The pistol felt heavy in his hand, not in an alien way as he was familiar with weapons. No the gun felt reassuringly heavy. Old fashioned projectile weapons like this Browning were antiques, considered so outmoded and rare that security scanners no longer paid them any mind; these days it was the energy signature of a plasma or laser weapon that was the target of the state security teams and their technological help mates. It had taken considerable time and money to find and repair it, and even longer to gather together the requisite equipment to manufacture reliable ammunition, but it had all been worth it.

He was no longer in any doubt that his target deserved death. His only concern had been the potential to inadvertently marytr a man that was so utterly unworthy of such respect or dignity. Luckily the tide was turning there as well, and the documents that he had sent to various news directors that would arrive after he was dead were likely to leave his actions mitigated at worst and vindicated at best.

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