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The Assassin.

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The Assassin Orange headlights flashed past his face, fading like forgotten dreams. The night held stillness in its arms, which was thick enough to walk on. A slow creeping chill stalked through the air, threatening the onset of icy rain. When he looked up, the dark mysterious clouds told him that they promised to cry more tears tonight. A few more cars flew by. Driving, in the dark country tracks, became dangerous when the rain to falls. He knew some cars would skid on the curve over the wet ground. Drawing in a deep breath of the pine-perfumed breeze, he rolled his shoulders and crouched down beside his riffle. His gaze set on the house's driveway. Only small pines were left, many of them had twisted and stunted shapes. The pines doted the trimmed garden, isolated from each other, as if worlds apart in their own loneliness. ...read more.


The car looked like it had just been driven out of a showroom, which it probably had. The bumper was slightly dented, but even it looked like a dimpled chin instead of an imperfection. The tyres had delicately grinded the gravel with their black rubber, soaked in rainwater as freshly bathed bodies. It seemed as if the car carried its own little world behind the whit doors, breathing to the gentle purr of its dying engine and basking in the fading interior light; completely oblivious to the squalls raging outside. There was a faint 'click' and the driver door opened to reveal a slender shapely calf. Gracefully out of the Porsche in her elegant blue dress suit, arrived the young women of moment he had been waiting for, the victim herself. She giggled softly as she stepped into the rain, and Twirled around. ...read more.


Blood sprayed the Porsche and washed down the surface as gruesome red tears trembling upon pale cheeks. For the faintest of moments, she looked down at the crimson circle on her chest, as if thinking; 'that doesn't belong there.' If she could breathe she would scream, or perhaps sing. The assassin holstered his gun and swiftly buttoned up his long leather coat. With one last look confirming no signs of his presence remain, he made his way down the muddy slope, feet adept not to lose there footing. His unmarked gun metal grey Jeep awaits him in a nearby clearing. Bringing the engine to life he makes a U-turn into the country road. The windshield works systematically in a hypnotic rhythm. He turned the heater up a notch and ran a vain hand through his wet wealth of hair. Rustling it he made water sprinkle over the Jeeps leather interior and suddenly grinned. His tuneful whistling filled the car. He took the first exit into the city "Singing in the rain...." ...read more.

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