Robin Parrish - Vigilante

N olan Gray gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as the pistol was aimed at his face from just inches away. The barrel of the SIG Sauer P226 was so close, he could clearly see the tiny gold anchor engraved on its left side, designating it as a standard Navy Special Forces weapon.

Beads of sweat beneath Nolans mop of unkempt hair gave way to droplets, and traced a path on his skin down to his eyes, nose, ears, and neck. He was waiting for the pain, knew it was coming any second, but despite his immense training and experience, it was still an incredible thing to know youre about to be shot.

Finally he blinked when the gun never went off.

Look... said Branford, the man across from him. His arm never wavered, his hand never shook. It was steady and sure, outstretched directly toward Nolans head. Branfords crusty voice never sounded anything but confident. His comment was one of clarification.

Nolan was becoming angry, his carefully attuned discipline threatening to falter. The moment was at hand. There wasnt time for this, not now.

The light of the moon was brighter than the nearest street lamp. Nolan glanced around, the city eerily silent at this dark hour, yet he could detect a distant bicycle, a joggerprobably female, from the sound of the footfallsand someone coughing. Sooner or later one of these passersby was going to cross his path, and he was going to lose his chance.

Just do it! insisted Nolan.

Branfords hand cinched tighter around the polymer grips of the matte black P226, so tight his knuckles showed white. Still he never quivered, the gun an immovable mass of metal that could have been grafted to his arm.

Nolan closed his eyes and braced himself again.

This is asking an awful lot.... muttered the other man.

Nolans eyes popped open, and he choked down the outrage rising within him. There isnt anybody else! he said through bared teeth. You think Arjay could do this?

And if I miss? asked Branford, his voice the bark of a Rottweiler.

You would never miss, Nolan said without hesitation.

Always a first time, griped Branford with a sigh. All right. On three. One...

Nolan steeled himself one last time. He closed his eyes when Branford reached two.

Branford squinted slightly, adjusting the angle of his weapon by the slightest degree. Three.

The sound was swallowed by the SIGs attached silencer, but Nolan never heard a thing, even at such close range. Instead, he was on fire with a pain so intense it brought rushing back long-suppressed memories of the horrors hed been subjected to during the war.

And just when he was about to allow himself to pass out from the powerful sensation and the crippling memories it brought, another shot rang out, and the pain became twice as searing.

He couldnt hold on any longer.

This was the end. His end.

As it should be. As it was meant to be. Nolan Gray was no more.

Aaron Branford stared at the man on the ground, his blood seeping into the soil. A brief examination later, he glanced around the area in every direction, careful to ensure that no one had heard the muffled shots from his sidearm.

Satisfied, Branford quickly retrieved a shoe boxsized package from a nearby bush and placed it on the ground beside Nolans body. As he opened the box, he pulled out a phone from his pants pocket and dialed the only number saved to the phones memory.

He set to work on the boxs many contents, placing them in the proper positions while waiting impatiently for the phone to be answered.

Branford? shouted a smooth voice over a pronounced clamoring of metal.

Who else would it be, genius? Branford growled back, peeking around the area again for unwanted eyes. Nobody else has this number, Arjay.

On the other end of the line, Branford could hear the crackling of soldering in the background. You were successful? shouted Arjay over the noise.

The triggers been pulled, Branford said, the phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to put the objects from the shoe box on the ground. You better be on schedule.

My work is well in hand was Arjays smooth reply.

A gruff hm was all Branford gave as a reply. Youd best do everything you can to give him the advantage, you hear me? Ive got to get off the street. Once things have simmered down, Ill check in.

There was a pause. And then what? asked Arjay.

Branford creased his eyebrows, his worn, leathery skin nearly cracking. Then we begin, he replied, and snapped shut the phone.