He waited, ever aloft. Watching for that moment. Three days now he had crouched in the filth, eye never wavering. And then, with a shift in the muscles of his shoulder, the arrow was let fly. Its shaft burrowed deep into the throat. The victim tumbling to the floor. But of HypaSnipa we knew no more. He was gone like a ghost, like a phantom. But worry not, it was not his first kill, it will not be his last. There will be more marks, more payments, more murder in the dark.