Let's see what we can do with: no room for error.
After a very short summer last year following going to game 7 of the finals, the Canucks are now face to face with an extremely long one. With tonight's loss to the Kings, they're now down three games to none and must win the next four games if they want to make it out of the first round.
They do like a challenge, don't they?
"They are bringing the hostages out of the building." The voice in Martin's earpiece was calm, almost bored. As though he were sharing a vaguely interesting quote from a newspaper article he'd read at breakfast. "Stand by for orders."
Martin swung his gaze to the front doors of the building across the street. A few moments of nothing passed before the first civilian appeared, the top three buttons of his business shirt unbuttoned, his hair pasted to his sweating forehead, arms over his head. Another followed, this one a woman in bare feet and a torn blouse. Behind her -
"First target spotted." The voice of Martin's Captain again, totally devoid of emotion. "Third one in line. He's yours Martin."
Martin swallowed hard as he locked in on his assigned target. While he waited for the remaining three hostage takers to appear and be subsequently given to a fellow sniper, he examined his man. The dark circles around his eyes were no surprise, not after a three day standoff. The slight paunch hanging over his belt, on the other hand, gave Martin pause.
It was a humanizing trait, a reminder of his father, something he could relate to. One he could not afford.
"All targets are up, gentlemen." The Captain spoke slowly. "We have to take them down simultaneously if we wish to avoid collateral damage. There is absolutely no room for er-"
Martin swore loudly as his earpiece erupted in loud static, forcing his hand away from the trigger to rip it off. By the time he looked through his scope again chaos had erupted in the street below.