Crouched down upon his haunches, the half-closed door providing an essential cover, the male checked his pistol one last time. The wind was perfect, practically nonexistent, as was the light; all he had to do was land the shot.

The target slammed his car door closed and the assassin licked his cracked, dry lips in anticipation. Payback was close, so very close...

Through the door, he could see the mark draw nearer, unsuspecting of anything even slightly amiss. Oh, God, he'd pay, though. Revenge would be extracted at whatever costs, even if Heaven and Earth had need to be moved in the process.

The target padded through the door and then turned, turned to close it and-- now!

-+-

"House... did you just shoot a suction cup at my ass?" Wilson asked, tugging off the small, plastic dart from the back of his pants.

Greg shrugged and dropped the florescent pink toy gun before limping away.