Wife Contract Fake Sniper Limping

9. Dennis Setiawan

Dennis checked his equipment once more before leaving.

- assembly material (check)

binoculars (check)

tripod (check)

- gloves (check)

camera (check)

When complete, Dennis closed the canvas bag and walked with his black stick, out of the room. The sound of not tok that had rivaled Yanti's clompen, now back to be his one.

"Where are you going, sir? No break for the day?" ask Yanti who is smoothing rice for her child. The baby sat on the floor with his hands held on to Yanti's shirt, the other thumb coming into her mouth

Dennis held back from shuddering in horror at what the little hand was holding. Not to mention the saliva that continues to seep from the lips nyempluk. Dennis was not surprised that there were a few drops stuck to his shoes.

"I'll eat out, come back tonight." Dennis was about to move on when he turned again towards Yanti. "Tomorrow Sunday we go to Mommy's house. Have you been taught manners yet?"

Yanti's hand movements stopped, obviously she didn't know what Dennis meant. The man also made a mental note to teach Yanti to regulate facial expressions.

"Tomorrow let me tell Miss Niken myself" Dennis said before passing.

He walked all the way to the end of the alley where rickshaws were lined up waiting for passengers. The driver's hanging out at the roadside warkop. One man walked up to their subscription.

"Where, Sir?" ask the man in the faded orange t-shirt.

"Ke Stop" replied Dennis as he sat on the passenger bench.

Mr. Becak directly installs a protective roof so as not to overheat and for a while already pedaling. His hand carried the rickshaw cruising between the car and the motorcycle carefully. Occasionally his hand is stretched out to ask the other road user for a way.

After arriving, Dennis gave a hundred rupiah note that was received with pleasure.

At the stop, Dennis waited with a dozen other passengers. They jostled and scrambled up as the bus stopped. Fortunately there was a conductor who shouted to organize the masses in order.

"Awas careful! Who go down the street! Who's down the street!" his yell.

Dennis rides most recently, but can be placed somewhat inward after people see a different way of walking.

The conductor began to walk in between the passengers who had been lined up, pulling the ticket fare. Dennis gave the fifteen rupiahs received without saying much.

Dennis went down with the others in the Mbungkul Park area. From there, he entered the ponten and changed clothes wearing a t-shirt and cloth pants that faded color.

The white man walked out and walked slowly. Dennis stops every twenty steps and makes sure no one notices or considers his whereabouts as an anomaly among the park's other visitors. Only one in dozens of people passing by or just hanging out to take off their guard.

Slowly but surely, Dennis got to the road with a big house lined up on the left and right.

The day had already begun the afternoon when Dennis casually walked into a house that had been prepared for his duties this time. It was not difficult for him to find the stairs to the second floor.

He stopped above the stairs and confirmed his position for a moment before continuing. Dennis enters the room where his owner, a grown-up girl, is staying.

But it's not important, the most important thing is that Dennis did a good job.

Dennis was looking for a location so that he was in the most profitable position, then he put on a holding leg and gloves. His hands moved nimble after years of experience, stringing the separated parts together into one piece. A long-range rifle with a silencer.

The man then sat quietly waiting for the victim. His watchful eyes did not miss even a single detail. At the moment the target, a bald man and a distended stomach, just got home from work. There was a couple and a few servants who welcomed him.

From behind the rifle binoculars, Dennis saw the two talking, probably the incident they had experienced all day. Occasionally, the couple joined hands and hugged.

After nearly an hour, the target finally walked alone towards his study. Based on the information that Dennis got, usually a new target came out before midnight.

One thought Dennis had at the time, at least no one really felt lost that the bald man was gone.

He aimed the tip of the rifle until the target was at the right point. Dennis' finger then finished the job with a 'Dos' sound, similar to when a light bulb broke.

He watched as the target, who was sitting on his back against the open window, fell face down on the table with a brief tremor. The red color soaked the documents and paper he was reading.

Dennis wasn't waiting to make sure the bald guy was gone. He scrambled to dismantle the rifle and put it again in a black plastic bag. His steps were dragged as he accelerated down the stairs and out of the empty house.

Outside, Dennis walked in the opposite direction as he came before turning into a more crowded street. Dennis stopped the passing freight and boarded, joining the other passengers. He got off and boarded another vehicle, changed clothes at the ponten of one of the terminals.

His eyes were looking for a figure who would be trailing, not just a cynical look at his bloodline. The ears she uses to sort out sounds, assessing potential harm among skewed comments about her ethnicity.

Until the black stick was back in front of the house just before sunset. The sound of the simple prayer call from the musholla, and the lamp of the house has been turned on.

When Dennis opened the door, his nose smelled the scent of a caramel. He walked towards the kitchen where Yanti was struggling with her son and something in the frying pan.

"What is this, Yan?" ask Dennis.

Yanti looked up from her position crouching on the floor. The toddler was still cool with his blackish food.

"Fry the eggs, sir. Use soy sauce for Kito."

Yanti's son took a handful of food and pointed it at Dennis. The man raised next to the eyebrows.

"Aac! Yak!" kito half exclaimed.

"Ora, Le," said Yanti was amused by her son's behavior. "Sir Dennis doesn't eat..."

Yanti's sentence did not continue, the woman looked at Dennis with a question mark. "You want fried eggs with soy sauce, too, sir?"

Dennis was reluctant to eat experimental food for babies. But his curiosity was too great to resist. After all, Yanti's son can eat, why can't he?

"Yes, make one for me" Dennis took off his shoes and changed his sandals at home.

He then stepped carefully into the bathroom to clean himself up there. Just wash your face, hands and feet. Ever since Yanti lived with him, Dennis felt it was safer to use the bathroom in the room for more personal use.

Out of the bathroom, a legit and charred scent greeted him sharply.

"I put it on the table, sir," reported Yanti who fed Kito with blackish lumps mixed with rice.

Dennis approached the dinner table where a black scrambled egg stared back. Curiosity came back to him. When he compares with Yanti's child eating voraciously and with a straw, Dennis decides to try straight away. Not paying attention to the worries that arise.

He sat down while adjusting his breath, as well as saying a prayer for the Gods and ancestors to protect him. Dennis scooped up and directly stuffed the white rice and soy sauce eggs into his mouth.

Not even two seconds later, he opened his mouth and gasped.

"Kok ndak blown first the rice, sir?" Yanti was surprised by the behavior of her employer who now looks like Kito. He shut his mouth so he wouldn't be seen laughing.

Dennis glanced at Yanti who dared to laugh at him. But he continued eating. He wanted to know if eating a lot and a little would have a meaningful effect.

On the floor, Kito picked up and ate his own dinner, no matter the mess and the taint.

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