The crosshairs of a highly velocity rifle located the lower cranium of its victims: A smooth metallic click momentarily disturbed the tranquility of the night followed by a high pitched scream as the bullet bored through the density of the air. The victim’s lifeless corpse fell heavily to the ground with a reverberating thud. A curling malicious smile spread across the face of the assassin as he disassembled the gun carefully collecting the pieces and placing them back into the deep foam of the attaché case. He clambered uneasily to his feet carelessly stepping on the edge of his coat. The assassin performed the processes after each murder; collect equipment, search for evidence, leave location with minimal suspicion. He fumbled for his car keys in his pocket “Where were they?” Cold Sweat poured down his rough complexion as his fingers caressed a smooth slender object, reminiscent images entered his mind of the figure he had just shot “Why was he empathising with his victim, Why did he sense guilt”. The car coughed into life and rolled across the baron landscape.
The assassin didn’t feel relieved to escape as he usually did after each assignment. “How was this different?” He did not discover until the following morning.
The fire crackled like tongues of angry snakes comforting his fatigued and aching limbs as he lay back in his soft mahogany chair. The maid strolled in with his typical English Breakfast; wisps of steam ascended from the silver platter. Renaissance paintings adorned the magenta walls, bleached sheepskin rugs floated across the silky sheen of the polished wooden floor. Tranquility rained. The maid handed the selection of tabloids, with an apprehensive look adhered to her face. It was not long before his face projected the same image. A cool stark photograph of a well-groomed businessman littered every page of every paper, with a poignant title above it “Who would want to murder innocent business-man?” He let out an internal gasp as his mistake hit him like a bullet through the head. Shuddering with fear and anger he arose from his chair and stumbled into the narrow hallway, his destination unclear, he could not begin to arrange the myriad of thoughts meandering through his brain like a vast river of un-structured thought processes.
The growl of a car engine screamed down the street; confused shouts, heavy footsteps reverberated around the building. Only one thought barricaded his mind ‘Escape!’ They were here! Continuing to stagger down the corridor towards a white light which was emitted from a large doorway. A figure emerged, the light no longer existent just darkness. Terror built up in the in the assassin’s narrow eyes, perspiration poured down his face. The figure clad in black, smiled with a Machiavellian glint in his pale eyes, his smooth tanned skin rippled with delight. The assassin fell to his knees in desperation; ‘Escape’ was no longer possible only ‘Survival’. The pale eyes of the blackened figure depicted every detail of the assassin’s appearance, deciphered his thought processes and seemed to formulate an internal report on his adversary. All hope had been helplessly crushed, as the assassin now became the victim, his fate was in the hands of this anonymous male. The cool metallic shimmer of light ran down the hollow chamber of the sleek object, which was carefully perched directly in front of the assassin’s cranium. His eyelids clung together in desperation, fear spiraled down his spine, and his body froze in terror…. Bang…. Blood meandered down the contours of his face; the lifeless corpse hit the Persian rug, minute droplets of warm blood splattered across the Champagne walls as the figure, contorted with pain. Light once again encapsulated the room, silence fell upon the room, as the victim lay dead. So peaceful yet morbid.
How he had survived couldn’t be contemplated. ‘Who had killed the malicious figure clad in black?’ ‘Why?’ The assassin had never felt so desperate and helpless in his life, but it was finally over.
