Creative writing - The Bloody Assassin.
The home was fully alarmed and had sentries deliberately posted inside and out, but it made no difference to him. He slipped from shadow to shadow, silently advancing toward his prey with the slyness of a cougar. Small arsenals of weapons were at his disposal and hung from the compartment around his waist slightly open and ready. Soft shoes and an even softer step made his approach silently and deadly. His dark clothing, years of training and experience gave him a distinct edge over his targets. They usually didn't even know they were being hunted until it was too late. By then they were on their way to eternity. He could see a crack of light coming from the side of his victim's bedroom door. He was still awake. No problem, he thought, it would be over before it began. He slid along the wall to the edge of the door and listened to the sounds coming from the other side. His mark was humming a catchy little tune that reminded him of a television commercial he had recently seen. He smiled thinking the idiot would die with that stupid jingle going through his head. He gently opened the door further and looked in through the open space. He could see the man's back to him covered in a silken red robe combing a scrubby patch of hair in a mirror on a dressing unit next to the bed. He would wait until he was in bed and the lights were out.He didn't have to wait long. The light from the bedroom went out and he heard the rustling of sheets and the creak of bed boards as his target shifted into a comfortable position. He stood in the shadows for a moment longer and then made his move. With practiced care he opened the door just far enough for his slight but strong body to slide through. He could see the shadow of his target lying on the bed with his back to him. He reached into his pack and took out a steel cable with a small wooden handle on each end. He inserted the cable between his fingers and slinked along the carpeted floor toward the bed. He had to make it a quick and silent kill if he wanted to escape hidden.The throttle found its place around the victim’s throat and tightened with little effort. He barely struggled before his breath and life were gone from his body. He checked the mark's pulse to be certain he was dead and once satisfied there was none he slithered out the window, down the wall and out of the complex to his waiting Porsche down the street. He casually drove away with a smile. Another night's work complete, he could now make his way home and have a drink.He opened the door to his apartment, a Baretta 9mm at his side. He listened with ears that had been trained to detect a person breathing through a wall in another room but nothing. He slipped the Baretta back into its holster beneath his arm and flipped the light switch on. He bolted the door behind him and threw his keys
into a brass seashell that sat on a wooden stand next to the door. The phone rang immediately and he answered it tiredly."Yes," Lopez said in a dry monotone."Is the assignment complete?" the high masked voice on the other end asked."Yes.""Good," the voice said. A long silence followed and then the voice said, "I have another assignment if you're interested. It's a special."Lopez thought about it and knew that a special paid more, but was also more dangerous than most hits. "How much?" he asked flatly."Fifty, plus a new Jaguar if you pull it off," the voice said stoically.A new ...
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into a brass seashell that sat on a wooden stand next to the door. The phone rang immediately and he answered it tiredly."Yes," Lopez said in a dry monotone."Is the assignment complete?" the high masked voice on the other end asked."Yes.""Good," the voice said. A long silence followed and then the voice said, "I have another assignment if you're interested. It's a special."Lopez thought about it and knew that a special paid more, but was also more dangerous than most hits. "How much?" he asked flatly."Fifty, plus a new Jaguar if you pull it off," the voice said stoically.A new jaguar? This must be a tough one, he thought to himself. He loved a challenge though and couldn't turn it down. “The special one! Are you interested?" The voice crackled."Yes. Send me the file tomorrow," Lopez said and severed the connection.The following morning a beige envelope was waiting for him on the floor inside the door to his apartment. He picked it up and shuffled to the kitchen to make some coffee. As the coffee brewed he opened the envelope and browsed through the contents. There were the usual, photographs of the marks home, cars, guards, and servants. But this one did not contain a picture of the intended victim, just a description of what he was thought to look like. He didn't like that. If they couldn't get close enough for a photo, how was he supposed to get close enough to kill him?A bad feeling swept through his guts as he thought about the assignment, but he shrugged it off as nonsense. After all he was a professional. He didn't believe in premonition or omens or anything other than what he could see and kill. Those were the only real things in life. He poured a cup of coffee and reviewed the file further. The target was a wealthy old man that seemed to have his hooks into everything; shipping, international banking, oil, gold, diamond mines, antiques . . . No wonder someone was willing to pay such a high price to off this guy, he mused. Probably more than just one person wanted this guy dead. No children or wives or family of any kind still living, they were all dead or never existed in the first place. He could see the hit was purely a professional business decision and he respected that. He hated those greedy inheritance killings where some spoiled rich brat couldn't wait for the old man to die off naturally in order to inherit the fortune it had taken decades to gather together so they could blow it on cocaine, women and cars. The information packet was thorough. It even had a map of the mansion he called home and times when he could be found there. He would double check all of this of course. It was the professional thing to do. And he was the best. Lopez stalked the special for the following two weeks and found no deviance in his daily schedule. Not much daytime activity, mostly the help everyday jobs. The old man seemed to do all of his business at night and at his home. He never left the safety of that modern castle. There were guards carrying poorly concealed Uzi submachine guns making rounds every fifteen minutes, twenty four hours a day. Even some of the standard help were carrying handguns beneath their uniforms. Solid iron gates and a perimeter fence that left no doubt uninvited visitors were not welcome. Lopez smiled to himself. Getting in would be easy. It was getting out that would be difficult, but he already had a plan. Two days later near the end of night, Lopez crawled down a small hill on the far side of the property near the garage. He waited for the guard to pass his position and climbed the fence with the ease of a cat. Quickly he moved to the garage and was through the door in a flash. From the garage he could access any part of the house virtually undetected. He silently slinked to the far end of the garage and easily found the door that lead to the rear staircase and kitchen. He opened the door quietly and heard nothing coming from the kitchen. No activity at this time of night. It was almost too easy.With all his slyness he opened the door and moved into the shadows. There was no one around at all. Most of the help had gone home for the evening, except for a few guards wandering around the ground level. From shadow to shadow and darkness to darkness he moved closer to the staircase. He waited breathlessly in a shadow as a guard approached. The guard passed right by him without notice and continued his patrol. Lopez sighed silently and climbed the stairs closer to his mark. The carpeted stairs stifled his already quiet steps making his flight up the stairs undetectable. At the top of the stairs he darted into another shadow as a noise startled him for a moment. It was the old man shuffling towards his bedroom. He looked frail and on his last days, but had an underlying confidence to his step. The old man stopped for a second and seemed to look directly into Lopez's eyes. Lopez froze, becoming a part of the darkness he had engulfed himself in. The old man's eyes were sharp and clear and seemed to penetrate the darkness, regardless of his clothing and concealment. Lopez was scared. For the first time in a long time, he was scared. If the old man noticed him he might have to kill him right there and shoot his way out in which case he would have to consider the hit a failure. The old man grunted to himself and continued to the bedroom. He opened the door and began humming a tune. Lopez remembered the tune. It was the same jingle his mark two weeks previous had been humming to himself before Lopez extinguished his voice. Some catchy little commercial jingle advertising breakfast cereal or something. Lopez smiled. He too would die with that useless jingle in his head; he thought and waited for the right moment to advance. A clock chimed four in a distant room but the light was still on in the old mans room. He couldn't wait any longer. The next shift of guards would be coming before the next chime at five. His instructions were to make it as bloody a death as he could. Some sort of message he guessed to whoever would be interested. Lopez took out a long knife from a sheath beneath his shirt. The blade was powder coated with a black matte finish and edged with deep serrations on one side that swept back toward his hand and a razor sharp filed graced the other. He moved toward the bedroom door and waited outside, listening for any movement. He could hear the old man still humming the jingle. He was still awake, no matter, now was the time.Lopez peeked around the door and saw the old man sitting at a desk ten feet away writing something in a notebook. The room was dark, but Lopez could tell it was furnished with the finest antiques money could buy. The floor was bare wood which would probably creak under his weight; he would have to move swiftly. As quickly and quietly as could he advanced toward the old man, knife in hand. A floor board creaked beneath his foot as he was about to wrap his hand around the old mans mouth to silence his screams of pain and ram the knife into his back and through his heart, but he was gone.Lopez spun around to see where the old man was. He turned in a full circle and there the old man was standing in front of him smiling. "Nice try, sonny. Care to try again?" he asked arrogantly.Lopez was in shock for a moment. How could the old man move so quickly? Without thinking he sent the knife toward the old mans heart like a cobra striking its prey. The knife hit air and threw Lopez off balance. He felt what he thought was a sledge hammer on his left shoulder that sent him flying across the room and into a table that was so heavy it barely budged. Lopez shook the cobwebs out of his head and looked around the room for the sentry that had hit him from behind, but only the old man stood there, smiling. Nothing was registering correctly in Lopez's mind. Nothing fit. Everything was skewed and far from the norm."Get up," the old man said. "Give it another try. I'm sure someone paid you good money to kill me. Let's not disappoint them with such a skimpy effort on your part," he said not looking so feeble any more. Lopez knew time was now working against him, but if he didn't take out his mark now he would not only lose the payday, but his life. An incentive assassins don't talk about much. Without a flinch Lopez sent the knife flying toward the old mans chest. Let's see him dodge that, he thought to himself, but the knife sailed past the old man and into the wall behind him as though he were never there. Lopez looked at the knife sticking in the wall and before he could react the old man had him by the throat. He effortlessly raised Lopez into the air with an arm that looked as though it could barely raise itself let alone Lopez's one hundred sixty pounds. Lopez felt himself losing consciousness from the choke hold. Is this the way he would die? In the grip of an old frail man? Lopez tried one last desperate attack. He reached into his pocket and took out a small switchblade he kept for cutting rope and sliced the back of the old mans hand with it. The blade cut deep and Lopez could feel it hitting the bone. He would be free from his grip and continue to cut the old man to shreds. The grip never loosened though and the cut he had made disappeared before his eyes, healing itself in a manner of seconds. Now he knew he was delirious from a lack of blood to the brain. Wounds don't just heal themselves like that, he thought and lost consciousness. When he awoke a few minutes later he found himself bound in a chair with strong rope. The old man stood over him admiring Lopez's switchblade. He lowered the blade to Lopez's eye. "You got me with that one, eh?" he said and laughed deeply. "I must admit you're the best one yet. No one else has ever gotten that close to me before," he said genuinely impressed. "Although I did see you in the hall standing in the shadows. Very sloppy, very sloppy indeed," he said shaking his head. "But never the less, you did manage to touch me and for that I might just let you live," he said stepping back from Lopez to look at his reaction. Lopez gave none. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with," Lopez said through clenched teeth. "I can't tell you anything. I don't know who wanted you killed. All I know is how much they were willing to pay and that they always pay," Lopez said holding his head up defiantly."I know who hired you. . . Lopez," he said again waiting for his reaction to hearing his name. Lopez lost a bit of his defiance and looked at the old man with an unasked question in his eyes."You want to know who, don't you? For the first time in your career, you want to know."Lopez stared into the old mans eyes and said, "Yes. I want to know, but I also want to know how you were able to avoid my attack. Since I am obviously going to die here tonight, at least tell me that."The old man laughed and said, "Well, the answer to both is one in the same." Lopez strained to understand, but failed to grasp what was being said. "I hired you, Lopez. I hired you to kill me, or should I say try to kill me. People have been trying to kill me for centuries and fail miserably each and every time. I enjoy good sport and a challenge as you do, I'm sure. What greater challenge could I have than to elude a paid professional assassin. You see, I am a vampire, Lopez. One of the undead. That is why I move so quickly. That is why my wounds heal instantly. That is why you could not kill me, I am a superior being that has been alive for thousands of years. And now you have become just another meal for me to sup upon. Oh well, ces't la vie," the old man said and severed Lopez's jugular with the switchblade and dined on assassin's blood. THE END
