy?” Sidney said. Ira stayed facing away, but her ears perked up. “Wouldn’t this be the funniest way for him to be found?”

Ira took a turn to furrow her brow, pondering the fallout. “They’ll find him with his pants and his brains on the floor-

“Making him the most uncool of all.” Sidney finished.

Ira returned a devilish grin stretching all the way across her face. “Sidney Monroe, you sick bitch. I’m gonna get you a fucking raise.”

Sidney made the last of his calculations, adjusted his rifle by a few millimeters, and pulled the trigger on the most uncool promotion of his career.