Title: One Shot
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ryo, Dee, OC.
Rating: PG
Setting: After the manga.
Summary: Ryo waits for the order to fire.
Word Count: 400
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Challenge 441: Amnesty 73, using Challenge 152: Shot.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.




These moments are always tense, in some ways the most stressful part of Ryo’s job, crouching, still as a statue, focused with single-minded intensity on the target, blocking out the rest of the world as if it doesn’t exist.

He barely blinks, can’t afford to; his only movement is the slow shifting of his aim, the barrel of his rifle tracking the target’s movements, waiting for his partner to tell him over his earpiece that he has a go.

Time has slowed to a crawl, or maybe just ceased to be of any importance. He’ll remain in place on the chilly rooftop as long as it takes to either talk this guy into releasing his hostages, or reach a point where Ryo is called upon to end the stalemate.

As much as he likes showing off his skills as a sharpshooter, he doesn’t enjoy taking a human life, but in these situations, merely wounding the target is seldom an option. He’s been trained to take the kill shot without hesitation, because it’s the lives of the hostages that matter. If the criminal refuses to give himself up, then he has no right to expect mercy. Right now, everything is balanced on a knife-edge as the police negotiator attempts to secure the release of the hostages. Even letting one or two of them go would be progress.

One man, armed with an assault rifle, locked in an office with fourteen clerical staff, threatening to kill them all if the insurance company doesn’t honor his claim. He let his payments lapse, hasn’t had insurance cover for months; the company doesn’t owe him anything, but he won’t accept that. He’s also high on something. It’s not looking good.

He's pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Through his scope, Ryo can see the gunman’s lips moving as he continues to rant at the cowering hostages. Ryo keeps his own breathing slow and even, watching his target dispassionately; he already knows how this will end, but it’s not up to him to decide when. All he can do is wait, and watch, rifle steady, the warm wood of the stock nestled against his right cheek, his forefinger resting lightly against the trigger. Nothing exists for Ryo except his rifle and the target. Even the hostages are irrelevant, someone else’s problem.

Dee’s voice sounds in his ear. “Now.”

Ryo fires.

His job is done.


The End