The Perfect Shot
- Luvv A Sanwal
- Dec 6, 2025
- 3 min read
Short Story Summary -
A high-profile assassination shocks the nation when a president is killed with a sniper shot so perfect it defies logic. Agent Kabir Malik races to track down the shooter, only to find a blind man exiting the crime scene. With no evidence, no motive, and no explanation, the case spirals into a chilling thriller mystery. As Kabir digs deeper into ballistic reports and neural experiments, he uncovers a secret that challenges everything.
The crowd roared as President Arvind Rao stepped up to the podium, cameras flashing like sparks in a storm.
“Today,” he began, voice steady and booming across the rally, “we choose not just a leader-”
A single crack split the air. For a moment, no one understood.
Then the President’s body jerked, his speech scattering into silence. He collapsed before the applause finished echoing.
Screams erupted. The world broke.
Agent Kabir Malik was already moving before anyone else reacted. Years of instinct fired through him like electricity.
“Sniper shot!” he barked into his mic.
He didn’t wait for confirmation. He noticed a building and ran towards it. His gut and experience said, this only could be the building.
Within minutes, the perimeter locked down. Police sirens wailed. Helicopters spun into the sky.
Kabir stood in front of the abandoned commercial tower - twenty floors of dust and silence.
The perfect place to kill a man.
On the 20th floor, they found:
A shattered window.
A professional-grade sniper rifle.
Still warm.
Someone had been there less than three minutes ago.
A guard radio crackled:
“Sir, we have a man exiting the building. Alone.”
Kabir froze. “Bring him in.”
The suspect sat handcuffed in the interrogation room—calm, expressionless.
Name: Raghav Suri
Age: 34
Occupation: Unknown
Criminal record: Clean
And then the detail that made every officer shift uncomfortably:
Raghav Suri was blind.
Not partially. Not recently.
Medically certified blind since age seven.
Kabir leaned forward.
“Why were you in that building?”
“Because it was quiet,” Raghav replied calmly. “I like abandoned places.”
Raghav tilted his head. Kabir exhaled slowly.
“Did you hear the shot?”
“Yes.”
Hours passed.
No gunpowder on his hands.
No fingerprints on the weapon.
No evidence linking him.
Just the wrong place, wrong time.
Raghav was released. Kabir hated it. But rules were rules.
Three days later, at home, Kabir replayed the shot on surveillance footage.
The angle. The timing. The precision.
It was impossible.
A bullet. At that distance.
Even world-class snipers trained for years to make that shot.
Kabir rubbed his forehead. “What did I miss?”
Kabir was going through the forensic reports again that night - not because he expected something new, but because something about the shooting kept clawing at him.
He flipped through the evidence one more time. Then he froze.
A small line on page 47 of the ballistic analysis that he had skipped before:
“Shooter compensated perfectly for building sway and wind drag - computation accuracy suggests assisted targeting.”
Assisted targeting? Kabir frowned.
He dug deeper into the file.
Another note:
“Bullet trajectory matches patterns seen in AI-guided tools - extremely precise micro-adjustments.”
AI-guided. His heartbeat quickened.
He requested Raghav’s old medical file again, the one they barely skimmed at interrogation.
A line in his hospital report caught his eye:
“Subject participated in a neural-research trial 5 weeks ago - optic nerve stimulation implant, experimental.”
He wasn’t blind during the assassination.
He had artificial sight - fed directly into his brain by the implant.
And after he took the shot, he deactivated it. Destroyed it.
Returned to being “blind” in front of the world.
Kabir leaned back in his chair, numb.
Just as Kabir processed that, his phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number: “Sight is a burden. I only borrowed it for a moment.”
Then another: “You were the only one who looked in the right direction.”
Then one more: “Don’t worry. I miss being blind.”
Kabir stared at the screen.
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