THE ÜBERMENSCH He hesitated. At the core of his humanity he knew what he was doing was wrong, but everyone had told him, whether they knew it or not, that he was meant for this; it was his fate... and hers too. He was proud to be a man, powerful and strong, it seemed everything in the world was his, and so it was. His fleeting moments of doubt were inconsequential, he had her in his sights, trapped by his will. She was hopeless, he saw it in her eyes as he gazed into them, but she only gazed into the abyss-- her eminent fate of nothingness. Today that was not his fate; today he was a man. He looked at her beautiful, plump lips and pouting mouth, slightly open, signifying an emotion he could only interpret as complete and utter weakness. He relished at the sight. Her complexion was immaculate and obstructed only by trace strands of her long brown hair that flowed every which way. She didn’t scream, she knew by now it was useless. He breathed deeply and slowly, it was so silent he could hear her heart beating, until he realized it was his own echoing throughout his veins and into his ears. The time had come for him to do the deed that he had been aching to do for what felt like hours but was only moments as he lay above her. Silently surging with excitement, he held his breath and reached his finger down and slowly applied pressure. A sound echoed to her and from every corner of his mind, but instead of the expected yelp or bang-- and empty, hollow, click. He likened the sound to himself, as he watched her mouth curve into a smirk and a glint shimmer in her eyes. She fixed her hair behind her ears and continue on as he lay on a grate hundreds of feet above, pounded by the hot sun and smothered by dirt and sand, holding his long throbbing masculinity in his calloused hands, completely and utterly alone. He felt the most intense shame, not because the woman he was commissioned to kill as head sniper escaped him, but because of something else he couldn’t quite but his finger on...