The Assassin.

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Hussain Khan 10BA                English

The Assassin

It is a midwinters day in Liverpool.  An unspecified person is sitting on the top of a block of flats.  He is endeavoring to manage the heavy rain as far as possible, while kneeling on the ground facing a small lonely house.  Grey murky clouds have taken over the azure sky.  You can see and hear thunder and lightning.  It is giving off a boisterous sound.  The unspecified person is dressed in a long black coat, made out of real leather.  He is also wearing considerably huge crocodile boots.  His stylish Calvin Klein spectacles cover his wide eyes.  The front of his hair never comes in contact with his forehead.  It is frozen in the position of a front of a cap.

He remains calm and is always alerted by a car passing by now and again.  He has no emotions, there are no feelings inside of his body.  This man is an assassin.  He gets paid to do someone else’s dirty work.  He has no identity but he has a high status in the triads.  

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The assassin lifts his silent machine gun and once again sets his eyes down onto the front of the house.  The house of the victim is ancient.  It has been standing in the same place for years.  The paintwork of the doors and windows are wasting away.  The tiles on the roof are out of place.  It wouldn’t be surprising if there were holes in the ceiling and the place was dripping.  The rain is beginning to pour even heavier.  The wind is howling.  He remains as cool as a sly fox and wipes his shades every now and ...

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