The house looked stately with statues and a small fountain in the garden. The driveway was made with small yellow stones. Inside was how you would expect a stately home to be like. With brown intricately patterned wall paper with a green border. The grand velvet red curtains cast a shadow over the entire room even when they were open. The antique furniture looked grand but out of place in such a small room, this also created a great absence of light in the room. The eyes on the paintings seemed to follow him around.
The victim’s large black car approached; it slowly drove down the road, opening the electrically controlled gates with a remote control, and then sweeping onto the gravel drive making a crunching sound as it passed over it, making two large indentations in the gravel he was smoking a large cigar causing a potent tobacco odour to drift through the air. The assassin cocked back the firing mechanism on his gun, the cold metal pressed against him as he placed his finger on the trigger. He knew when he wanted to shoot the victim; when he paused to open his front door.
The victim opened his door stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, and walked to the rear door to get his briefcase, he slowly opened the door then took his briefcase; gradually shutting the door then he walked to his front door. When he reached the door he fumbled in his pockets for his keys. Click went the safety catch; then with a muffled sound blood sprayed from the victims head like a scarlet mist coating his porch in blood. He fell into the door with a large thud then slowly slid down the wall until he lay to rest slumped like a discarded doll. That bullet ripped his live away from him in an instant.
The assassin started to pack away his rifle firstly removing the bipod used to support it, then the scope, then the magazine, then the silencer each done with great intricacy and skill, the way he did it seemed almost lovingly. Packing it all into its case, then finally the rifle. The assassin jumped down from the warehouse roof with his case firmly in his hands. He ran the short distance to his car placed the case in his car, got in his car and casually drove away as if nothing had happened. His casualness was inhuman. He had just stolen someone’s life from them in cold blood. He showed no remorse.
