Sniping and Hidden Currents

Yorknew's night was as thick as ink. Neon lights flickered in the damp, cold air, while traffic and voices mingled in the streets, masking the murderous undercurrents surging beneath the surface. Ryan stood on the top floor of an unfinished commercial building a kilometer away, concealed in the shadows of steel rebar and concrete. The rooftop was open and exposed, the night wind howling as it carried the smell of grease from the city's barbecue stalls and the salty tang of the harbor. He wore a gray hoodie, with a manifested double-edged kukri hanging at his waist, its wrapped hilt nearly invisible in the darkness. His canvas bag held a notebook, a folding knife, and several energy gels. Crouching at the edge of the roof, he locked his gaze on the distant auction hall: neon reflected off its glass curtain walls, crowds packed the entrance, armed guards patrolled the area, and three black vans stood parked outside. Dense Nen auras filled the vehicles, suggesting an ambush by the Ten Dons. He muttered, "The Troupe's trap... the mafia's killing ground... and the show hasn't even started."

Ryan closed his eyes and readied the sniper cannon. His body had already entered the state of "Zetsu" automatically, his aura restrained to the extreme, as though he had merged with the night. He activated Eye, and streams of data appeared in his vision: the guards at the entrance were changing shifts more frequently, and the mafia had already surrounded the venue. He whispered, "The Ten Dons have made their move."

Eye appeared silently over his shoulder. Distance, wind direction, and firing angle data passed through the Nen beast and back to Eye: wind speed, 2.2 meters per second; humidity, 59%; an unobstructed range of one kilometer. Ryan adjusted the sniper cannon and murmured, "The