The Assassin
What it says in the title. Put 10 time better. Hope you enjoy.
Nobody would see him here, he knew it. Even though each noise, every crunch, rustle, beep startled him. As rain drops steadily dripped down onto and off his nose he squinted through the cold, black rain. It was almost dark. Perfect. He knew he would be successful. He knew he would complete his purpose. A distant squeal of brakes followed by angry shouts could be heard. The man's eyes narrowed though he didn't move his head in risk of the slightest movement could disturb his presence. Shivering, he raised his hand. It was covered with scars and still bleeding wounds. He smiled. He knew he was dangerous. A car drove past on the road below. His coal black, snakelike eyes glared at the blue Corsa with a slight dent on the bonnet and a scratch on the back window. Not the one he was looking for. He raised his rifle. Used so often it was like an extension to his arm, carefully zoomed in and precise enough to kill.
The house. He took in every detail, the slight peel to the enamel on the window, the red and green ivy delicately strangling the house. The door. One hinge broken off by a previous attempt. He would show them. His ears pricked up as a faint buzz went past his left ear. Snapping his hand up, he mercilessly killed the source of the noise. Practice make perfect, he laughed silently in his head. The rain came down like a cold shower. His head pounded. After all, this was no time to play games...
He glanced at his watch, 5:45. His eyes flashed back to the road as he heard the crunch of gravel on the road. It was time. The woman in the car didn't know him. She never would. Whilst he knew her whole life. Birthdays, diary dates, friends, interests, family. All his. He knew she had been to the speech at the dinner just a few minutes ago. So important, yet so breakable and easy to kill. A single car turned into sight, not followed by the usual guards. He grinned. They were making this too easy. He knew as soon as he saw the car that it was The One. Too conspicuous, Rolls-Royce, silver, blacked out windows, spotlessly clean despite the rain, he noted these reasons as it purred down the road. Elegant, even beautiful, no normal person could afford it.
The drive's door opened. A black, expensive umbrella opened before the woman. 'An obstacle', he thought,' almost like a blindfold, though flimsy nylon won't help her.' He grinned. He carefully watched the woman fluently step up from her car and shut the door. Through the rain the man aimed his weapon. He could see the woman sighing. She began what looked like an ancient tribal dance around the gray, round puddles. 'Don't want to wreak your shoes' the man though sarcastically. The woman looked around, as if waiting for something. Routine. The man knew she always did this. He watched the woman, so oblivious, stepping onto the marble porch. 'Any last words?' The man thought. The woman crouched down to stroke her cat, a white and orange tabby, he noted. He took a breath. Now. The woman's delicate fingers had just stroked the cat when her life was ripped away after a single shot. The man grinned at the body covered in blood on the road below. Mission Completed.
The house. He took in every detail, the slight peel to the enamel on the window, the red and green ivy delicately strangling the house. The door. One hinge broken off by a previous attempt. He would show them. His ears pricked up as a faint buzz went past his left ear. Snapping his hand up, he mercilessly killed the source of the noise. Practice make perfect, he laughed silently in his head. The rain came down like a cold shower. His head pounded. After all, this was no time to play games...
He glanced at his watch, 5:45. His eyes flashed back to the road as he heard the crunch of gravel on the road. It was time. The woman in the car didn't know him. She never would. Whilst he knew her whole life. Birthdays, diary dates, friends, interests, family. All his. He knew she had been to the speech at the dinner just a few minutes ago. So important, yet so breakable and easy to kill. A single car turned into sight, not followed by the usual guards. He grinned. They were making this too easy. He knew as soon as he saw the car that it was The One. Too conspicuous, Rolls-Royce, silver, blacked out windows, spotlessly clean despite the rain, he noted these reasons as it purred down the road. Elegant, even beautiful, no normal person could afford it.
The drive's door opened. A black, expensive umbrella opened before the woman. 'An obstacle', he thought,' almost like a blindfold, though flimsy nylon won't help her.' He grinned. He carefully watched the woman fluently step up from her car and shut the door. Through the rain the man aimed his weapon. He could see the woman sighing. She began what looked like an ancient tribal dance around the gray, round puddles. 'Don't want to wreak your shoes' the man though sarcastically. The woman looked around, as if waiting for something. Routine. The man knew she always did this. He watched the woman, so oblivious, stepping onto the marble porch. 'Any last words?' The man thought. The woman crouched down to stroke her cat, a white and orange tabby, he noted. He took a breath. Now. The woman's delicate fingers had just stroked the cat when her life was ripped away after a single shot. The man grinned at the body covered in blood on the road below. Mission Completed.
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