Maybe someday in the distant future, Marco will care about being able to take care of a gun, but this isn't even his gun, and he's decided he just needs to know the bare minimum to get the job done.

He tails his target for a few blocks, until they get a little bit out of the way of the main foot traffic around Afterlife. He knows the path to take, and sprints ahead by a block so that he can plant himself near the alleyway he picked out earlier. The pistol's hot at his side.

It's over quickly because Marco doesn't let himself get psyched out about it: flip open his omni-tool to pull up a map, pester the tipsy Patrick for directions, turn down the alleyway and walk a few steps, get confused again and ask Patrick to look over the map, bring up the gun and press it against the side of his head while Patrick leans down, pull the trigger and splatter brain chunks all over the wall.

Marco's mostly focused on the recoil he was warned about. The gun almost jumps from his hand; he yelps at the noise and stumbles backwards a few steps, but the job is already finished. Patrick's body is on the ground, and in the eerie silence following the gunshot, Marco catches sight of the mess he just made and promptly pukes cold pizza all over the street.