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The Assassin. He calmly loaded the barrel of the rifle he held in his hands. Obviously, he had done this many times before. His lack of nerves was testament to the years of practice he had under his belt.

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Introduction

The Assassin He lay silently amongst the rustling leaves, waiting as the terracotta house stood still before him. The heavy rain pounded against his cheap, torn up raincoat and he begrudgingly wiped the droplets from the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses. His crooked nose protruded off a sagging, scarred face. His lazy eye twitched at the sound of a car passing and the passengers unknowingly glanced in his direction. Raindrops trickled in and out of his frown lines and he could hear the tick tock of his knock-off Rolex as the sound echoed through his mind. He calmly loaded the barrel of the rifle he held in his hands. Obviously, he had done this many times before. His lack of nerves was testament to the years of practice he had under his belt. He noticed the flaking paint gathering below the broken windows, along with shards of dusty glass. ...read more.

Middle

It was obviously out of place. The slow revolutions of the wheels calmed him as the corners of his chapped lips started to raise in what could only be described as a cold-hearted grin. The car stopped and he noticed the raindrops bouncing gracefully off the windscreen as the wipers ceased to clear them. The passenger within the car popped the trunk and the sleek handle on the driver's side door lifted as a stiletto-clad leg touched down into the muddy puddle beside the vehicle. He shuffled in his spot and inhaled the damp, musky air. His very first view of the woman was her long, silky shock of copper red hair. He was pleasantly surprised by how elegantly she slipped out of the car and the grace with which she opened her umbrella. She walked around to the back of the car, the sound of her heels muffled by the soggy ground, and stopped at the open boot. ...read more.

Conclusion

Done her a favour even. Her face was set with an expression of terror and her empty eyes looked up at him. This was pure satisfaction for him. He pulled himself away from his handiwork and started to clean up. He picked up the cartridge case that had fell to the ground with a clink. It still smelt of sweet gunpowder. Then he swiftly packed the smoking rifle into its leather-bound case and slung it over his shoulder. He stood effortlessly after being still for so long and ruffled the leaves on which he rested with his shoes. After calmly going through a mental list of things he had to check he started towards his car. It was parked conveniently so he could make a quick getaway. He opened the door and placed his rifle on the passenger side seat. Then he sat down with one quick movement, put the key in the ignition and revelled at the beautiful sound of the engine coming to life. He'd done the job he came to do. ?? ?? ?? ?? Charlotte Donovan Centre Number: 68303 Candidate Number: 4334 ...read more.

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