This chapter is brought to you by ShadowMajin

BlueStarCity was boring, no two ways about it. Perhaps for all the simple people it held something of significance, but for Trunks there was only one thing he sought. That thing, that person was somewhere in the jungle of concrete and steel according to his source. His only desire was to find him, kill him, and get out of this place.

Of course, finding Dormant wasn't going to be easy. He had already been at two of the places the traitor had been reported to frequent and had yet to spot him. Two days worth of surveillance flushed down the drain; it was time for a new locale.

Sitting in his parked car, Trunks stared out the windshield at the residential buildings lining the street. Houses of different designs and landscaping blurred into two long strips of irrelevancy to him. Lord this place was boring. He'd only been here for a couple hours and already he felt as if he should move on from this place. There was no way Dormant was here. Why would someone want to live in such a mundane place?

Unless...unless that's what he wanted people to think. Of course! This was all camouflage to throw people off his scent! And damn it, it was working. Trunks shook his head angrily; he hadn't even seen Dormant and already his tricks were getting to him. It had to be how he had gotten the upper-hand on his father, there was no one better at what he did than Vegeta; the only way he would have lost is by trickery. It seemed Trunks was on the tail of a master of the art.

Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckle became white, the purple-haired youth refocused himself. There had to be something here that indicated Dormant was here. The setup was perfect, but in this shadow world there was no such thing as perfect. A flaw always existed and the best could always pick it out.

Slowly, Trunks studied each and every house, his eyes lingering on one before flickering over to the next. Painted wooden doors, glass windows with burglar bars attached over them, potted plants; nothing stood out there. A few of the yards had children's toys and playsets scattered about. As far as he knew, Dormant didn't have a family, or at the very least children, so those houses were crossed off his list of potentials.

And as luck would have it, the door of one of the houses opened, one that didn't have the chaotic mess of toys in the yard. A tall, young man walked to the sidewalk and up to a parked car, using his car clicker to unlock the vehicle from the distance.

Trunks shifted in his seat as he stared at the person. The spiky dark hair had gotten his attention. The height and build matched the description 17 had given him. This...this had to be him.

Watching as his target climbed into his car, started it, and then drove away, Trunks eagerly started his own car and just nearly began following him when his senses took hold. No, his father had taught him better than that. If he tailed Dormant too closely, he ran the risk of alerting the man to his presence—a rookie mistake.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and released it slowly. Calm down, there's plenty of time. You know where he lives now; losing him will not be the end of this. Opening his eyes, he noticed the car hitting the breaks as it came to a stop sign at the end of the street. Shifting the gear of his own car, he did his best to casual drive up behind his target, being sure to keep his distance.

As it turned out, Dormant didn't make too many turns on this trip. For the most part he kept on a straight course, which pleased Trunks greatly. He could keep his distance from the guy and not rouse suspicion. Just as long as he kept to his lane and didn't switch every time his target did. Only when he was sure the target was making a turn would he make an effort to follow—that had been his father's rule.

And it was because of that rule he was able to follow Dormant until he made a stop at a building, pulling into a nearby parking lot. Choosing to pass on by, Trunks looked for a sign that indicated what that building was, quickly finding it to be a government building. It wasn't anything major though, just a center for utility bill payments. Driving onto the next turnoff, which turned out to be a parking lot for a small shopping center, Trunks parked the car and shut it down.

Climbing out of the car, the purple-haired youth jogged back to the utility building, stopping behind the corner of the building before peeking around it. He quickly found the car he had been following, though Dormant didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. He really didn't like that. Still, there wasn't anything he could do about it for now.

Glancing around, he then casually walked towards Dormant's car. He kept looking from side to side, making sure the man wasn't anywhere in sight. He didn't want to be spotted, not this early in the operation. Reaching the car, he peered through the windows.

He had to admit, Dormant was very clean. Aside from some dirt on the floor mats, there wasn't really anything in the car. No trash, or clothes, nothing to say that this was a person's personal vehicle. It was too neat...

However, his initial look proved to be wrong. On the front passenger's seat was a piece of paper with writing on it. Opting to get a better look, Trunks moved around the car, looking at his surroundings as he did so in order to assure himself that he was still alone. Reaching the other side, he looked through the window and smiled to himself.

The handwriting on the paper was neat, making it very easy to read. Rice, juice, garbage bags, melons, bananas. It was a grocery list. Leaving the car, Trunks casually walked around the building and made his way towards his own vehicle. He knew exactly where his target was going now. Thanks to 17, he knew that Dormant only went to one grocery store in the area.

The grocery store was part of a long building with a rather large parking lot. Various, smaller stores shared the building, but many of the visitors were there for their grocery runs. That gave Trunks a wide area without cover.

Good thing he wasn't setting up camp there.

Across the street were a few taller buildings, each one a mandatory three floors so as to stay uniformed with each other. On the roof of one of those buildings sat Trunks, crouching behind a brick formation that formed a solid railing. A scope was in the lavender-haired youth's hand, which held it up to his eye so he could scan the parking lot. As of yet, his target had yet to arrive.

Which was alright, there were still a few things to prepare. Setting the scope down on the bricks, Trunks turned his attention to an open black case resting next to him. In it, dark padding filled the inside of the case with pieces of his weapon held secure in it. Reaching to it, the young man pulled out the body of his rifle and set the rifle butt down on his leg. Extending his arm again, he pulled a long barrel and brought it to him, setting it on top of the body and screwing it in.

When that task was done, he grabbed his scope once more and attached it to its place on the rifle, hearing an audible click as it latched on. Attention returning to the case, he then pulled out a short magazine and held it up to his face. Inside he could see long bullets placed on top of each other, one on top of the other. He knew from experience what these projectiles did to human flesh; how the spray of blood from ruptured arteries spot out of the body. Lowering it, he then shoved it into the rifle, completing his preparations.

Glancing back towards the grocery store, taking in the large, sectioned window that covered the entire store front, the youth made a cursory search of the area to make sure Dormant hadn't shown up. Seeing that he hadn't, he began analyzing the rest of the shopping center.

One of the first things he had done after arriving on this rooftop was to search for any outdoor security cameras. He wanted to make sure he didn't leave any evidence that he had been here so having a camera even looking in his direction was an obstacle. From what he had seen, the only cameras pointed away from the store were aimed right at the parking lot, cutting off any possible chance of footage being recorded of the buildings across the street.

The next thing he checked on was store security, which turned out to be an unnecessary worry. The shopping center was so low key, there weren't any uniformed men roaming the parking lot. Sure, there were a couple men in the grocery store—that large window helped him spot them standing near the exits—and most likely one for every couple of the smaller stores, but their first job was to seal off the area and try to locate the threat, not go after it. He'd have plenty of time to disassemble his rifle, pack it up, and leave the area before the police showed up.

He already had an escape route set up. On the opposite side of the building was a fire escape, which dropped down to an alleyway. Trunks had his car parked there, just waiting for him to jump in and drive off. There was nothing left to chance here.

A car drove into the parking lot then, capturing the young man's attention. Looking at the vehicle, he immediately looked away. It wasn't the car he was waiting for, so no need to spend further time on it.

Resuming his watch, he kept his eye on every car that approached the parking lot entrance. It was easier than watching every single car that drove up and down this road; all he had to do was keep an eye on the furthest lane with an occasional glance to any car trying to cross over. Trunks still kept his rifle out of sight—no need to give his position away by a straight ray of light hitting it just right.

This was all a game of patience, something the youth had to learn at a very early point in his career. On one of his first jobs the target had taken an entire day to arrive, something he hadn't accounted for and had ended up spending the better part of two nights holed up in his sniping position so that he wouldn't miss the guy. The intel had been bad and he hadn't bothered checking it out beforehand—a mistake he didn't repeat, though he still had targets that took their time in arriving. His father had been exceptional at it despite having a rather short fuse with everything else; it would seem he had different priorities than most people when it came to his waiting.

Another car was pulling up to the entrance and with a glance, Trunks knew this was his car. Crushing his eagerness, he waited for his target to park his car and walk towards the store. When the man reached the doors, Trunks hefted up his sniper rifle and rested it down on the mortar barrier in front of him. Holding the weapon with familiarity, he made himself comfortable as he looked into the scope.

It took him a second to adjust to the new vision, but that was to be expected. With one hand, he began slowly twisting a knob, hearing an audible click with every adjustment that was made. Soon he was focused on the glass front of the store.

Carefully, he shifted the gun to the right, searching for his target and finding him quickly. Unfortunately, the guy made a turn into one of the aisles, one that he didn't have a good angle on. No matter, that wasn't something to get annoyed with. The check-out counters were near the front and Dormant would have to go to them eventually. It was a waiting game now and Trunks wanted the perfect moment before he made his shot. The prick deserved nothing less.

It took nearly a minute, but eventually Dormant appeared in his sights. Tracking him, Trunks watched as the dark-haired man made his way to the fruit section, pausing to examine the bananas. Since the fruits were near the check-out stations, this was a good thing. Unfortunately, one of the crossbeams that framed the glass was in the way. The shot had to be held once more.

Dormant moved again, but this time he didn't go too far, instead heading right to a nearby stand of melons. Picking up two, the man began comparing them.

This was it; this was the shot Trunks had been waiting for. Calming his breathing until he barely felt his chest rise and fall, the lavender-haired youth meticulously zeroed in on the perfect shot. The head was an optimal choice, but there was another crossbeam threatening to ruin the hit. He had to go lower. The next place he aimed was the chest, specifically the heart. There, he had it in his sights. Dormant wasn't any the wiser, placing one of the melons in his hands down and picking up another. It was almost too good to be true.

All it would take now was a squeeze of the trigger and this bastard would be dead—just like his father. It seemed surreal that all it took to kill a man was the flexing and relaxing of a few muscles—in fact, one could say that was an insult considering that the man in question had poured sweat and blood into his work. The very thought brought a smile to Trunks' face.

He pulled the trigger.

Trunks barely felt the recoil hit him as the rifle's hammer hit the primer of the bullet, igniting the gunpowder and causing it to combust. Although small, the explosion caused the thin, armor piercing round to fly down the long barrel and out of the rifle, screaming through the air, penetrating through a thin layer of glass with barely any alteration in bullet's course. It wasn't until the nose of the bullet touched flesh and ripped through it cleanly that it began to encounter any sort of resistance. Tissue, muscle, and bone didn't stand a chance until the bullet exited out the opposite side of the target.

All of this happened within a second.

The roar of the firing filled Trunks' ears as he felt himself move back slightly from the recoil. The window the bullet hit shattered into thousands of pieces, jagged shards hanging cracked by the crossbar frame. More importantly, Dormant instantly fell down with a spray of blood flying out of his chest. The force of the shot jerked him back as he fell, disappearing below the melon stand, effectively out of sight.

In all his assignments, Trunks had to say he hadn't seen such a perfect example of a dead man falling. It was damn near textbook. He took a moment to admire this.

In the back of his head, a voice sounding much like Vegeta's barked out, "Quit gawking and get out of there!" Chastised by his own thoughts, Trunks twisted around and hide behind the mortar barrier, quickly disassembling his rifle into parts and setting them in their proper placement inside the case. With that done, he slammed it shut and clicked the clasps down.

With a quick glance around, he noticed the dulled remains of the bullet casing. Snatching it up, Trunks shoved it into his pocket and grabbed the handle of his case, shoving himself onto his feet and transversing the rooftop until he reached the fire escape. As planned, he began the long, tedious descent down the metal structure, feet pounding on the groaning iron and steel. Once he reached a landing, he spun to his right and around the staircase, heading for the next one mere steps away. The youth was rushing himself to get to the bottom, but not so much that he made a mistake. The last thing he needed was to trip and pitch himself over the edge of the fire escape. Imagine how that would look: sniper found with broken neck two blocks away from murder.

Reaching the bottom, Trunks hurried to his nearby car, sticking his free hand into his pocket. There he found his car keys, specifically grabbing ahold of his clicker. With the push of a button, the truck door popped open, allowing him to shove it up, toss in his rifle case, and slam it shut in seconds.

Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he hit the unlock button as he walked around the car to the driver's door. Opening it, he climbed in and slammed the door behind him. A second passed as Trunks shoved the starter key into the ignition and twisted it, revving the engine to life. Grabbing the gear shift, he shifted it into drive and pressed his foot on the accelerator.

He avoided speeding, even if he was in an alley. A sure way to draw attention to himself was to go peeling off and rush out into traffic. It was best to appear casual, as if nothing was wrong at all.

Because when it was all said and done, nothing was.


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