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Prison
Mahone quickly adjusts the scope rings for the second time and pulls the trigger.
"Hey, wait, wait," Lynn calls out at the walkie-talkie from the down road. "Stop shooting."
"Why? I haven't emptied the chamber yet."
"Stop it, Mahone."
He sighs and picks up the rifle by its carrying handle. He glances at the .50 BMG cartridges miserably, regretting that he can't use them anymore right now, his brother forbade him. He pushes the gun into a plastic container and eyes the rooftop for the last time, if someone was here, fortunately it is empty. He grips the bag tightly and steps to the emergency elevator for exit, covering his eyes by the cap, because police will be here in any moment.
"How many bullets did you use?" Lynn asks, when they both already got in the car.
"Seven. Five missed. Before you say somethin' I would like you to remind you that I'm not a professional sniper."
"Where are the another two?" he steers the wheel
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