He breaks from the crouched position he was in, and makes his way to the old rundown house that looms prominently in the reddish black sky. A flash of lightning briefly illuminates the house. It is large, with hefty walls and a great wooden door for an entrance. Some windows are broken, but the structure is fine. The car has rolled to just a few meters from the old bridge. The driver’s hands inside the car are still firmly attached to the steering wheel like an icicle but with a bullet hole in her skull. He pushes the car over the bridge quickly to get rid of the evidence, as it would risk the surprise of his ambush. He calmly carries on walking at a steady, unrelenting pace towards the house, as if he has done nothing out of the ordinary. All that separates his path to the house, now, is an old fence that is encrusted in rust and soaring weeds. Climbing the tall fence would not have been a problem for him, but at the summit it’s covered in barbed wire. He will have to wait for another way in.
He hears a car engine in the distance and crouches down next to a bush to camouflage into it. He spots the car he has been waiting for. It is approaching the house fast. He prepares himself. The car unexpectedly slows down and as it approaches the fence gate opens with a heavy shrieking whine. The car is silver, with a large dent in the side and with all the windows blacked out. He will soon have too follow the car after it passes through the gate, but not to soon as he would be seen by the driver. The car slowly passes through the gate and the assassin follows it through without making a sound. The car stalls just beside the house, but the driver does not re-start it and gets out to enter his home. A cold breeze blows, sending leaves spinning noisily across the stony ground surrounding the car. He catches his first glimpse of the victim as a pair of feet tap on the floor in a rhythm to the wooden front door.
The coast is clear. Now is the time to enter the house. The assassin estimates that the chimney is large enough for him to clamber down. He climbs up the side of the house using the gutter as foot leverage. No sooner has he climbed up onto the roof than he descends the chimney and enters the house. It is pitch black. He gently strikes a match and holds it out in front of him. He lowers himself gently down to the carpet covered floor and slowly moves around looking at all the surroundings.
Unlike the outside, the inside of the house is in a very good condition. It is modern and looks lavishly decorated. He notices on the wall a selection of guns and knives. The assassin’s heartbeat has rose radically, in the silence its like a thunderous drum beat. To his great surprise, there is not a camera or security system in sight. He’s starting to wonder what he is dealing with. However, the thing that shocks him the most is that the room is filled with beautiful hand paintings that appear to be of him.
Hearing footsteps his thoughts are cut short. He swiftly turns towards the sound. Suddenly, bursting through the double doors arrives the man he had been following, holding a rifle with both arms. The assassin drops his cigarette and freezes in shock. The two are of exactly the same appearance. They look each other straight in the eye. The man with the rifle winks and fires, once, killing the assassin instantly.
