Remember Me, Baby.
Target

Moscow, October 2131.

Beautiful buildings towering, neat rows along the bend of the Moskva river. Radisson Collection Hotel is one of the most magnificent buildings among the others. In Stalinist imperial style, the hotel looks like a medieval castle, grand and dominant.

As one part of the Seven Sisters-seven skyscrapers in Moscow that bear a resemblance to architecture-hotel Radisson is the safest place because it has a security system with the maximum level, at the same time most dangerous because anyone can get in there.

All people from different parts of the world pass each other in alleys that are never quiet. Various races and ethnicities, different skin colors and languages, all busy with their respective affairs. Everyone has different goals and motivations in that place. Some are just on vacation, looking for temporary pleasure from the hustle and bustle of the world that makes an impact, conduct illicit transactions, or carry out secret missions.

Andrew pulled the tip of his hat to cover his face while walking under CCTV cameras. Indeed, he currently wears silver fake hair in a burgundy red suit that looks very colossal and outdated, but keeping watch and preventing his face from being recognized by the detection machine is better than he has to have trouble finding a hiding place when things don't go according to his plan. A violin bag on his back was not particularly conspicuous, nor was the brown suitcase he carried in his left hand.

The man limped towards the elevator, then stood quietly until the iron box carried him to the 31st floor. The wrinkles on his face grew even more when he tried to smile at the little girl who was staring at him since entering the elevator.

“Hopefully your day is fun,” she said waving as the little girl first went out with her parents.

“Bye,” reply the little girl with a wide grin.

One by one the passengers got off, leaving only Andrew and two men in glasses carrying black suitcases in iron boxes. When finally the number 31 blinked before the elevator doors opened, Andrew nodded at a glance before stepping outside. He fixed his glasses, then turned to the right and walked to the last room, near the door with the words "Exit” green.

Andrew scanned the barcode on his phone on the machine at the doorstep until the screen turned green. The door moves automatically and opens wide. He pulled his suitcase inside, then closed the door and pressed the key button. Not too hastily, he opened the suitcase and put his hand in, looking for a small black box that was at the front.

Beeping.

The sound of the signal scrambling machine and the scanner of the recording device began to work. Andrew raised his right hand, as if to scratch his temple. However, very quickly his thumb pressed a small circle on the inside of the glasses handle. His glasses screen instantly turned into a mini monitor, showing the graphics and blue print of his hotel room quickly.

Clear.

The writing reflected off his glasses screen, forming a hologram floating in the middle of the room. Andrew breathed a sigh of relief, put on black gloves and began to perform the action.

Andrew put his violin bag on the bed, then unpacked it. He pulled the zipper up to the base, then poked the inside. Very quickly and deftly, the young man picked up the pieces of iron stuck to the frame of the bag and assembled them together with some of the components attached to the stringed instrument.

In an instant, a long-barreled rifle with silencers stood firmly on the floor. The weapon is a derivative of the latest SVLK-14S with a hypersonic bullet that has been modified in such a way that it can penetrate steel with a thickness of 15 centimeters. Unknowingly Andrew smirked faintly when he saw his family crest on the handle of the weapon.

Yes, the business in the field of weaponry that is what his father really wants to inherit to him. Unfortunately, although he desperately refused to manage the “family” business, his current job field keeps him “touch” with the production of Phoenix.Co, one of his father's subsidiaries. And, strangely, he also felt proud because the rifle could penetrate the arms market in Russia.

The rustling sound of the communication device distracts Andrew.

“I'm already in position,” he said after pressing a small circle on the left side of his watch.

“Copy that.”

Andrew cut off the communication channel. He attached foam dampers on doors and walls. After being certain that nothing was missed, the man rushed his weapon towards the window and slightly flicked the curtains to pull out the muzzle of the weapon. He aimed northward, at a building nearly 10 kilometers across the Moskva river. His eyes squinted behind the aiming tool. It rotates the diaphragm, adjusting the incoming light so that it can see its target clearly.

Over there. The flash of light reflecting off the building caught Andrew's attention. He could clearly see Clark in the uniform standing by the window. The colleague opened a silver tray on the pushtable and purposely held it under the sunlight to send a signal. Andrew meticulously measured wind speed and direction, then waited for Clark to step out of his firing range.

Andrew's index finger was on standby as he watched Clark close the tray and push the buffet table out of the room. Mr. Rudolf Rumanox's. One of the big mafia who became the target of M16 and the CIA was seen being scattered with his business partners. The thick-bodied man with a sideburn that began to turn white looked very satisfied. He raises his glass high to toast the man in front of him who is one of the most feared members of a mafia gang in Japan.

Gerigi Andrew grumbled for holding back anger. I don't know how many thousands of lives have died because of the men who are looking for profits. They don't care how many people suffer for their actions because all they know is to make as much profit as possible by smuggling illegal weapons to trade in the Middle East, Europe, and even America.

“Laugh while you can, Tua Bangka,” murmured Andrew slowly.

He took a deep breath. His eyes did not blink in the slightest as his finger pulled the trigger steadily.

Blup.

Dsien!

Dsien!

Bullets shot out quickly, piercing through the cranium and stuck to the wall. Despite only watching through the crosshairs, Andrew could clearly see white lumps scattered from the heads of the two mafia heads. His men were disoriented, looking confused and brandishing their hands into the air.

"Target down's. Copy. Target Down."

***

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