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The Assassin

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The Assassin One moonless night at a village park you could sense something was going to happen. In the background fireworks lit the night sky. Several cars arrived in front of the village hall. In the brisk chilly wind swings jingled in the corner of the park. More and more cars pulled up and crowds gathered. Under the shelter of an aged oak tree the few leaves protected a tall stocky built man. The suspicious man was wearing a long thick black fury coat. What appeared to be a horse grassing in the glair of the fireworks. A well-dressed woman threw a horse saddle over a rusty mangled gate. She followed, as she did as she called out "Harrold!" The woman who was wearing a sheepskin jacket and leather boots ran towards the horse that was near the suspicious man. ...read more.


He rolled down his window and punched in a four-digit code. Like magic the gates opened to the countryside manor. The car sped away to the front of the mansion. Once inside, a sharply dressed man approached him. As he spoke Blane recognize the voice. "The man who wanted to hire an assassin pacifically asked for you." "When is it?" Blane asked. "Friday." He replied. Confirming the request, Blane said. "You've got a deal, Fax me details." Friday afternoon "Room 218 sir." The receptionist said. "Thanks." Blane replied. Blane entered the pokey room shutting the door behind him, then swiped open the curtains. The view was of a small park with a walkway through it and a pancake stall alongside. He slammed his bag down on the wooden floor. He poked his head around the corner; then nodded his head in satisfaction. ...read more.


"Get it done!" It was minutes away. You could smell the tension in the smoke filled room. His long nail finger lay on the trigger as the target approached the park. Vanloads of police arrived in the side streets. He fled the room and dashed up the staircase in an instant. He burst through the fire door and onto the roof. His long coat blew in the wind. The metal ladder which lead to the fire escape was heaved off. He rested it on the two buildings to cross the side street. "Mr Yanson please." Blane said in a negative tone to the receptionist She answered "Room 218 sir." Out side the room he drew his pistil. He fearlessly booted open the door to 218. He was meet by three bodyguards. Who were in suits and armed. Out stepped The man with the deep voice AKA Mr Yanson. It's time you went from my origination. You could blow our cover. He walked through the wall of guards and out the room shutting it behind him. ...read more.

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