Walter steadied the precision rifle carefully as the Nazi parade rolled slowly, mechanically towards him. The smooth composite weapon was getting very sweaty under his palms, especially near the trigger. From his position above the street he could see everything through the crisp reticle in the scope.
The black open-top vehicle loomed ever nearer.
It was close enough now for Walter to see the Furor's face clearly through his gun's optics. In the briefing for this assignment, they had told him that Hitler always carried it on his person. He could not afford to trust anyone.
Walter had approximately 30 seconds to identify and eliminate the item before it would be too late. His scope's field of view became narrower as he zoomed in on Hitler's right-hand pocket. Nothing. Left...still nothing.
Wait...there it was. Der Teufel Selbst! It was pinned to his lapel in plain sight! They had instructed him that under no circumstances was he to kill the leader.
Come on! give me a shot!
There was only about 100 yards left before the parade would turn and the black car at the front would be lost from view. Suddenly, as if on a beat, the entire procession stopped. Hitler stood up and...turned! to face his adoring Master Race.
This was exactly what Walter needed.
Come on...a little more to the right...wow that is a small target. I hope they find a sniper savant soon! I'm a pilot, not really a marksman.
...steady...squeeze of the trigger.
The street reverberated with the shot, and all was chaos.