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At ground level, the Kreuzbasar was an incredibly distinct place, certainly different from above, more... cluttered. The compact nature of the streets was a breeding ground for culture, community and all the things in between. Sentinel made his way through the stalls and shops, swerving past the occasional local and manoeuvring through the dense urban sprawl towards his gear. Finally he made it to the cafe, unaware if his new elf acquaintance was even still around. Studying the area, he spied the drop location, reaching behind to retrieve a bag. Checking the contents, he was relieved to see his Walther MA-2100 rifle separated into pieces, nestled among his Black Scorpion pistol and a few fetishes.
His rifle had been with him through many runs, and had seen almost as much action as Sen had. A few years ago, it had been instrumental in saving a run from certain doom. Sen put his hand in the bag to hold and examine some of the items, remembering clearly the events. Awkwardly laying in his cramped vantage point, slowly scanning the Seattle sprawl, Sentinel eyed his target. Whatever this guy did to piss off whoever hired the team was long forgotten, yet Sen could still remember the feeling of the wind from the dilapidated floor of the unfinished building he was perched in, the metal of the rifle cold to the touch, it's icy barrel laying against his outstretched thigh as he lay in wait.
The other runners were in position by that point, ready to leave with the newly acquired paydata. The last thing in place however was this guy, this drekhead in the most difficult to reach place, with little chance of a clean double tap kill from Sen, let alone a attempt from the team on the ground. Luck wasn't on their side that day, with the security quickly discovering the team, a firefight ensued and the target hastily ran to safety. They were about to pull out, leave with whoever was still alive and hope to escape with their tails between their legs.
But then Sentinel heard it. The voice inside, the force beyond, his totem told him to wait, Crow wanted to see this done. So he waited, he waited for the events to line up perfectly, his magic endowing him with a perfect shot over hundreds of yards. The poor guy didn't even know what hit him, specifically it was a bullet, entered center mass and put him on his back to bleed out in no time at all, but he didn't know that. An inferior weapon may have let Sen down that day, but this rifle had assisted him more times than he could count.
He came back to reality with the sharp zip of the bag closing. He slung it over his back and moved back to the entrance of the cafe once more.