He heard a rumble in the distance; it was coming closer by the second, as a car emerged from the night.
He was surprised by a car’s unusual presence on the decrepit road, what did this mean, was this to be his target?
The car passed unnoticed by the cardboard city dwellers, it travelled down the road disappearing into the night, the cars lights looked like the savage eyes of a trained killer dog.
Still he waited; again he sighted his rifle, waiting for a sign to make his move.
Out of the darkness the rain began to fall like meteors crashing down on the dented rusted roof, as the storm closed in. Flashes of lightening lit up the dark clouds as the thunder became like the drums of Hell.
The Assassin watched like a hawk; there was no sign of his target; the house was engulfed by the darkness, lit only by intermittent flashes of lightening.
The engine noise returned of the car with its eyes shut slowly passed once more, mud from the wasteland covering the licence plates. The car was old and coming to its end the engine grumbled as it came to a stop outside the house.
The parked car’s engine switched off, the rain poured down the cracked windscreen as the windows slowly began to cloud up. The Assassin waited, was it time?
The driver side door opened, he glared through the scope, finger on the trigger as the target emerged from the vehicle.
The target was a young dark-haired woman, elegant yet the scars that painted her face gave a much worse picture.
The rain poured down, drenching the targets every move as she walked towards the front door of the house. The Assassin held his nerve, not moving a muscle, not making a sound as he followed her every step with the crosshair of his weapon.
The temperature dropped to a cold freeze as the Assassins every breath was visible like a warm chimney in winter.
He dragged his hand towards the laser sight switch. He flicked the switch on, the light shone on the back of her mind. She came closer by the second to meeting Death that was coming for her out Dark, wet night. She turned and faced the Assassin as the beam flashed before her, as she looked him in the eye.
Silence. Silence, as the final blow was struck with the force of eternity.
The window looked like a spiders web growing outward as the bullet passed through her and shattered the glass.
She dropped, like a dead weight she hit the floor with the sound of a muffled thump.
The Assassin felt nothing for his victim, he never did and all that mattered to him was the clean kill.
He gathered his sights, packed his rifle and brushed away the evidence of his presence as he picked the shell of the fired bullet still hot; he placed it in the box with the other spent cases. How many were in the box, he stopped counting a long time ago but he still kept his mementoes.
He swung his bag over his shoulder, he looked back to see the cobweb covered machinery, no trace of his presence was left disappearing into the night to wait foe his next victim.
By Ben Brannigan
10Sp
