American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 120 Start taking action

Action Day.

The amphitheater in Central Park was busier than usual.

Besides the upcoming Independence Day concert attracting tens of thousands of spectators, the most important reason is that the target will deliver a speech there to campaign for his election.

The entire park was boiling like a pot of water.

The surging crowds moved slowly under the guidance of security personnel. On the makeshift media platform, camera flashes went off incessantly. Long lines of cars were stranded on the road, their horns blaring incessantly. The sidewalks were packed with news broadcast vans, their satellite dishes pointing skyward. The whistles of police officers, the laughter of the audience, and the sounds of sound equipment being adjusted mingled together, fermenting into a strange restlessness in the July heat.

Beta's taxi slowly came to a stop in front of the Liberty Building, a distance of 5000 meters from Central Park.

The driver quickly got out of the car and went around to the back seat to help the passenger who had "difficulty moving around".

“Watch out for the steps, sir.” The driver held Beta’s arm as he watched him struggle to get out of the car.

Beta appeared vulnerable, as if he had been injured, with his two elbows supporting most of his weight and his right leg kept at an unnatural angle of bending.

He trembled slightly with every step he took, as if he might fall at any moment. The sunlight shone on his tightly furrowed brow, making the "pain" seem even more real.

Passersby made way for him, and one woman even held onto the glass door.

"Th-thank you," Beta's voice was just the right amount of weak.

When Beta looked up, he realized that it was Monica holding onto the glass door.

She was clearly dressed up today; her pencil skirt accentuated her beautiful curves, and her delicate collarbones were visible beneath a light beige coat. Her light makeup perfectly complemented her bright eyes, making her even more radiant than Beta remembered.

Beta remembered that today was the day they had agreed to have dinner together at the restaurant where she worked.

They were now very close.

Monica's warm hand was supporting his arm, the distance between them less than fifty centimeters, and the delicate scent of jasmine perfume emanating from her was clearly audible.

However, Beta's old-age makeup and realistic disabled appearance perfectly deceived her.

Monica's gaze swept over the "old man's" wrinkled face, but she didn't recognize him at all; he was the person she had been most looking forward to meeting today.

Beta could feel the warmth of her slender fingers against her elbow as she helped Beta onto the security checkpoint platform.

As Monica released his grip and stepped back, Beta leaned forward, his hunched figure swaying. He deliberately made his elbow slip, squeezing out the short, labored breaths typical of an elderly person.

The elderly man's fall was portrayed so realistically, with his elbows instinctively reaching forward, his knees bending unnaturally, and even the gasp that escaped his throat carrying the hoarseness characteristic of the elderly.

"Watch out!" The security personnel inside the security gate rushed forward.

Monica's outstretched hand was still hanging in mid-air when the security personnel firmly supported the "elderly person" who was about to fall to the ground.

This "old gentleman" exuded the air of high society. He wore a meticulously tailored bespoke suit, and a platinum watch peeked out from his cuffs. Even his elbows, upon closer inspection, were clearly custom-made, with non-slip crocodile leather inlaid on the handles.

The security personnel quickly helped the swaying Beta up and apologized repeatedly: "I'm so sorry, sir, it was our oversight."

He carefully inspected the canes, the metal detector beeping as it passed over them. After confirming they were safe, he respectfully handed them back: "Your canes. Again, we apologize for our mistake." Beta took the canes shakily, deliberately letting his fingers tremble as if they were the typical tremor of an elderly person: "You clearly have difficulty walking, yet you insisted on coming to this art exhibition. You've really caused us trouble."

The performance was flawless. The old man's slightly hunched back, the pauses in his speech with a hint of panting, and even the perfectly timed trembling of his hand when he took the cane, all perfectly portrayed the image of a pampered old gentleman who was unfortunately injured.

The security personnel respectfully helped Beta into the gold-framed elevator for people with disabilities and asked considerately, "Would you like me to accompany you upstairs, sir?"

Beta deliberately let his wrinkled hands tremble and hesitate in front of the floor buttons, his fingertips "accidentally" touching several floor numbers before finally pressing the button for the 88th floor with trembling hands.

“No need.” He slightly raised his chin, revealing the reserve and stubbornness unique to high society: “Art is a solitary enjoyment.”

The aged voice left no room for doubt: "Especially when it touches the soul, that feeling is something that cannot be shared with others."

As the elevator doors closed, Beta peeked through the narrowing gap and saw an understanding smile on the security guard's face—the quirks of the wealthy were commonplace for him, working as a security guard here.

As the elevator began to ascend, the feigned turbidity in Beta's eyes faded. He stared at the elevator panel; the 87th floor button, which he had "accidentally" pressed right under the security personnel's noses, was now emitting a faint blue glow.

In the reflection of the metal wall, the wrinkles on that aged face solidified into cold lines.

455068778087.

After mechanically stopping at each floor that was "accidentally touched," the elevator finally slowly opened on the 87th floor.

"Ding! We have reached the 87th floor."

An electronic female voice echoed in the empty corridor.

Beta pressed the button for floor 1 and held it down to cancel the original instruction for floor 88. He stepped out of the elevator and quickly surveyed the corridor. There were no cameras, no workers, only an unfinished glass curtain wall.

The elevator doors behind me slowly closed like a stage curtain and began to descend.

Beta took out his alligator skin wallet. Inside were three .244 bullets, disguised as insulin injections. Next to it was an electronic lock pick the size of a credit card.

This was precisely his true purpose in orchestrating that "accident" at the security checkpoint.

While security personnel were busy helping the "fallen elderly man," his elbow and wallet were spared from X-ray inspection, granting his belongings the privilege of exemption from inspection.

Beta pried open the padlock on the construction site fence gate; the sound of metal clanging was swallowed up by the howling wind.

He walked slowly through the stalled construction site, carefully avoiding the scattered steel bars and building materials with each step. His elbow rest began to move with each step. Metal parts meshed and reassembled, the handle tore open and inserted into the trigger, and the silencer screwed onto the elbow rest's head.

As the air currents high above New York City swept through the unenclosed curtain wall frame, they ruffled Beta's clothes. The ordinary walking aid had been transformed into a custom .244 caliber sniper rifle.

Beta knelt before the concrete beam, the safety net hanging outside fluttering in the strong wind. His fingers traced the .244 caliber rifle, carefully positioning the barrel in the groove of the beam.

Through the high-powered scope, the figure of the "red-nosed man with corn silk" on the Central Park podium was perfectly positioned in the center of the crosshairs.

The wind swept across Beta's straight back, completely dispelling the last vestige of the hunched old man's pretense. Now, kneeling there, only a killing machine remained.

In the distance, Central Park was bustling with activity, and Beta's index finger touched the cold trigger.

(End of this chapter)