[ WP ] The world 's best hitman prepares to kill the world 's luckiest man .

They told me he could be a problem, but I do n't know what they were talking about. He looks like a very average man, out to lunch in his blue suit with his yellow tie. I'd kill him just for that awful color combination. But no, somebody wants this man dead, and is paying me $ 200,000 for it, so I'm not complaining. He's a lawyer, so that explains the motive for wanting him in the ground. 
 
 He sits at a small table in a courtyard, eating a hot dog from a stand. He always takes his lunch break from 1:00-1:55. People with strict schedules always make my job a lot easier. I sit on my perch in the parking garage. I aim my rifle towards him, a VSS Vintorez silenced Soviet Rifle. I look through the sites, carefully positioning the shot. Aim, and... 
 
 *click* 
 
 Blasted gun jammed. I pull pack the charging handle and eject the dead round, chambering another. I take my aim again. Aim, and... 
 
 *click* 
 
 *click click click* 
 
 I violently pull the charging handle back, chambering another round. Aim, and... 
 
 *click* 
 
 I throw the gun onto the ground, frustrated. God damned firing pin must have broken. I collapse the gun and stuff it into its bag, then throw it into the trunk of my car. I grab my Walther P99 and my knife. Time for plan B. 
 
 I walk down the garage and into the courtyard, approaching the target where he sits, still happily eating his hot dog. I pull the pistol out of my pocket and fire six rounds at him. The entire area erupts into panic. The first shot goes right past him. The second pings off the table. The third and fourth seem to disappear into thing air. The fifth explodes his drink, causing him to turn towards me, where the final bullet passes harmless through his hair. He just looks at me, confused. 
 
 And then he smiles. I raise my gun to fire the rest of my clip, but suddenly something wet covers my hands. I stop and stare at the white liquid covering my entire gun, seeping into all of its parts. I look up and see a very satisfied pigeon land on top of one of the umbrellas covering the tables. Angrily I turn to fire at it, but its *shit* has jammed my gun. I toss it aside. 
 
 The target is standing up now. I draw my knife and rush him, leaning in for a slash to his throat. He leans back right in time and my knife whizzes right past him. He stands up straight again and I reel back, thrusting my knife into his chest. It connects, and I smile triumphantly, pulling the knife out. I look down at it. There's no blood. The target smiles at me again, his piercing blue eyes covered in smile lines. He pulls from his breast pocket a metal business card hold, dented by my knife. He pulls out a card and hands it out to me. 
 
 `` I think you'll need a lawyer,'' he says.
